


Body Glitter (Don't Delete the Kisses)

by OonionChiver



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Bisexual Cullen, But also all the plot, Complicated Relationships, Consent Is The New Sexy, Creative License, Cullen Is Famous, Disaster Dorian, Dorian is oblivious, Epic Friendship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Fenris the Bodyguard, Fluff, Humor, Kidnapping, Leliana the Manager, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Beta We Die Like Jack Dawson, Notting Hill meets The Bodyguard but MEGA QUEER, Overcoming Shitty Exes, Power Bottom Dorian, Praise Kink, Roommates, Service Top Cullen, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, So very British, Topdrop, Wish Fulfillment, a bit of everything, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 567,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25208857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OonionChiver/pseuds/OonionChiver
Summary: 'What was it you said you did again?’Cullen returned with tea. ‘Sorry?’Dorian took it, cheeks reddening to have to repeat himself. ‘What was it, specifically, you said you did again?’‘Um,’ Cullen said, looking a little lost. ‘I’m a… musician?’OrDorian lives in London, in a flat that requires a roommate. Enter Cullen. Cullen is gorgeous, he's kind and he cooks. He apparently dabbles in music too. Dorian despises music after what his rock star ex did to him, but that's OK, Cullen just messes around with his guitar now and then, right?Right?
Relationships: Definitely Invented That One, Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford, I Invented That Ship, Leliana/Fenris, Leliana/Fenris/Alistair, Main Pairing is Cullrian
Comments: 1150
Kudos: 383





	1. The Drink You Spilled All Over Me (Lover's Spit Left On Repeat)

**Author's Note:**

> Gifted to Justsomelurker, who came up with this idea in a crazy back and forth about body glitter, secret fame and selfies.
> 
> A few notes as this becomes slowly longer and more complex, like, can I seriously not just write a short, cute fluff fic? Nope, apparently not. 
> 
> * I don't do explicit warnings at the start of chapters to prevent spoilers so please be warned, this story (eventually) has intense themes, misunderstandings, emotional struggles and LOT of dealing with horrible people in the past/present. There will be triggering elements as we go on, mostly pertaining to past domestic abuse and that contains a whole range of unpleasantness. It's E for a reason so in the nicest way possible, don't like, don't read.  
> * I rarely tag for sex stuff but like Risk Addiction, this has all the sex and it's pretty no holds barred so again, if you're after fade to black, this might not be for you.  
> * This will end up over 500k but I do update really frequently, usually once a week, so if you're new, welcome! The chapters become steadily longer, so strap in, people!  
> * If you read my other fic, Risk Addiction, then you know what kind of things to expect but I must say, this is the lightest, most happy thing I've ever written and the most personal. No matter how things seem, there will be the glowiest, most cathartic happy ending ever and I promise, it'll all be more than OK. 
> 
> So, welcome to Body Glitter. I hope you enjoy!  
> 💜💜💜
> 
> P.S - If you love this pairing like I do, come check out my Dragon age gemstone bracelets!
> 
> https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SwishAndFlique

[](https://ibb.co/1KR5B5K) [Art by Apudpir8](https://apudpir8.tumblr.com)

‘So I told him, I said, _“Mate_ , you can take your fucking bottle opener _and_ your rules and shove ‘em up your arse.” That’s what I told him, true story, no matter what certain _others_ might say, that is the story of how I got fired. Fuckin’ dick squirrel, I swear.’ Sera sniffed and knocked back another shot, shuddering before giving Dorian her full attention, leaning closer to yell slightly over the pulsing, pounding music. ‘Oh yeah, did you find a roommate in the end? I was gonna say, if you didn’t, I know this guy. Very cool, best hat you’ve ever clapped eyes on and kind of a psychic. Or an artist. Definitely writes poetry, I dunno. Like. Not _good_ poetry, the shit kind - y’know, the ones that don’t get famous till after he’s been dead like seventeen years. So, did you find someone or shall I give you his number?’

Dorian blinked hard, shaking himself slightly.

The nightclub around them pulsed and thudded, the rhythm echoing in his rib cage. The songs caused everyone in the club, minus a few, to throw themselves around on the floor in undignified fashion.

He reached for his drink on the sopping wet table, an upended bottle of beer causing the flood and one of Sera’s discarded socks sat drenched and sad. If he ignored the sock, he could pretend they were in a classy place, in the VIP sections he was used to swanning through while growing up.

‘Oh, that’s so _very_ kind,’ he told her, taking a delicate swig of his own lukewarm beer, drunk enough not to care about the foul taste. ‘But I _did_ actually find someone.’

Sera tried to lean on her elbow, slipping off her knee which resulted in her half punching herself in the face. She shook it off admirably well, her short messy blonde cut flying wildly. ‘Oh yeah? Guy? Gal? Enby? Oooh, _piercings?_ What we got?’

Dorian rolled his eyes and cracked a grin. ‘Calm yourself. Male, zero piercings from what I saw and probably very straight.’

‘Dorian,’ Sera sighed, half yawning. ‘You think everyone is straight. How many times I gotta tell you - everyone is straight until you bend ‘em over. Is he hot? You gonna _bend_ him?’

She dissolved into a fit of giggles and Dorian wished he was that drunk.

He was saved from answering when his other best friend plonked herself into his lap without warning, almost sending them both careening off the side of the booth seat. Dorian caught her and righted them just in time.

Ellana Lavellan - _Lana_ as she’d declared herself the very moment she was out from under her parents - wrapped herself around him and began to depict her tales of woe.

‘There was a guy,’ she announced in a trembling kind of _yell_ , only able to tell the story per shortened breath. ‘Who tried to buy… me a drink but then… when I told him my name… he said it was a fake name… and couldn’t I— _hic_ —come up with a better… fake name than Ellana Lavellan!’

Dorian patted her on the back. ‘There, there, love.’

‘He said!’ she wailed into his neck, Irish accent always much more prominent when this drunk. ‘That my last name was just— _hic!_ — an anagram of my first name! Why are men so… so _mean_?’

‘We are a cruel species, to be assured.’

‘Not you, though,’ she sighed, burrowing deeper, no doubt smearing all her makeup over his skin, glitter and mascara and bright red lipstick, no matter how he advised against it because it really _did_ suit her ill, she was too bloody pale. ‘You’re one of the girls. You’re my _girlfriend_.’

‘While that’s a _lovely_ sentiment, time to go, I think.’

‘No!’ she cried, clinging harder. ‘I didn’t even fuck anyone yet! The guy who called me an anna… an angiogram… who— _hic_!— _insulted_ me, he was still really hot,’ she said, even as he stood them both up, her tiny frame wrapped around him like a determinedly tangled scarf. _‘Dor_ , come and suss him out for me. You can always tell— _hic!—_ good from bad. Well, usually.’

Dorian tried to set her down but she was clinging extra hard then, indicative of what a nightmare she would be to get into a cab, let alone out of the club. He exhaled roughly and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache already setting in, mostly due to the pounding music that always set him on edge.

‘Let’s go, then,’ he relented and she squealed, untangling from him suspiciously fast, leading him out onto the dance floor by the hand, Sera watching owlishly from the booth.

‘Ah, I _love_ this song!’ she screamed, looking back at him, something worried in her expression as soon as she’d said it. Dorian winced but he didn’t blame her. It was easy to forget and she _was_ impossibly drunk.

He could tell she wanted to dance, that she wanted to dance with him, but Dorian didn’t dance anymore and if there was one thing in life he fucking despised, it was music.

The song, whatever it was - something _alternative_ remixed into a far more generic blend by the sounds of it - was pounding into his ribcage, setting him almost vibrating with the speakers so nearby.

It was hard to breathe, but that was easily remedied. He just needed to be _drunker_.

‘Come on, you,’ he said, dragging her towards the bar. ‘Flash your tits and get us some free shots.’

_*_

Two hours later, after one bout of vomit induced girl-sobbing over some nameless tragedy, a near bust up with an eminently patient bouncer, Ellana and Sera were shoved mercilessly into an Uber that Dorian was sure ended up costing more than his shopping bill for that week, but that didn’t matter because he was _home_ and at last, things were _quiet_ again. He could hear himself think again.

Dorian’s loft was large and spacious and it was _his_. Inherited directly from his mother, though strongly contested by his supposed _half siblings,_ two of the most loathsome people he’d ever met who were the direct result of his late father’s inability to be satisfied with just _one_ family.

He’d forfeited the money, pretty much all of it, but had kept the loft. That was the compromise. Though it stung to have the Pavus estate be sold off and splintered, their family name lost to two money hungry ingrates, Dorian was… oddly freed by it. Let them have their money, it had never brought him happiness.

The loft was different. That made him happy, it was his space, his place in the world where he belonged.

And currently, it wasn’t _empty_ , either.

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, blinking widely and forcefully, wondering if he was actually drunker than he’d thought but no, it was him. Cullen Rutherford, best choice of a bad bunch of applicants to offer Dorian a meagre income that he might actually have a chance of _living_ on while following his dream of… well, whatever he dreamed up next week. London wasn’t _cheap_ , all right? He shook himself hard.

It was a little dazing, truth be told, to come home to his luxurious, albeit iKEA style furnished loft and find a painfully gorgeous blonde man sat on his sofa, watching TV and eating ice cream.

‘Hi,’ Cullen greeted, making no move to turn the TV off or get up which… yes, that really sold it for Dorian. He’d made the right decision. Cullen had seemed a bit nervous in the interview, or what Dorian could recall of it that afternoon, but he’d seemed _genuine_ too.

 _‘Cullen Rutherford, uh. I’m very clean and tidy, but I’m happy with creative chaos if that’s your… if you like that, though looking at the place, I can see that’s not really a theme. I’m twenty eight, I’ve lived in London for nine years. Spent the last few years alone before and uh. Yeah, just wanted a roommate. I don’t do well alone. Ah, that’s not… what I mean is, I work better, I_ write _better when there_ _’s noise. Other noise. Not like a metronome. People noise, noise that I know isn’t someone breaking in or… Fucking hell. OK. Do-over. I’m Cullen Rutherford and I’m a total moron, but I won’t mess with your fancy towels and I’ll pay the rent on time. Plus, I’m good at cooking.’_

Dorian had laughed and so had Cullen and really, Dorian knew on the spot he was at least going to give the man a _trial_ mostly because he just seemed so _nice_ and yeah - Dorian should be well versed in men who _seem_ nice but the other five had _seemed_ like total knobs, so blondie had swung it. Three month tenancy to start and then… well, who knew? He’d showed him around, gone over things and then given him the spare set of keys, but honestly, he hadn’t expected him to be moved _in_ after less than twelve hours.

Dorian had yet to reply to Cullen’s perfectly friendly, perfectly _normal_ greeting.

‘Yes, hi,’ he said cleverly. ‘Hmm. Hello. Many… greetings, was I gone longer than I thought… or? No. Hi.’

Cullen was strangely relaxed. Dorian felt immediately suspicious of anyone who was that relaxed, especially around him. He had a tendency to put people on their guard, so he’d been told. ‘Cup of tea?’

Dorian threw his keys in the bowl on the side and kicked his boots off. They were nice boots and they deserved better but his fucking feet _hurt._ It was no joke being Lana’s best friend and wearing heeled boots.

‘Uh, yes please. If you’re…’ he waved his hand towards the open plan kitchen, all spacious and gleaming and nearly lost his balance entirely. He styled it out by leaning (falling) on the nearest wall, coats softening the impact. A new coat in particular, black leather and _ooh_ , it smelled wonderful.

Cullen’s coat, he realised. Cullen’s coat was hanging in his loft… because…

Ah. Roommate. _Not_ a hook-up. Silly, silly Dorian.

‘If you’re making one for yourself, that is,’ Dorian added in his best, most _Dorian_ voice because yes, he just face planted into Cullen’s coat, but there was no need to forget the basics. ‘Three sugars, two tea bags, lots of milk please!’

One hand on the wall for most of the journey, Dorian made his way into the middle part of his beautiful loft, two walls of glass gifting the most stunning view of the city, the lights never failing to make Dorian feel instantly more _safe_. Cullen was already in the kitchen, kettle on, clinking china of mugs and spoons and other things that made Dorian smile because this was _nice_ , someone was making him _tea!_

He decided to be sociable and followed Cullen into the kitchen, soft orange lights from above casting the blond in a pretty, flattering way as he hummed under his breath, something vaguely familiar.

‘That’s nice,’ Dorian said. ‘The uh. Yes. How do you tea your take? No, that’s… take your tea?’

Cullen glanced up, a smile playing about his eyes. ‘Builder’s brew,’ he answered, pouring the hot water over the teabags, already _inside_ the mugs with milk.

Dorian peered closer. ‘That’s not how you make tea.’

Cullen laughed and Dorian’s lower stomach did funny things. ‘No, see. Everyone _else_ is doing it wrong. You put the milk in first.’ He laughed and gently whacked Dorian with a dishcloth when the other man glared sceptically. ‘You _do!_ Milk first, then sugar, if you take it, which I don’t, tea bag and _then_ ,’ he said, inviting Dorian to watch by gently crooking his middle two fingers. ‘You pour the hot water directly _onto_ the tea bag. See? It diffuses the leaves, let’s you monitor the strength without having to guess and gives you the perfect colour each time.’

Dorian could see… a steamy blur, a swill of brown and cream coloured blobs in his favourite cup. He deferred to Cullen’s judgement and nodded wisely.

‘I see,’ he flat out lied.

Cullen snorted. ‘Good night out?’ Dorian sighed reaching for his tea, but Cullen held onto it. ‘Maybe I’ll carry it for you,’ he suggested kindly and Dorian nodded again, sauntering (wobbling) back into the TV area, complete with enormous squishy sofas and ottomans.

He collapsed gracefully into the corner of the L shape sofa, shoving his feet up onto the plush grey ottoman. When he let his head fall back, the room spinning slightly, Cullen asked, ‘Are you OK?’

‘I,’ Dorian declared. ‘Am wonderful.’ He opened his eyes and took the tea. ‘Thank you,’ he said, cautiously sipping the too-hot drink, tasting the bliss of heated infused tea leaves with luscious _sugar._ Despite the overwhelmingly _illegal_ method of tea making Cullen had employed, it was a damned good cup of tea. ‘And yes, OK night out. Well. No, not really. Dramas, y’know.’

Cullen nodded. ‘I do.’

Dorian squinted. ‘Do you, though?’

Cullen leaned back, politely lowering the volume of the TV when an annoying advert came on. ‘I do, actually. I have friends too. They drink. There’s dramas. I get it.’

‘Mmm,’ Dorian said, wishing he could remember more of what Cullen had said in the interview. There was something _pressing_ , something he was going to ask later. It wasn’t important exactly, but it needed to be asked.

Ah, that was it.

‘On your application,’ Dorian said, making sure to sound out the words very carefully. ‘Under employment, you put _artist_.’

Cullen’s brow lifted slightly. ‘It’s… the term I prefer.’

‘What does that mean, exactly?’ Dorian asked, sipping more _glorious_ tea. ‘Because I don’t mind mess or paints, _at all_ , but if I could just understand how much white spirit I’ll be needing…’ he trailed off, content to let Cullen fill him in while feeling gradually returned to his highly upset feet.

Cullen seemed confused for a moment. ‘Uh, minimal mess,’ he said, almost like he was humouring Dorian. ‘I’m pretty much atrocious at drawing. Can’t even sign my own name in a fancy way, let alone paint. Do you draw then? Or paint?’ He drank his tea, gaze on Dorian, like he was interested.

But Dorian was confused. ‘I don’t think I’m a painter.’

‘Ah, just drawing then?’

‘Hang on. I don’t. No, no. _You_ _’re_ the painter. You said artist.’

Cullen’s polite interest turned instantly blank, a clean canvas of surprise. ‘Yes,’ he said, very slowly, eyes slightly wide. ‘But I meant… music.’

‘Oh, right,’ Dorian said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. ‘I hate music. No offence. I had a thing with a guy in a band. He wrote songs about me. It was… well. I hate music now and forever, sorry about that.’

Cullen nodded carefully. ‘Oh, I… I see.’

‘It’s nothing personal against you. I’m sure you make lovely…’ Dorian gestured with one hand up and down. ‘Piano? Cello?’

Cullen smiled then, biting his bottom lip for a moment. It definitely wasn’t adorable. ‘I mess around with the guitar and I uh. I sing a bit too.’

‘Ah, that’s nice,’ Dorian said in a way that could not have made it more plain that the opposite was true. ‘At least you’re not a rock singer.’

‘Are rock singers bad, then?’

‘They can be,’ he said darkly, cryptically, he hoped. ‘ _But_ I am happy for you and your… hobby. Do you play any gigs, pubs and such?’

‘Ah, not too many pubs anymore,’ Cullen said nodding, returning to the safety of his tea.

‘Well,’ Dorian said bracingly, feeling slightly bad for the guy now. ‘I’m sure things will pick up.’

‘Hmm,’ Cullen said. ‘What do you do?’

‘Ah,’ Dorian sighed, spilling a little tea and momentarily mourning it. ‘That is the question, isn’t it? When you’re as devastatingly handsome as I am, not to mention jaw-droppingly intelligent, one tends to wander around in a fit of melancholy, flitting from one interest to another, attempting to fill the void left behind by a certain lead singer of a certain band who saw fit to cheat on me the same night he proposed to me and broke my heart to tiny pieces and then wrote a bestselling album, co-sung by the same prick he cheated on me with.’ When he took a breath, it trembled and he realised he’d said that _out-loud_. Fuck. ‘I uh. Photography. Lately it’s photography. I work in River Island, though. Y’know. The glory of a day job and all that. Do you… day job?’

Cullen’s eyes narrowed _ever so slightly_ as his brow furrowed, like Dorian’s question had thrown him a bit but the expression melted into a sweet, bemused little smile and _no_ , Dorian did not melt either, all right? He _didn_ _’t. ‘_ Not lately.’

‘Ah. Rich parents?’

‘They died years ago. Don’t worry,’ he told Dorian. ‘I’ll be able to make rent.’

‘Well that’s good,’ Dorian said, finishing his tea. ‘I own the loft, you know, but the money is so I can have a little creative freedom and such. Less hours in the day job,’ he found himself explaining awkwardly. ‘But it’s all utilities included and we can share the tea, though maybe not the bourbons, those are my favourites and—’

‘Dorian,’ Cullen said, placing a warm, strong, ridiculously _calloused_ hand atop his. ‘You don’t have to explain anything. I understand the need for creative freedom, completely. London is expensive. I’m happy to pay whatever to live here and to stay well away from your bourbons. I prefer rich tea myself.’

Dorian rolled his eyes, mostly to detract from how ridiculously hard his heart was pounding from a fucking _hand_ touching his own. Fuck, he needed to get laid. Touch starved and heartbroken had _probably_ not been the best state of mind in which to go searching for a roommate, but oh well. Tall, light and handsome was there now, too late. Already moved in.

‘You moved in quick,’ Dorian word-vomited because tequila apparently eroded the already wafer-thin filter between his mouth and brain. ‘I didn’t expect you till tomorrow.’

Cullen shrugged, removing his hand. ‘I didn’t have much and I hate hotels. I tend to just buy something when I need it. I don’t like collecting clutter.’

That was good. Dorian didn't like clutter, _at all_. He nodded sagely, attempting to sip from a cup that no longer had any tea to offer. ‘We’re soul mates,’ was what actually came out of his mouth. ‘I—that’s— _no_. I don’t like clutter either so we’re the same. It was. Fucking _hell._ We’re not soul mates, obviously. You’re way too… and I’m.’ Oh _God_. ‘What I mean is that we’ll get along great. As friends. As roommates. Because you’re clearly neat and I’m tidy.’ _Stop_. ‘Not… not in that way. No one says _tidy_ that way anymore anyway but. It’s good you don’t like clutter.’

Aside from a very slight widening of his eyes, Cullen had borne Dorian’s incoherent rambling with reasonable aplomb. He just nodded. ‘Yeah, clutter’s bad.’

Dorian stared moodily out at the cityscape, wishing he was currently plummeting down the side of the building. Fucking _Christ,_ what was even wrong with him?

He was drunk. Cullen was hot. He was heartbroken. It was late. He was horny. He was _always_ horny. Cullen was _hot_. He’d made him tea and touched his hand which might as well have been his mouth on his cock for how it had affected Dorian, drunk and lonely and _pathetic_ as he was.

So yes, to sum up, there might have been a fair amount wrong with him.

‘Another tea?’ Cullen offered, all friendly and chilled, like Dorian’s rant hadn’t affected him in the slightest. Dorian looked over quickly, deeply suspicious of the kind offer and lack of reproach for his outburst.

‘Um. I should probably go to bed. I have to be up at like. Well, eleven. But still.’

‘Are you sure?’ Cullen said, heading to the kitchen. ‘We can stay up and watch TV, or a movie? I’ll find one with barely any music in it. No _Moulin Rouge_ for you.’

Dorian forced himself to sit up, the world sitting up with him, his stomach protesting furiously at the lack of anything besides _liquids_ for the last twenty four hours.

‘Bit of a night owl, are you?’ he asked, aiming for casual and landing closer to someone who was barely keeping their vomit in check.

Cullen laughed. Oh, it was _pretty_.

‘Yeah, I got used to it. Late night practises and… stuff.’

Dorian rubbed his eyes, most likely making a terrible mess of his eyeliner but really, what was that compared to the _We_ _’re Soul Mates_ thing? ‘Stuff?’

‘Music stuff,’ Cullen said dismissively. ‘Not interesting _at all_.’

‘Do me a favour,’ Dorian called out. ‘Don’t write any songs about me, OK?’

‘Promise,’ Cullen called back.

Dorian nodded, head in his hands. He needed to be sick. Fuck. Now all he had to do was get to the bathroom and _subtly_ vomit without Cullen realising and everything would be fine.

‘Ooh,’ Cullen said, tone indicating he’d either spotted an enormous spider on the wall or was, in fact, looking at Dorian. ‘You don’t look so good.’

Dorian laughed bitterly but it was a mistake, jogging his belly like that. Oh for fuck’s sake, was he going to be sick there and then? On the nice, squishy bargain of a sofa in front of his new roommate who made great tea and was probably not a very good musician? _Really_?

But before it could happen, strong arms hoisted him up around the middle, pulling him carefully to a standing position. ‘Let’s get you to the bathroom, eh?’ Cullen was saying like he was taking Dorian somewhere nice, for hot chocolates in the rain or some romantic shit that Dorian had never experienced because his stupid _ex_ didn't do romance, didn’t believe in it. Dorian believed in romance, though. He wanted hot chocolate in the rain, maybe not right then because vomit was ten seconds from bursting free into the world, but one day.

‘I believe in romance,’ Cullen commented mildly, helping Dorian to kneel in front of the pristine toilet and Dorian groaned because he’d said that out loud as well. ‘I make good hot chocolate too. You’ll see.’

Dorian wanted to say he was glad that Cullen was considering staying long enough to make hot chocolate, that he was staying long enough to even see the light of _day_ but Cullen was rubbing his back and then, all dignity was long lost down the toilet.

*

Dorian awoke to merciful darkness, the sound of a beautiful voice and the smell of delicious things. All told, it was a far kinder awakening than he’d had for many years.

Though there was a brass band practising in the nether regions of his skull and his blood had turned to sawdust through the course of the night, he decided that he’d had worse days.

‘Morning,’ Cullen greeted in quiet, blissfully soft tones. ‘I wanted to let you sleep, but you said eleven, so.’ Dorian glanced blearily at his alarm clock; 11:17am. Cullen was carrying a tray, the contents of which were obscured in the gloom of Dorian’s bedroom, his thick dark grey velvet curtains drawn all the way. ‘I made you tea and um. Some breakfast too. I didn’t know how you liked your eggs, or if you even _like_ eggs, but—’

‘I like eggs,’ Dorian said, sitting up, throat immediately stinging in a vicious reminder that yes, he had actually vomited his guts up last night in front of Cullen. ‘Thank you. You didn't need to…’

Cullen set the tray down on his lap and all the words died in his sore throat because oh, but it was a platter of _heaven._ Cullen had made one variety of each. Two perfectly fried, a neat little circle of scrambled eggs on a bed of toast, a teeny, perfectly golden omelette and then in the middle, two beautifully poached eggs Benedict with smoked salmon and chives. Where in the ever loving fuck Cullen had gotten chives and salmon from, Dorian had no clue, but he didn't care.

‘This…’ he said, staring down at the plate, at the huge mug of perfectly made tea, at the way the knife and fork were wrapped in a makeshift napkin. The fact that his heart was doing funny things was because of the hangover, _nothing else_. ‘Um. Thank you.’

Cullen sat on the side of his bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

Dorian carefully unwrapped the knife and fork, then taking a sip of the tea, eyes fluttering slightly at the perfect taste, strength and temperature. Beneath the covers, he flexed his toes helplessly in excitement because how long had it been since he’d had breakfast in bed? Especially one this well made and… _oooh_ , what kind of cheese was that on the scrambled eggs?

‘Sorry?’ he asked, shaking himself. Cullen smiled, a half formed little thing that was probably teasing but just seemed _sweet_. Dorian was suddenly very grateful for the position of the tray.

‘How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, stalling for time with more tea. ‘Yes, bit better now. Thank you for. Um. Helping me last night. You didn’t have to and I definitely won’t make a habit of it.’

Cullen shrugged, unconcerned. ‘It’s OK. I don’t mind. I’ve seen worse, believe me. The last tour… ah, the last time I was out with other musicians, well. You were tame by comparison.’

At the mere mention of _musicians,_ Dorian winced and then winced some more because oh holy fuck, he’d told Cullen about his broken heart, about the six foot six man who’d taken said heart and shredded it, then profited from it and splashed it about on the radio for six months.

Vaguely, he wondered if Cullen was going to say anything about it but he seemed content to just… sit there, all relaxed and _happy_ like no creature on earth had any business being when this close to Dorian Pavus.

‘Well,’ Dorian said, cutting into a perfectly cooked fried egg, watching the sudden, glorious burst of orange goo with mild fascination. ‘I will find a way to repay this kindness, I assure you.’

Cullen waved a hand and stole a rectangle of toast before he got to his feet. ‘Don’t be silly, we’re roommates. I have to go, I have this… thing. Ugh. You were a wonderful excuse to postpone but I can’t get out of it, I’m afraid.’ At the door, he took a bite of the toast and threw a smile over his shoulder. ‘Have a great day!’

Dorian dipped his remaining toast into the yolk and wondered what the fuck was happening.

*


	2. I'd Like To Get To Know You (I'd Like To Take You Out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support and comments! Here's the next part because why not?

[](https://ibb.co/YQmrDhH)  
Gorgeous, amazing art by apudpir8 https://apudpir8.tumblr.com/post/623558476013142016/made-some-fan-art-based-on-oonionchivers-new-fic

Their first two weeks went off without a hitch, really. Cullen didn’t bring him breakfast in bed again (to Dorian’s simultaneous relief and disappointment) but he did make it. He laid up two plates and cooked all kinds of ridiculously delicious things with ingredients that Dorian never _had_.

Cullen was rarely there around dinner time but then neither was Dorian. His store was open until eight and he didn’t get back until nine. Cullen usually got in around nine thirty and then he would make dinner.

Dinner really tipped it, Dorian’s painful and headlong crash into adoring Cullen. When he’d said he could cook, he really wasn’t kidding. Cullen cooked all kinds of things that Dorian didn’t know were even possible in his small, but well laid out kitchen. It was always from fresh, always from _scratch_ and always mouth-wateringly delicious.

Over dinner, sometimes at the small table, sometimes on their laps in front of the TV, watching a film or a documentary (Cullen was obsessed with documentaries) they would chat. Idle things, nothing deep, nothing like that atrocious first night.

Cullen’s day was filled with whatever day job he had that Dorian had obviously forgotten all about thanks to mixing tequila and sambuca. He was always off and about. Sometimes he took his guitar with him, a nice looking thing that Dorian often glared at because it made _music_. He had a tendency to go out looking pretty plain (though still gorgeous) and return looking like he’d been in a photoshoot or something. Dorian wanted to ask, but that would mean admitting he forgot whatever Cullen had told him on that night. Maybe, he reasoned, Cullen took his guitar to play for his friends on his lunch break. If he worked in retail, in clothes like Dorian, maybe he was allowed to take stuff home sometimes. Or maybe he was the well-dressed shop assistant who modelled the clothes to make customers want them. That made slightly more sense.

After a nice first week, Dorian had to bite the bullet.

‘That was amazing, thank you,’ he said, finishing his last bite of chicken lasagne with garden salad and the most beautiful little potato thingies he’d ever had. ‘So, how was work?’

Cullen shrugged, carefully taking Dorian’s plate and laying it atop his own, whisking them out into the kitchen. ‘Long. Boring. You?’

‘Yeah, the same. My shirt got stuck in the till and tore. Everyone laughed. What about you? Any mishaps? Where you…um… work?’

‘Not really,’ he replied from the kitchen.

Dorian sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. ‘What was it you said you did again?’

Cullen returned with tea. ‘Sorry?’

Dorian took it, cheeks reddening to have to repeat himself. ‘What was it, specifically, you said you did again?’

‘Um,’ Cullen said, looking a little lost. ‘I’m a… musician?’

‘Yeah, no. I-I got that,’ Dorian said, the mere word making his chest contract painfully. ‘But I’m sorry to say that my antics last weekend meant that alcohol has scrubbed my memory of what it was you did for a day job.’

‘Oh, right. I don’t really have a day job, per se.’

Dorian sipped. Fuck, but that was good tea. He felt impossibly _relaxed;_ good food, nice non-threatening company, plentiful, well-made tea. ‘What do you do all day then?’

Cullen looked down. ‘Well. I fill it with… various things. I travel a lot. I’m all over London, here and there.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I see people, I talk to them. Answer… people. Write stuff. Sign… papers. Promote… things.’ His voice had gotten steadily slower and quieter as things had progressed and Dorian, emphatically _not_ drunk this time, could tell when he was digging into an area that made Cullen uncomfortable.

‘So, like odd jobs and stuff,’ Dorian filled in casually, deciding not to be a dick and throw him a lifeline.

Cullen took a deep breath of relief and flashed a smile. ‘Yeah, like that. I play a lot, though. At least a couple of hours each day.’

Dorian frowned slightly, holding his tea with both hands. ‘I never hear you.’

‘Yeah, I practise elsewhere,’ Cullen said like it was no big deal. ‘I know you don’t like music, so.’

‘But that’s…’ Dorian blurted out, suddenly feeling like the world’s biggest prick and not in a nice Guinness World Records kind of way. ‘This is your place too, you can do whatever you want here! Practice, play, bring people back! Well not people, I mean you _can_! Bring whoever you want back. Bring two, three - friends or… or not friends. I don’t judge, I once had… well, no that’s.’ _Fucking hell._ ‘Please feel free to practise here if you like. My shifts are reducing next week so I’ll be here more, but I promise it won’t bother me.’

Cullen looked up slowly, warily from his tea. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Am I—yes of course I am! You pay rent, you _cook_ everything. Please, play your guitar and sing your little heart out. I can't promise a round of applause but it won’t bother me at all.’ Oh, what a flat out lie that was. ‘Just… it’s not _rock_ , is it?’

Cullen bit his lips into his mouth for a second, seemingly swallowing down a smile before he said, ‘No, it’s not rock.’

‘Good,’ Dorian sighed. ‘I hate rock.’

Cullen nodded solemnly. ‘Me too.’

*

The weekend had come again, bringing begging messages from Lana and Sera, pleading with him to go out anywhere he wanted (which was a lie) and assurances that it would be nothing like the clusterfuck of last week (also a lie).

Dorian’s offer to invite Cullen was casual and he’d seemed genuinely regretful to turn it down, but he wanted to stay in and work on his music, bless him. Dorian had still never heard so much as a c minor, even in the shower, so he suspected that Cullen was actively _not_ practising when Dorian was there which made it hard to press his invitation.

The music in the club was monstrously loud and Dorian detested everyone inside, but alcohol helped.

‘SHOTS!’ Lana declared, flinging herself into Dorian’s arms at the bar. ‘Shots for _every—_ _’_

Dorian put his hand over her mouth before she could offer to buy a shot for every single wretched person in the place. ‘Just three,’ he repeated sternly to the bartender.

Lana was giggling when he removed his hand and Sera, who was thankfully more sober having work the next day, came up behind and hugged her.

‘Oh my God, did you see on Insta?’ Lana yelled loudly over the relentless thumpa-thumpa of night-time allure and minor keys. ‘Someone _definitely_ spotted him in this borough!’

Sera wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s fucking gross that people do that. It’s invasive and _gross_. Show me?’

‘It’s the third time this week, he has to live near here!’

‘Maybe he’s just shacking up.’

‘We should _find him_!’

‘No, we’re not stalking the guy. That’s even more gross. Plus we’d never find him.’

‘But I wanna _meet him_!’ Lana wheedled. ‘I want him to look at me while he sings _Swim into the Tide!’_

Sera elbowed Lana in the ribs glaring and Dorian sighed.

‘Oh,’ Lana said, eyes widening comically. ‘Shit, right. Yeah no. Sorry, Dor. No music stuff. Ignore us.’

‘Happily.’

‘So,’ Sera said firmly. ‘How’s the roommate?’

‘Yeah,’ Lana added eagerly. ‘Fucked him yet?’

Dorian feigned indignation. ‘No! I’m not… he’s a nice guy! I’m not just going to seduce him and then ruin the harmony of my living space, thanks very much!’

‘Is he straight?’

‘He looks straight.’

Lana winced, patting his shoulder. ‘Bad luck, babe.’

‘Why didn’t you bring him out? Lana could have sucked him off and then you’d know if he’s straight or not.’

Lana nodded earnestly.

Dorian ordered more alcohol.

At some point in the night, Dorian - pleasantly buzzed and nothing more - was minding his very own business when someone came over and interrupted his slow descent into being comfortably numb.

‘Are you _him_?’

Dorian jumped when the man, late twenties, drunk and with a cadre of his own kind, had the audacity to poke his shoulder. ‘Beg pardon?’

‘Are you him? The guy? The one that song’s about? _Demands_?’

It was like a bucket of ice water. No, a bucket of ice water with jagged glass and then a barrel of molten fucking _lava_ as a chaser, right down his spine. Dorian was alone, Sera and Lana throwing themselves around on the dance floor gracelessly.

When he didn’t answer, the guy crouched down. ‘It _is_ you, innit? I remember you being at the gigs. They still play that song, you know? Fuckin’ great song.’

Dorian seethed silently, blood turning to fire.

‘C’n I ask?’ the guy said, leaning close enough that Dorian felt like he was on a tour of a Fosters factory. ‘Are you _really_ that good of a fuck?’

*

‘Ow!’

‘Yes, Mr Pavus, I think _ow_ is expected when you’ve shattered a knuckle and given your thumb a metacarpal fracture. Stay still while I set it, please and tell your friends to stop taking selfies, thank you.’

*

On the plus side, when he got home he wasn’t even _remotely_ drunk.

On the negative side, he couldn’t get his keys in the door thanks to his lovely new thumb cast which he was to wear for two weeks. Sera and Lana had wasted no time in scribbling over it with lipstick and eyeliner in the Uber home, all of their art quite obscene.

On the even _more_ negative side, he wasn’t going to be able to work for at least two weeks. Folding and cash handling were _out. Why oh_ why hadn’t he punched with his left? He didn’t need his left. Stupid right, needed for absolutely everything including getting his key in the door at 2am after returning from the hospital.

The door opened prematurely and Dorian wasn’t greeted by Cullen, instead a fairly terrifying woman with a razor red bob, wearing a highly intimidating but stylish kind of _suit_ and a fierce glare.

‘Your roommate is home,’ she announced dryly, moving away for Dorian to enter the loft he _owned,_ thank you very much.

Inside, Cullen was on the sofa and Dorian could tell his head had been in his hands, but it shot up when Red spoke. Standing in front of him with his arms crossed was a man with a shock of white blonde hair and dazzling tattoos. Cullen got up quickly, almost comically so, eyes wide.

‘Dorian,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for the… these are—oh my God, you’re _hurt!_ ’

Dorian sighed. ‘I fractured my thumb on someone’s face.’

Cullen invaded his space, hands hovering uselessly around the cast with red engorged penises and massive black boobs complete with smudged nipples.

‘What happened? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Dorian said, peering around Cullen to the mysterious pair. ‘Your friends?’

‘Ah,’ Cullen said, hand flying to the back of his neck. ‘Yes. These are my best friends. This is Leliana,’ he said, gesturing to razor red who seemed unimpressed with Dorian’s existence overall. ‘She’s my… well, she manages things for me.’ Leliana, the _responsible_ friend, gave Cullen a fairly withering glare and he moved on quickly to the other. ‘And this is Fenris. He’s my… hmm. Well, he keeps my arse out of trouble.’

‘And danger,’ Fenris added darkly, giving Dorian a frankly _disturbing_ up and down, as if assessing a potential threat.

‘Hello,’ Dorian said miserably, waving with his left. ‘I’m going to make tea and drink it in bed. Does anyone want anything?’

Leliana shook her head briskly. Cullen said, ‘No thanks,’ and Fenris was still gauging Dorian for what, if any, lethality he posed to Cullen or the world entire. ‘I’ll help you,’ Cullen added, following Dorian behind the kitchen counter. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Dorian said in a tone that implied anything _but._ ‘I really shouldn’t try and punch anyone. I’m utterly crap at it.’

‘Who did you—?’

‘Can we get back on track, please?’ Leliana cut in. ‘This is actually _serious._ _’_

Cullen sighed, dropping two tea bags into Dorian’s favourite mug. ‘I’ve already said, I don’t want to, can we please _leave it now_?’

‘No,’ Leliana said and Fenris took over seamlessly.

‘It’s far too exposed here and people are smart enough to figure it out from the pictures. You know how this goes. It only takes one—’

‘Bourbon?’ Cullen offered Dorian, who’d been morosely examining his wreckage of a hand while only half listening. Cullen tipped the pack of chocolate biscuits out onto a small plate without waiting for Dorian’s answer.

‘The townhouse is empty now, Madeleine and Sophia are set up in Kent, there’s no need for this.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore,’ Cullen said in a voice Dorian had not yet heard him utilise. Something hard and unyielding. ‘I’m not leaving and that’s the fucking end of it. There’s a back way I can come and go, I’ll use that from now on.’

‘Cullen, you’re not being—’

‘I said, _no!_ _’_

Dorian stared at Cullen, noticed how his hands shook ever so slightly as he held Dorian’s tea and biscuits, how the plate trembled and the tea rippled.

When he lifted his gaze to Dorian, he managed a shaky kind of smile and said, in a far softer tone, ‘Sorry. I’ll t-take it into your room for you, yeah?’

And Dorian, reasonably astonished and distracted from his thumb, nodded mutely.

*

Cullen’s sigh was heavy.

‘I need to tell you a couple of things.’

Dorian had expected as much. He put down his phone, having given up trying to type and waited, feet up on the ottoman, the nature channel playing quietly in the background.

‘Go ahead.’

Cullen was palpably nervous. After last night, Dorian wasn't sure how it had ended with his friends, but he was certain it wasn’t anything _good_. He wrung his hands and avoided Dorian’s gaze like… like he’d done something wrong.

‘I have a daughter,’ he said quietly. ‘Sophia. She’s…’ he blew air through his teeth and made a clear effort to temper himself. ‘Her mother doesn’t let me see her. She’s not… she’s not biologically mine, but I—’ his voice gave out and Dorian had the mad urge to reach forward with his good hand and reassure him somehow. ‘It’s complicated and likely not anything you’re interested in hearing, but I love her very much, Sophia and I consider her my daughter. Madeline, my ex, won’t let me see her and she’s not the most pleasant of women, truth be told. There’s a legal mess at the minute and I just wanted to be away from it all. My friends don’t want me to stay here, they think I should be elsewhere. _Not hiding,_ as they put it. The second thing…’ he trailed off quietly, frowning intensely like it was causing him genuine pain to admit it.

Dorian decided to be kind.

‘You’re rich, aren’t you?’

Cullen burst out laughing. The shaky kind, the verging on hysterical kind. ‘Yes,’ he said, still in the vestiges of amusement. ‘I have money, yeah.’

‘Enough that your friends are baffled as to why you’re hiding out here with me?’

‘Yes, definitely.’

‘I mean,’ Dorian said with a smile. ‘I figured as much about the money. You shop in Waitrose, so that was a big indicator.’

Cullen laughed again but it was softer this time and by the end, it had turned into a small sob, his head falling into his hands. Dorian leaned forward helplessly, good hand on his shoulder, scooting closer because _God_ , but it broke his heart to see him like this, the insanely beautiful man who made breakfast and dinner and had wiped sick from Dorian’s mouth that first night while telling him it was fine.

‘I’m so sorry about your daughter,’ Dorian said, daring to wrap his left arm around Cullen, rubbing his side. Cullen stayed where he was, not moving but he didn’t shove Dorian away either and that was a good sign. ‘And I don’t care that you’re rich. I used to be rich so it’s not like it means much to me.’

Cullen looked up, wiping his nose. ‘You used to be rich?’

‘Yeah. Heir to a fortune that was snatched away before I came of age.’

‘What happened?’

Dorian sighed. ‘My father had a second family. My half brother and sister, a pair of twins, were older than me and so technically had more rights to the estate than I did. Pair of absolute twats, the both of them. I didn’t contend any of it in exchange for this,’ he said gesturing around with a small smile. ‘My mother left it to me. She knew I loved London. They let me have it and took everything else. It was a big adjustment.’ He laughed gently, thinking of those early years. Young, _stupid_ Dorian of the Past and all the shit he got himself into. ‘But I adjusted in the end and y’know, there’s worse things.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Cullen said frowning. ‘That must have been difficult.’

‘When I look back on it now, it seems like an adventure but that’s just because I know how it ends. At the time, it was scary. I didn’t _know_ things would be all right. I had no way of making money, no skills, no knowledge of how to get food or pay bills.’ He shrugged self-consciously. ‘I don’t know, it sounds lame but it was a tricky time, yeah.’

It was at this point that he realised Cullen’s hand was on his knee, thumb making soothing little oval patterns. Dorian felt it with a jolt of heat and want, but _fuck_ , it would be _deeply_ inappropriate to get hard while Cullen was _crying_ on his sofa.

He cleared his throat like that would do _anything_ and Cullen said, ‘I’m sorry for all that last night. They’re just worried about me. I shouldn’t have let them come here. This is your place and—’

‘It’s your place too,’ Dorian said quickly. ‘And it was nice to meet them. In a… terrifying sort of way.’

The blond smiled at that, hand moving up and down a few times before releasing Dorian’s knee entirely as he shifted closer _._ Fucking _closer_ , like there was an inch of space between them.

‘They’re good friends,’ he said, sounding a little raw. ‘Do you have good friends, Dorian?’

 _Fuuuuuck_ , the way he said his name… fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Dorian very delicately crossed his legs and laughed. ‘I do, yeah. Two girls. They’re very… exuberant.’

Cullen nodded. Their shoulders were pressed against one another, knees aligned perfectly as they sat side by side. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sophia.’

‘No, it’s fine. It’s a hard thing to tell anyone. I think it’s lovely you have a daughter. I bet you’re a wonderful Father.’

They were so close now that Dorian could count Cullen’s eyelashes if he so chose. Way too close for roommates, for friends, even. If he moved just slightly forward, his nose would brush Cullen’s and fucking hell, how he wanted that. How he wanted to touch him, slow and careful and then fall into him. Wanted Cullen to take his face in those rough, calloused hands and kiss him like he couldn’t help himself, push him back into the deep, plush cheap-as chips-sofa and…

‘Dorian,’ Cullen said in a bare whisper. ‘There’s something else I think I should tell you, something I’m not sure you realise. I’m actually, uh—’

The harsh vibrating of a phone on the coffee table shattered the moment.

Dorian closed his eyes and pressed his mouth in a thin line.

‘Sorry.’

‘No, that’s. It’s fine. Here.’

Cullen handed Dorian the phone but he couldn’t unlock it, couldn’t get a full thumb over the required scanner. He typed the code in manually instead while Cullen looked politely away.

It was a stupid WhatsApp voice message from Sera. Dorian stared at it, weighing the pros and cons of listening to it in front of Cullen and erring on the side of caution, deciding it was likely a message checking in to see if he needed anything.

He pressed play. ‘ _Hey titface, how_ _’s the hand? Thumbs down? Nah, sorry. That was_ bang _out of order, not right to punch down._ _’_ Dorian huffed a sigh at her absurd attempts at puns. _‘Just wanted to check if you need anything. Left handed dildo or whatever, though you could always get your roommate to—’_

‘Yeah, I’ll listen to that later!’ Dorian said, a full octave higher than usual as he scrambled to stop the message, his thumb mashing the _play_ button too many times, causing Sera’s message to play in stilted slips.

_‘Use his…great big…super straight dick.’_

When he finally got the hang of it, he shut the phone off and threw it down on the table, cheeks burning.

‘Your friend sounds nice,’ Cullen offered heroically.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, dying internally. ‘Yes,’ he ground out. ‘She’s _lovely._ Sorry about that. She’s… hyper and doesn’t know anything about you so she’s reduced to making baseless innuendo.’

His roommate gave an understanding nod. ‘It’s OK. I’m not, by the way.’

Dorian blinked. ‘Not hyper?’

‘Straight,’ Cullen said calmly. ‘I’m not straight. I don’t know what the kids call it now. Pansexual, I think? I always thought of it as being bi, but.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m definitely not straight.’

No, _now_ Dorian was dying internally.

*

Dorian’s work were not happy about his thumb. He went into work, valiantly, he might add, but realised he couldn’t actually _do_ anything beyond standing there and looking pretty and even that was waylaid by the grotesque cast. They’d sent him home with a pat on the back, which was to say, released him from his zero hours contract with a sad look and a promise to keep his CV on file. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said, guitar on his lap as he sat on his bed. Dorian had interrupted his session to inform him that he’d been let go and Cullen had obviously been expecting Dorian to be at work, therefore practising. He had a notebook out in front of him, pages filled with messy scrawl. Songs, probably. Oh, the way Dorian’s stomach clenched to see it. ‘That seems unfair.’

Dorian took a moment to look around at what Cullen had actually done to the room. There were three guitars, all on stands. Some framed pictures of people caught in a singular moment of happiness and a few other trinkets but otherwise, he hadn’t made any changes at all. The single bed was still there, the basic wardrobe and chest of drawers. Dorian frowned.

‘You’ve still got all the same stuff.’

‘Oh,’ Cullen said following his gaze. ‘Yeah, I don’t have much. Always travel light.’

‘Right, but this stuff is ancient,’ Dorian argued moving further into the small, but airy room, the windows open to allow a breeze in on that sunny June afternoon. Outside, the sounds of London drifted in. Traffic and voices, roadworks and whatever else was being done to improve the city.

Cullen inclined his head. ‘I like it.’

‘That bed is _tiny_. It was Lana’s and you’re a full two heads taller than she is.’

At that, Cullen laughed. ‘Maybe my feet stick out the end, sure, but I don’t mind. It’s cosy. I feel safe.’

Dorian didn’t know what to say to that. Could not quantify how it made him _feel_ that Cullen felt safe there.

‘I uh. Please don’t feel like you can’t play when I’m here. I really don’t care if I hear your music or singing, like at all. Play to your heart’s content.’

Cullen nodded slowly and Dorian had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to, no matter what Dorian said. That the first night he’d somehow made it impossible for Cullen to feel comfortable doing what he loved, exploring his creativity.

‘Why don’t you um. Play me something?’ Dorian said in a would-be casual manner.

Cullen looked up from his guitar. ‘You hate music.’

‘Well, I hate a lot of things,’ Dorian said, pressing a knee into the end of the small bed and following it down to sit. ‘Play for me, maybe I won’t hate it. If you want to, of course. Only if you want to.’

The blonde’s expression softened. ‘Uh, OK. What shall I…? No, OK. I know. All right.’

He started strumming gently, but it wasn’t mournful or… sad. It was sweet and happy. Dorian was thinking to himself that the melody was actually rather _pleasant._

And then Cullen started singing.

You see, there was a _reason_ Dorian hated music. A clear cut, perfectly reasonable fucking _reason_ why and that reason was that it made him feel things. Dorian hadn’t wanted to feel things for a long time, certainly not things brought about by music. Music had been weaponised against him, had been something he’d loved and then it had turned around and laughed in his face while gouging out his heart and stomping all over it for profit, for fame and for clicks.

There had been a day, one week after the festival, when Dorian had felt better. He’d decided it had blown over and he could get back to normal. He went to the coffee shop where he always went, queued for a flat white and the barista had been humming the lyrics to one of the songs that was playing on the radio. He _knew_ the lyrics already, lyrics about how Dorian was a void, a black hole with nothing to give, how he was shallow and not enough.

He’d gone home, taken pills and the rest was… well, it was only thanks to Lana - who had snuck in with her spare key while he was out, _borrowing_ his shampoo and a few other things - that he was alive.

After that, which he didn’t let himself think about in anything but an abstract way, he had a kind of mental breakdown. There had been whole months where he hadn’t left the loft, ordering groceries, tipping dangerously into his overdraft and Googling things like, _how to make money from home not a scam_ and _is it legal to sell kidneys reddit._ Those were the good days. There were far worse days. Days of dangerous, dark tunnel vision and the kind of despair that brooks no arguments, no convincing elsewhere. Days of hearing lyrics and recognising the tune from a song that his ex had been humming, planning the whole thing while Dorian had commented that it was nice.

It almost destroyed him and that was no fucking hyperbole.

But he’d gotten back up again and gone out into the world. It was well into October by the time he could go outside without having a panic attack and the songs of the summer were fading, other, newer attractions taking their place. He still heard a few, two in particular, but people cared less. The flash had faded enough that he could restart his life on a far smaller, almost completely private scale. His pain wasn’t the _hot thing_ anymore and so he’d been able to survive, just about.

It had taken him many months to claw back a version of himself that closely resembled the man he’d been before a rock singer had broken him apart and the majority of that _clawing_ had only been possible by avoiding music. Music was a trigger for him, the word explained to him by Sera. It triggered him, it triggered panic attacks and fear and sometimes set about a kind of weird dizziness that left Dorian worrying he was going to pass out.

And really, it was an _annoying_ thing to have an aversion to because music was fucking _everywhere_. In cabs, in the street, in shops, in cafes, in the _air_. People hummed it and they _talked_ about it. They talked about bands and singers and new, hot albums and Dorian stood there, feeling like the world was falling away beneath his feet.

It wasn’t possible to avoid it, but he did everything he could to try. When he took a cab, he requested LBC, though that never went down especially well. When Sera and Lana dragged him out, he chose dump dives that could never afford live bands because that was worse, so much worse than some pounding, vibrating mishmash of chords. He wanted to be a good friend. Jesus, he only had _two_ left and they’d stuck by him, even when everyone else said he was overreacting, said he should be thrilled he was famous, that the songs weren’t even that unflattering.

It had been a year of suffering and living on the edge of worry, never comfortable in his own skin when out and about but he was doing better.

But Cullen, sitting on his bed with his guitar… it was a mistake.

His voice was _beautiful_. It was just… it was soft, sweet and low, and oh _God_ , so full of feeling. He sang about things Dorian understood and yet _didn't,_ but none of it was sad, it was… life affirming. It made Dorian feel like he had a place in the world.

It broke him a little.

When he finished, Cullen went right into a casual, relaxed monologue of, ‘Yeah, I wrote that for Sophia. I never publi—well. It’s just for her, but I thought you might like it because it’s not a—uh. Dorian?’

Dorian was just sat there, trying to breathe. It was difficult, truth be told. His heart was doing all kinds of funny things, flipping and pounding and he was sweaty, sweaty _everywhere_ , like his skin had been flash fried and his brain was caught in a loop of the bridge, of Cullen’s voice perfectly hitting notes and speaking beautiful words and yeah, Dorian was fucked.

Cullen put the guitar down, concern etched into his brow. ‘Not so good?’

Dorian shook himself. ‘Um.’

‘I won’t play again,’ Cullen said quickly, smiling like it didn't hurt him at all and it must have done, must have hurt to play something _that_ beautiful and have the single membered audience sit there like a plank of deadwood, collapsing from within. ‘It’s silly, that song. It’s just for. Well. You want lunch? You’re never here for lunch. I’m gonna make lunch!’

He shot off the bed before Dorian could reply and really, that was good because Dorian wasn’t sure what to say.

*

Lunch was a chicken and fried vegetable salad, not to be confused with a stir fry or so Cullen had informed him. He used Greek yoghurt on the chicken and thin, perfectly crisped slices of courgettes with chantenay carrots and brussel sprouts cooked with little cubes of bacon so Dorian didn’t really care what the fuck it was called, just that he was permitted the honour of eating it, albeit one handed.

‘This is so good,’ he moaned and Cullen laughed almost nervously.

‘Thanks.’

‘How did you learn to cook?’

‘Madeline never cooked. Before that, I looked after my brother and sister, when I was younger. My older sister died in the same car as my parents when I was fifteen.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

Cullen smiled and shook his head. ‘It was ages ago, it’s fine. Anyway, I left school and started working, took care of Rosie and Branson best I could. Cooking was always easy, getting decent stuff to make what they actually _liked_ , that was always harder. There were a lot of chicken nugget days.’

Dorian felt a little awkward then, wanting to ask if his parents _hadn_ _’t_ left him all the money he had now, then where did it come from, but it was definitely not appropriate. Maybe a rich aunt or uncle had died and left it to him, who the fuck was Dorian anyway, his accountant?

Cullen went on regardless, pouring himself another glass of wine. ‘My first job was in a pub. They let me round up glasses and help keep things tidy, running errands and such. It’s where I got this,’ he said, indicating to the thin line, a delicate scar running down across both lips on his right hand side.

‘Changing a barrel?’

Cullen grinned crookedly. ‘Trying to be a hero, more like. Pulled some guy aside because he was harassing a barmaid and he glassed me.’

Dorian gaped. ‘He fucking _glassed_ you?’

‘I know, impressive right? I was sixteen and I got glassed in the face for protecting a girl. _Imagine_ how laid I got.’

He couldn’t help it, Dorian burst out laughing. ‘Fucking hell, I’m imagining quite a lot.’

‘Well,’ Cullen chuckled, stabbing a chunk of chicken. ‘That’s where I started singing, you know. They let me play on slow nights, had a chair and mic and everything.’

There it was, that fucking _gut punch_. Dorian hated himself then, God, couldn’t he just be normal one time? Fuck it. He _could_ be normal. ‘Did you write your own songs back then?’

‘Yeah. They were bad, though. A lot of angst, way too many metaphors.’

Dorian took a deep breath. _‘_ Your playing was beautiful,’ he blurted out. ‘I really liked that song.’

Cullen sipped his wine and shook his head. ‘You don’t have to—’

‘If I seemed at all _off_ it’s because…’ he grit his teeth and pushed on. ‘It’s because I have a bit of a hang-up about music making me feel things, that’s all. I promise. You’re very talented.’ He nodded decisively, poking the food around with his left, unable to adjust yet to being without his much needed _right_. ‘You shouldn’t give up. Maybe try and get back out there, into pubs and the like.’

Cullen got that weird little look on his face again the way he did sometimes when Dorian asked about his day or what he was doing that night.

‘Mmm,’ he agreed in a non-committal way. ‘You think I should?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Dorian said. ‘You should just turn up. Just go there and sing something and then leave. In and out.’

Cullen tilted his head, like he was considering it. ‘I do miss pubs and clubs. The last time was when Sophia just learnt to walk.’

‘How old is Sophia, if I can ask?’

Cullen’s smile turned bright and genuine. ‘She’s four, five in July. I’m hoping I’ll be able to see her by then. Work something out, y’know.’

‘I hope so too,’ Dorian said. ‘If you do work it out and you’re…’ _still here._ ‘Well, I’d love to meet her.’

Oh, but it was dangerous when Cullen sort of _melted_ like that. ‘Really?’

‘Of course. If she’s anything like her Father, then I’m sure she’s a wonderful little lady.’

Oh fucking Christ, Dorian, why not just _propose_?

A delicate flush of colour tainted Cullen’s cheeks. ‘That’s kind, thank you. Leliana is helping me with the legalities. I stand a good chance of joint custody, but Madeline is…’ he sighed, clearly not wanting to bad mouth the mother of his child. ‘Difficult. She keep threatening me with all kinds of things.’

‘Like what?’

Cullen shrugged, spearing a carrot. ‘Exposing things about me. Secrets, things I wouldn’t want made public.’

Ugh, Dorian sympathised. ‘My ex, he uh. Well, I think I told you about the _Dorian_ album? He wrote fourteen songs about me, none of them remotely nice and it hit the charts, went fucking viral. It was like he split me open and put me in a museum.’

‘God, I’m so sorry,’ Cullen said pouring Dorian another glass of wine. ‘I can’t imagine how someone could do that.’

‘He said it was his creative process and I should have been,’ Dorian paused, laughing bitterly. _‘Flattered_. Did I tell you he proposed to me?’

Cullen nodded, leaning on one hand, listening raptly, a small frown denting his pretty forehead and Dorian realised they were day drinking and it was barely 2pm, but he gave not a single fuck.

‘Well, he asked me to marry him _on stage,_ at the sodding Download Festival no less. I said yes, like the complete idiot I am. It was all extremely romantic right up until three hours later when I found him fucking his co-singer.’ Dorian took a long pull of the carefully chosen white wine. ‘He had the album ready to go, you see. It was a _stunt_. A fucking stunt. It was all over YouTube, there’s this. This clip of me screaming at him in the halls, crying.’

‘You don’t need to—’

‘No, I. I want to say it out loud, at least once. His bass player was filming it. Had been waiting. It was all staged, except I didn't get the memo. It blew up overnight. I deleted everything, all my media, the lot. All I have now is an Instagram under a fake name that I use for filters and pretty pictures of things I photograph. The album went to number one. It was… crazy. Everything was crazy.’

Dorian waited because he wasn’t _stupid_. He’d told Cullen enough now for him to likely know what band it was, who his _ex_ was. Though perhaps not as famous as many other bands, _Fully Charged_ was still a big deal in the UK and Cullen had to have twigged.

But he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, drinking wine and staring at Dorian like that wasn’t the end of the story.

And it wasn’t, not as Dorian had told it.

‘So, uh,’ he cleared his throat, tapping his fingernails on the side of the glass. ‘I went through a rough period after that. Didn’t go out much. Got into a bit of debt. Lost nearly all my friends, only Lana and Sera stuck around. There were days when I wanted to die.’

It hung in the air between them and Dorian didn’t dare glance up from the table, couldn’t bear to see what Cullen thought of that so he pushed on.

‘But after a while I got over it, mostly. Got a new job, started thinking about myself again, about my own needs. Self-care and all that shit, right? Then a couple of weeks ago, I decided to get a new roommate. Lana had been moved out for ages and I. Well. Here you are.’

Silence reigned for what felt like whole _minutes._ It was only when he looked up to find Cullen staring at him in a relaxed manner, nothing remotely judgemental or overly furious, no emotions for Dorian to absorb and quantify.

‘You’re amazing,’ was what Cullen said. ‘Completely fucking amazing.’

Dorian did not feel amazing, not even a little but he laughed anyway and nodded. ‘Well observed. Tell me something about you,’ he added quickly, finishing off the last of the wine. ‘Please.’

Cullen leaned back in the chair and looked off to the side for a moment, blinking slowly. ‘When I got with Madeline, I was twenty. I fell hard for her but she never really treated me with anything resembling kindness. She cheated on me all the time, told me it was my fault. I couldn’t satisfy her, I couldn’t take care of her so she had to go elsewhere. When she got pregnant years later, I knew it wasn’t mine but it… it still _was_. I don’t know, it was all messed up in my head. I was more excited than she was, or that’s how it seemed anyway. When Sophia was born, Madeline left me with her for five months. It was so difficult for Sophia. She was three weeks old and she—’ his throat caught, jaw working. ‘She needed her Mother. I would wear Madeline’s dressing gown and hold her, try to calm her down. I didn’t know what I was doing, but we figured it out, me and my baby girl. Then, five months later, Madeline came back. New haircut, new boyfriend and she took Sophia away without so much as leaving her number. I tried to find her but she was gone and when I went to the police, they said Sophia wasn’t my daughter by blood so there was nothing I could do.’ Cullen sighed, wrapping his arms about himself. ‘A year later, around the time I started to get… well, when I came into some money, she came back again. Said I could have time with Sophia if I paid her, that I owed child support and I’d better pay up or be taken to court. It’s been a nightmare since then and I can count on one hand the amount of times she’s let me see Sophia in the last six months. It’s awful. I miss her so much. God, I’m sorry,’ Cullen said abruptly, getting up from the table and not-so surreptitiously wiping his eyes. ‘This likely isn’t what you were asking for is it?’

Dorian got up quickly, swallowing down the reply that yes, actually, this was exactly what he wanted so he didn’t feel like quite such a loser, quite such a failure.

He went around the table and acting on instinct, he pulled Cullen into his arms, wrapping him in a hug. It was a little awkward at first, Cullen, quite rightly, seemed taken aback by being hugged out of nowhere but once he put his arms around Dorian in return, dropping his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck, everything felt a lot better.

*


	3. Glitter Your Eyes For The Town (Tell Every Last Boy That You're My Man)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments, feedback and ART! Seriously, I'm so happy.  
> Updates won't be this regular or often on a normal basis, it's just because I have like, 10 chapters all complete and ready to go but I will PACE MYSELF, I really will. 
> 
> Enjoy!

[](https://ibb.co/mHt9qGb)  
Stunning, breath-taking art by the amazingly talented Apudpir8

>   
>  [Body Glitter](//imgur.com/a/ct5ldiV)

‘Is that the fifth bottle or the sixth?’

Dorian giggled because in all honesty, he didn’t _know_.

‘It’s your fault,’ he said to Cullen who was slouching on his bed in Dorian’s room while he scoured through his things, trying to find what he was looking for. ‘You’re the one who apparently has an endless supply of wine.’

‘It’s for cooking,’ Cullen chuckled, looking around Dorian’s room with interest. After their hug, there had been more wine and more _talking_ and then less talking, more _communicating_. Dorian had started showing Cullen things. Pictures, photos, belongings. ‘But it goes down well without food all the same,’ he admitted, taking another swig right from the bottle.

Dorian was bent in half, cheek on the floor as he reached beneath his bed with his one remaining useful hand, finding a handle and pulling on the box. ‘Here!’ he declared, smiling brightly. ‘I found it.’

‘Very impressive, considering it’s your room,’ Cullen teased, shuffling lower into the comfy pillows of Dorian’s double bed.

Dorian threw off the plastic lid and immediately began rifling around while Cullen’s phone rang. The man lounging on his bed answered it with a reluctant sigh.

‘Hello? Yeah, I did. I know that. I already told him. Email. Look, I’m not coming and that’s final. I don’t care. Fine. Great, do that. I’ll make it up to them, I swear. We’ll do a session, a whole thing, I promise, all right? No, it’s not that. I just need a break. A tiny one.’

Dorian ruthlessly ignored the small flare of guilt he felt because Cullen was blowing off his odd jobs or whatever else he did to fill his day because of _Dorian_ , but he let the gentle sense of warmth it caused slip through no problem whatso-fucking-ever.

‘Yes, I will. You too. Bye.’

Dorian, having found what he was looking for, held it up proudly with his left hand and said, ‘Ta-da!’

Cullen tossed his phone on the bed and leaned forward. ‘Oh my God, you weren’t lying.’

‘I am many things, but a liar isn’t one of them,’ Dorian chuckled. ‘And like I said, no one in all of the South East loved _Eastenders_ more than me.’

In Dorian’s hand was a photograph of Phil Mitchell, signed by the actor who played him. ‘I have several others, but this one was my favourite. Look at his great, bald head. Look at all that _rage_ , simmering beneath the surface.’

Cullen set down his wine bottle and took the framed photo, respectful and reverent. _‘Dear Dorian, Lisa Shot Me, Love Phil.’_

‘I personally requested that,’ Dorian said proudly, all feelings of insecurity and _badness_ so very far away just then. He wanted to share things, even silly things. To share himself.

How fucking weird was _that_?

‘You’re a dork,’ Cullen declared gleefully. ‘A total dork.’

‘Pffft! I, my friend, am a connoisseur of the finer things in life.’

‘What else is in there?’

Dorian blinked, unprepared. ‘Uh, well.’

‘Oh my God, is that a Nokia 6210?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Are those leather trousers?’

‘They might be.’

‘Is that… _body glitter_?’

‘Look, there was a very specific period when _everyone on the face of the earth_ wore body glitter, all right? It was a two hour slot and some people slept through it, that’s all.’

Cullen didn’t seem repulsed, far from it. ‘Do they still fit?’

‘The trousers? I haven’t worn them in four years, but I’d wager yes, they do.’

‘Are you sure? Leather shrinks over time.’

Feigning outrage, Dorian put his hand to his chest. ‘Are you suggesting that my body at twenty two isn’t the same at twenty six?’

Cullen’s eyes were gleaming with something definitely fiendish. ‘I’m _suggesting_ that they won’t fit.’

‘Wanna bet?’

‘Maybe. What are the terms?’

‘Loser lets the winner paint them with body glitter.’

The grin turned wide, bright white teeth flashing in a way that made Dorian’s skin flush a little too warm. ‘Perfect, because there is _no way_ they will still fit you after four years in a box. Leather shrinks.’

‘Right then, turn away, perv.’

Cullen dutifully looked away while Dorian shrugged out of his jeans and shook out the leather trousers, attempting to revive them once more. One leg at a time, it was an admittedly tight-ish fit, but the buttons did up and that was all that mattered.

‘Hah!’ he declared and Cullen looked around, taking in Dorian’s form with… not the expression Dorian expected. He went sort of _blank_ , seemed a bit lost for a second as his eyes travelled over Dorian’s body, over the tight trousers, over his exposed naval from where he’d rucked up his white t-shirt, all the way up to Dorian’s face and then locking eyes, amber brown to stormy grey.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Cullen said, a touch breathless. ‘You win. You definitely win.’

Dorian sort of faltered for a moment, unsure of what to make of that, that _look_ in Cullen’s eyes, like he couldn’t catch his breath, like he was afraid.

‘Which means you’re the _loser_!’ he crowed, defaulting to safety. ‘Get off my bed, you’re not getting glitter all over it.’

Cullen groaned and the moment broke. He tried to hide under Dorian’s covers, burrowing like a mole beneath the light duvet and silky top sheet but Dorian pursued him.

‘Get…out here… now look, you’re all tangled!’

Cullen had indeed become tangled in the silk throw, head and shoulders beneath the duvet, back shaking with laughter. He turned suddenly, pulling Dorian on top of him, most likely by accident ( _of course it was an accident, for the love of all that was holy)_ and then proceeded to try and bury Dorian beneath the duvet too.

A small fight broke out that wasn’t really a fight at all, but a playful kind of wrestling for dominance of the duvet. Cullen was interestingly _strong,_ though Dorian had the feeling he was holding back even then.

When Dorian pinned him, pulling away the silken material with a burst of crackling static, Cullen’s hair was in stunning disarray and he was breathing fast, laughing softly, eyes glittering.

Gorgeous. He was painfully, achingly _gorgeous_.

Dorian’s hands were loosely around his wrists, sat on his stomach, legs on either side of his ribs. Cullen stared up, chest slowing, rhythm establishing once more but Cullen could see how hard his heart was beating in the hollow of his throat. Of a throat he wanted to _taste_ , wanted to brush lips against the skin he knew would be salty and smooth and then maybe drag his teeth, ever so gentle, but ever so _not,_ too. Cullen might moan, might make a beautiful broken little noise in the base of that throat and Dorian would grind himself down _hard_ , wanting to lose himself forever in—

‘Body glitter then?’

Cullen’s words were a lifeline back to reality. Dorian took it, rolling off of him with more grace than should have been possible considering the fucking state of him, drunk, confused and impossibly horny. He semi jack-knifed the bed, landing like a cat on the floor.

‘That was impressive,’ Cullen admitted.

Dorian picked up the pack of body glitters; purple, gold, red and blue. ‘Hmm,’ Dorian said, pretending he found the four tubs fascinating. ‘Preference?’

‘I guess, purple and gold?’

‘Yeah, they’re nice. Don’t want you looking like a Union Jack, do we?’

Cullen snorted and dissolved into a fit of laughter, falling back into the bed while Dorian opened the small, clear pots. It smelled nice. The chemical goo had made an effort to be as unobtrusive as possible. The gold and purple were deeply pretty and it was the high quality kind. Intense sparkles.

‘C’mere then,’ Dorian said, placing the opened pots on his nightstand. ‘No hiding, you lost fair and square to the greatness of my perfect arse in these ancient leather trousers.’ Yeah, that and the raging erection he was _willing_ away. He was lucky they were so fucking tight, literally not an _inch_ of give, otherwise it might have been obvious.

Cullen half sighed, half groaned and Dorian wanted to chase the noise away with kisses, oh so many kisses.

‘All right, glitter me up, Dorian,’ he said, finally freeing himself of the now twisted duvet and silk throw. He yanked his t-shirt over his head and stood up. 

Dorian had… not thought this through.

He held his arms out wide, eyes closed, standing before Dorian patiently.

‘Right then,’ Dorian said in what he hoped was a perfectly normal voice. ‘Penalty time, loser.’

Cullen smirked, eyes still closed. ‘Punish me, already.’

 _Fuuuuuuuuck_.

Dorian swallowed hard, dipping two fingers into the cool, soft goo, pleased to see there was minimal grit but utterly unable to disconnect his gutter-brain from providing all sorts of filthy suggestions about what else could be done with that body glitter. With a decent amount on his index and middle fingers, he stared at the blank canvas that was Cullen’s chest. The man stood there, at least two thirds drunk, arms wide like he was doing a fucking Jesus impression, eyes closed because… because he trusted Dorian.

‘I mean, maybe put your arms down, eh?’

Cullen snorted, grinning and he opened his eyes and Dorian regretted it because now he was going to have to touch Cullen and _paint_ him with pretty, shiny things while Cullen fucking _watched_.

Deciding that hesitating was actually making it worse, he drew a line down the dead centre of Cullen’s chest, following the inner line right between all those muscles, between his perfectly formed and rounded pecs, between his nipples, between a smattering of light, golden hair and this… oh God, this had been a very bad idea.

Cullen shivered slightly when Dorian’s fingers ran lower across his skin.

‘Cold,’ he said with a weird little smile and Dorian didn’t dare look him in the eye, did not fucking _dare_. He finished drawing the line, thick with shimmering ooze and then decided fuck it and smeared that line everywhere, spread it around with his palm and went back for more. ‘Did you wear this when you went out?’

Dorian smiled a little, glad for the chance to speak and distract himself as he liberally applied more, this time on the upper chest. ‘I did, actually. When my Dad died, I was seventeen, and… I don’t know. I just sort of went a bit crazy. He didn’t know I was gay, I never told him and that upset me, even though he would have massively disapproved. I went to a lot of gay bars and clubs, did the whole scene except I broke the cardinal rule _of_ the gay scene.’

‘Which is?’

‘That I loved it. See, you’re not supposed to actually _love_ the scene, but I did. I fucking loved it. Shirtless, body glitter, piercings, the whole shebang.’

‘ _Piercings_?’

Dorian smirked rather wickedly, crooking an eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know? But yeah, I loved it and you’re not actually meant to. There’s a disaffected kind of nihilism about the gay scene. You can take part in it, but you’re supposed to view it with disdain. I did not.’ Dorian laughed, shaking his head, now spreading the glitter with two hands and making a damned fine mess. ‘I mean, who did I think I was, Brian fucking Kinney?’

Cullen squinted. ‘Who’s Brian Kinney?’

Dorian shook his head and sighed. ‘ _Cullen_.’

‘What?’

‘Are you even queer? Even a little bit?’

‘I’ll have you know I am,’ Cullen insisted. ‘ _And_ I’ll have you know that it’s not easy being bisexual, especially when you’re with someone of the opposite gender. Gays call you traitor, straights call you a slut. Pardon me for not knowing some paragon of gayness or whatever.’

Dorian smirked at his huffy tone, pushing the liquid glitter over broad shoulders, over muscle and bone and skin and when he pushed, Cullen swayed just a little, but Dorian righted him, kept him steady. ‘He’s from _Queer as Folk_. We can watch it later if you want. If you don’t have to be anywhere.’ He glanced down at Cullen’s phone, face up on the end of the bed. It was flashing, put on silent. ‘Someone’s calling you, actually.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘Leave it.’

When the call from Leliana ended, the screen stayed on long enough for Dorian to make out the 58 missed calls, 157 messages and 4 voicemails.

‘Um, your shit’s like… blowing up.’

‘Are you body glittering me or not?’

Ooh, the pushy tone. Dorian preened helplessly at Cullen ignoring things in his life that were obviously important in favour of Dorian. Preened but also slightly worried about it too.

‘I am,’ Dorian assured him. ‘And then if you’re a good boy, later we can watch the show and I’ll show you who Brian Kinney is.’

Cullen shivered again and said in a low, husky way, ‘I’ll be good.’

Dorian’s throat worked and he kept his gaze very much focused on the glitter, on the purple he was smearing everywhere. It needed some gold, he decided. The gold was bright and so shiny it made Dorian smile because it reminded him of Cullen’s hair and _Jesus Christ_ after this, after _this_ he was going back on _Grindr_ , he really was. A few freaks and catfish were worth wading through if it meant he wasn’t in this perpetual state of _Ever Horny_.

The gold he placed in finer lines, accentuating all Cullen’s muscles and dips, all the parts of him that were carved, that were fucking _perfect_ and Dorian was getting a bit lost in it, truth be told. His focus on Cullen was absolute, like he was an art project, like he was _art_.

When his chest was done, he did his shoulders, the tops of his arms, trailing a few messy little lines down over biceps that had no right to be so _big_ , over perfect pale skin, stark contrast to Dorian’s bronze shade. He then dragged his hands back up, slowly, fingertips trailing, all the way to Cullen’s neck. A light smear on either side, up over his jawline, just accentuating the curve there, the perfect gorgeous cut of his jaw. He smeared his thumbs there before realising he was _holding Cullen_ _’s face_ in his hands like he was about to kiss him.

Which he wasn’t, he really wasn’t.

‘Well,’ he said, voice like he was gargling fucking _marbles_. ‘I think you’re all done.’ He looked down at his hands, messy and glittery still with traces of the liquid. He was _not_ about to wipe them on his trousers, plus his t-shirt was white and that stuff fucking _stained_ , he knew from experience. ‘Hmm,’ he hummed, caught in a brief drunken dilemma where he forgot about things like _water_ and _soap_ because they existed outside of the room with the closed door and _nothing_ existed outside, nothing.

‘Wipe them on me,’ Cullen said in a voice that was almost enough to _ruin_ Dorian then because fucking hell, he sounded how Dorian felt.

‘It stains,’ Dorian said a little weakly. ‘On clothes, it—’

‘Push your fingers through my hair.’

Oh.

Fucking. 

Christ.

Dorian made a noise that was mostly, ‘ _Guh_ ,’ but partially, ‘OK.’ He stepped back into that intimate space, into Cullen’s breathing room, close enough to smell his skin, all covered with glitter and colour and wetness as it was, and then because he was fucking _mental_ apparently, he did just what Cullen suggested. 

He lifted his hands to Cullen’s temples, to the borderline of all those pretty gold curls, soft and wavy and he _pushed_ his fingertips into it all. Pushed them right in, gentle and careful but also really, truly _wiping_ his fingers in Cullen’s hair and the feel of it, the fucking _feel_ of it. Soft and perfect and fuck, he wanted to kiss him. They were dangerously close, faces level, eye to eye, nose to nose, a bare fucking millimetre of space and his fingers were tangling, were getting lost and so was Dorian. He kept on going, pushing deeper until they were all the way around the back of Cullen’s head and it was _almost_ like an embrace; a weird, tangled, _lethal_ embrace. Lethal because Dorian knew how easy it would be to fall this time. To fall and never recover. To fall into this man and never fucking resurface.

His fingertips brushed the nape of Cullen’s neck and a sound slipped past plush, perfect lips; a broken off breath that hit a high note, something like a _keen_.

Dorian’s fingers were clean and Cullen was a mess; a beautiful, glittering _mess_ and this close, their bodies were almost pressing together. Dorian _wanted_ it. Wanted that glimmering slip-slide, wanted mess and need and Cullen _inside_ him, wanted it enough that it burned in the back of his throat.

‘Better?’ Cullen whispered. Dorian realised he was barely breathing, that the man before him was almost holding his breath entirely and so was Dorian, not daring to ride the exhale, afraid of where any amount of release would take him.

Dorian did the only thing that made sense and stepped away, breaking contact immediately. ‘Yeah,’ he said, voice rough with desire. ‘Yeah, much.’

His fingers were shaking, body simply _furious_ with him for not giving in.

‘Uh, don’t take this the wrong way,’ Cullen said quietly, something trembling in it. ‘But you rubbing glitter all over my body has sort of had… an effect on me.’

Dorian blinked, shook himself. ‘What?’

Cullen laughed, but it was a _tiny_ bit forced. ‘It’s been a long time and ah, well. You know like when you get a massage and then sometimes you. Um. Y’know?’

And because he was drunk, because he was _stupid,_ Dorian looked down. South of the glorious mess born of purple and gold, south of the belt buckle holding up faded blue jeans, south of his _sanity_ and there was Cullen’s cock. Hidden behind tight, restraining fabric but fucking undeniably _hard_ and very much there and… rather large too, which was really an understatement.

Dorian’s eyebrows vanished into his hairline, eyes half hooded, lips bitten into his mouth to prevent him saying anything or, God forbid, _doing_ anything like dropping to his knees and mouthing along that hard line, yanking that belt off, pushing those jeans down and freeing it, freeing it completely and then… maybe putting some glitter there too.

‘…to make you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t really help it,’ Cullen was saying and Dorian was nodding like he understood, like a fucking Churchill nodding _dog_ at this point because what else was he supposed to do and he still hadn’t looked away from Cullen’s dick. ‘Just need to get laid I think.’

Dorian made a noise of agreement and stepped back, _way_ back that time because if he didn’t, he was going to throw his arms wide and offer himself up as tribute.

‘Mmm,’ he agreed in a serious voice, wrenching his gaze away and trying to think of sad things. Of Jack Dawson drifting down into the icy waters of the North Atlantic, of the Terminator thumbs up before melting into lava, of the fucking curtain call in _Moulin Rouge_ and yet his dick had decided that all those things were mere water against Teflon in terms of his hard-on abating. Perfect.

Cullen took a breath, a sign of a speedy inhale. ‘Do I look suitably ridiculous, then?’ he asked, gazing down at his own body.

‘Um.’ Dorian swallowed. ‘Yes, very… ridiculous. Very pretty, though,’ he couldn’t help but add. ‘Glittery.’

It was a mistake to look up and see how Cullen’s hair was curling even more with glittery gel in it, that it now looked _styled_ , roughed up like he’d been freshly fucked.

‘Can I…’ Dorian said, almost losing his nerve. ‘Let me take a picture of you?’

Cullen looked up sharply. ‘What?’ he laughed, a definite note of something nervous there now. ‘What for?’

‘Well,’ Dorian said, sticky hands fiddling with each other. ‘Because I like taking pictures of…’ _beautiful things._ ‘Stuff. And because, not gonna lie, I’m rather proud of what I made here.’ Cullen looked down again, visibly swallowing.

‘I look good?’ he said in that fucking _voice_ again.

‘Yeah,’ Dorian said in a bracing kind of way. ‘Yeah, you look good.’

Cullen was staring at the floor and suddenly he was tense, he was fucking _rigid_ like whatever he was about to ask physically pained him to voice. ‘Do you… ah. Do I look…?’

 _Don_ _’t say it, don’t say it, don’t_ say it _, Dorian, you absolute wanker._

‘You look beautiful.’

Cullen’s breath caught, punching out harshly, helplessly. He flushed quickly, no delay in it, neck turning deeply pink, cheeks flooded with colour and he didn’t look at Dorian but he didn’t need to. Dorian knew how it affected him, that little bit of praise. It was like being handed the world’s greatest gift then, knowing he could absolutely ruin Cullen if he wanted to. Call him beautiful, tell him he was perfect, so fucking gorgeous that it made Dorian’s head spin.

‘So, can I take your picture?’

He seemed a bit _dazed_ , in all honesty but Cullen nodded and Dorian retrieved his phone, opened the camera app and framed Cullen up. The light was all bad, so he closed his curtains, put on his mood lamp, choosing a light pink colour that perfectly cooled the purple and made the gold rosy. Made Cullen fucking _glow_.

‘OK, now just. Stand there and look pretty.’

Cullen swallowed again, visibly trying to reign himself in that time and Dorian couldn’t wait any longer, just started taking pictures. He took a lot, way more than he should have but he couldn’t stop.

‘That’s good,’ he found himself saying. ‘Look at me?’

Cullen did it, brought that heavy, wrecked gaze to Dorian and oh, it was a weighty thing, even filtered by the lens. Dorian pressed the shutter button over and over, soft clicking sound the only noise in the whole room.

‘That’s perfect,’ he said because apparently he was a fucking masochist. Cullen bit his bottom lip, looking almost pained. ‘Touch your hair.’

Dorian nearly came in his fucking boxers like a fourteen year old watching porn for the first time when Cullen actually _did it_ , put both hands in his hair, mirroring what Dorian had done earlier. The light caught every shadow, every curve of his stomach, of his muscles, his abs, his pectorals. The glitter showed all his perfection, just made it clear.

‘So good,’ Dorian said, only watching Cullen through the camera because that way, it wasn’t real. ‘You’re so good.’

Cullen’s jaw worked, eyes closed and Dorian kept on pressing the shutter, kept right on capturing all of it. ‘Put one hand on your throat, over the collarbone. That’s it, so good. You look amazing, yeah. Now, look at me again. Good. Perfect. Beautiful.’

There was something a bit _wild_ about Cullen now, something almost dangerous and the camera was picking it up perfectly. That Dorian would be wanking to these pictures later, there was zero doubt but they were more than that. They were… well, they were art. There was no way to deny it. Dorian was capturing actual fucking _art_ for the first time in his foray of being a photographer.

‘Hand in the middle of your stomach, head back, just a little, show me your throat. That’s good, to the left, but keep your eyes on me, you’re doing so good. Doing so well.’

Cullen hadn’t spoken for a long time, just doing every little thing that Dorian asked, but the air was thick with tension, with need. Dorian was affecting Cullen in a serious way, he could tell and Dorian was too fucking weak to call it a day and run to the bathroom to jerk off like any normal man, no he had to stay, had to see it, had to _push_.

‘Hook your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and just… push it down a little. Yeah, just like that, lower your gaze, hold it there for me, perfect. You’re perfect. You look so good, you don’t even _know_.’

What in the ever loving fuck was he _doing_? This was the kind of thing that _roommates_ did not do. Friends didn’t do this shit either. This was irreversible territory here, the point of no fucking return.

‘Part your lips a little, yeah just like that. Eyes on me, always on me, so good, Cullen. So perfect. All right, maybe um.’ He swallowed and it fucking hurt. ‘Maybe get on the bed?’

Cullen nodded, sitting on the bed and then backing up, keeping his gaze on Dorian just like he’d been told. ‘That’s excellent, look at you, all glittering and perfect. Drop your left leg, keep the other one up, hands on either side, in the silk, that’s it.’

He had to have taken a thousand pictures by this point, had to be running out of space but he was caught, _lost_ in it, in the madness, in the magic. Removed from reality, from music, from being fired, from anything that wasn’t Cullen covered in glitter, looking at him like he was ten seconds from begging for something that would take them firmly _out_ of the friendship circle and headfirst into something very much _else_.

He also had the distinct feeling that if he told Cullen to touch himself, the man would do it. That if he said _take your cock out for me and stroke it,_ Cullen would actually do it and let him photograph it and that… _that_ above all else gave Dorian a reality check.

Because Cullen was his friend, because they lived together. Because he _trusted_ Cullen and Cullen trusted him back and this… _this_ kind of thing, it wrecked things like that.

He lowered the phone, exhaled steadily. ‘That was… wow. You really photograph well.’

Cullen hadn’t moved yet. Dorian tried not to think about how it _might_ be possible that he didn’t want to move unless instructed.

And Dorian decided to fall back on years of experience in getting himself out of trouble in one very specific way. He looked around and then shook his head.

‘You know what, I think I’m totally fucking wasted.’

It broke the spell like a stone through a stained glass window. Cullen’s posture unfroze, but did not relax, definitely didn't relax. It was a _cheap_ fucking out and Dorian knew it but it was all he had. Short of falling to his knees and pleading for Cullen to be his boyfriend, he didn’t know what else to do.

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said, averting his gaze. ‘I think. Me too. I should, uh. I should shower.’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian laughed hollowly, thinking of all that beautiful glitter circling the drain, thinking of how Cullen would probably take himself in hand beneath the water, head pressed against the tiles, eyes closed tight. ‘Yeah, good idea.’

He wondered in a curious, distant kind of way if Cullen was _angry_ at him. If he thought Dorian was a prick-tease, had led him on at all. He knew men who definitely would have gotten mad, whose reaction to being shut down in such a manner would have been nothing less than ugly.

Cullen slid off the bed carefully and when he stood up, Dorian felt himself swallow nervously, guilt itching up his spine because he’d taken it too far, _way_ too fucking far and it was all his fault and—

‘This was fun,’ Cullen said, smiling softly, one hand on the now opened door, looking back at Dorian with something like gratitude. ‘I really like your body glitter. I might get some, hit the scene one day and see what it’s all about.’

Just like that, all the worry, all the sick, twisting guilt… _vanished_.

‘This _was_ fun,’ Dorian agreed. ‘Shall we order takeaway for dinner?’

‘Ooh,’ Cullen said, looking severely tempted. ‘Thai?’

‘Thai.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a note, comment, emoji, whatever you can spare 💜💜💜


	4. You Should Be Wilder (You're No Fun At All)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million for all the amazing support, kindness and art. I'm blown away. 💜💜💜

After Cullen was done in the shower, Dorian went next because yeah, he really needed a fucking shower and thank God that Cullen hadn’t taken too long.

Dorian noted that there wasn't a speck of glitter anywhere, no mess. Cullen never left mess after showers which was wonderful because Dorian despised soggy towels on floors and un-wiped, watermarked glass.

He stripped off quicker than ever before in his whole life, despite the issue of his stupid mangled hand, and got beneath the hot spray, immediately feeling better, feeling safer. He’d been on the verge of vibrating out of his skin up until then, forced normality and the pretence of being drunk weighing heavily but all that was melting away under the water, hot and perfect.

Dorian barely touched his cock before he came, Cullen’s eyes in mind, that heavy gaze, the way the other man had reacted to praise, the feel of him beneath his hands, letting him cover him in glitter. He came hard and fast and though it wasn't relief, he would have to come again for that, it certainly took the edge off, left him feeling almost normal.

He showered thoroughly, taking his sweet time because why not let as much time pass as possible before he went back out there? The more time passed, the more distance he could put between _Normal Dorian_ and _Dorian Who Took Pictures and Touched Cullen_ _’s Hair_. _Normal Dorian_ would laugh at the latter, shake his head and say, _‘Wow, what a fucking idiot that guy is,’_ and he would be completely right.

By the time he emerged, towel around his waist, hair damp, moustache perfectly attended to, eyeliner lightly re-applied, he felt a lot better about himself and the situation overall. It was a stupid, friendly, man thing. Men did that, he reckoned. They didn’t talk about it, for sure _but_ he was certain that men who were friends sometimes put glitter on each other and… photographed it. Then jerked off thinking about it.

Perfectly normal.

Something smelled delicious. ‘Did you order it already?’ he called out, heading towards the open plan area of kitchen/living room. Cullen was, of course, in the kitchen. ‘You’re _cooking_?’

Cullen raised his hands, grinning. ‘Hear me out.’

Dorian sighed and shook his head. ‘Go on.’

‘ _A_ \- I cook _really_ good pad thai. _B_ \- this way we don’t have to wait before we watch your _Queer Word_ show.’

‘ _Queer as Folk_ , but good points so far.’

‘And _C_ \- I don’t want to ruin our streak.’

‘… streak?’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said easily, doing that cool flippy thing with the pan, a light burst of controlled flame reflected in perfect, honeyed eyes. ‘We always have dinner together and I always make it.’

Oh _God_.

‘Anyway, you’re gonna love it. Get dressed, it’ll be ready in ten.’

Dorian nodded mutely, heading into his bedroom in search of his favourite comfy sweatshirt and a pair of very _loose_ , baggy joggers, just in case. His bedroom was… oddly pristine. Cullen had apparently tidied up in there. The box of old memories back under the bed, no trace of glitter, bed freshly made, Dorian’s phone on charge on the bedside table.

Dorian got dressed quickly, noting that his hair needed a trim when he looked in the mirror. The front part was longer than usual, curling at the ends. He was most _definitely_ not thinking about Cullen’s hair, about pushing slick, glittery fingers through it. _Nope_.

While he dressed, he heard Cullen speaking softly out in the kitchen, voice barely audible over the sounds of cooking and the oven fan.

 _‘_ I don’t care how much it costs,’ he was saying quietly, patiently. ‘If they want me for the arena tour, they’ll let it go this time. _Because_ I want to be here, Fen, all right? Yes, he is. Well, that’s not relevant. Just tell them I’ll do all kinds of promotion to make up for it, I’ll do two extra days at no cost, whatever will keep them happy.’

Dorian frowned, feeling bad for listening. Cullen’s job was… weird, but he was obviously of value to the company or whatever it was, especially if he was helping with _arenas_ and _promotions_. Maybe he was in advertising. Maybe he was a _promoter_.

It was a little bit weird now, that Dorian still didn’t know what he _did,_ but he was in no position to make demands when he himself had no job and, aside from 1038 new pictures in his phone, no claim to knowing fuck all about artistic photography.

He emerged from his bedroom feeling fresh and warm, a strange kind of excitement coiling in his stomach. ‘Well, I won’t lie, that smells better than the takeaway kind.’

Cullen was plating up, smiling to himself as he took a bite of a crunchy sugar snap pea pod, sprinkling something over it with a hint of flourish. Maybe he was a secret _chef_. Like the kind who only cook for rich people when they want to impress other rich people but then… no. _Cullen_ was rich. He had money already. Ugh, Dorian gave up.

He found the DVD he was looking for and set it up, plonking down lightly into his corner of the sofa while Cullen brought his plate over.

‘Here you go,’ he said handing it to Dorian carefully, that steaming platter of fresh, well-made _goodness_.

Dorian made an incoherent sound of happiness as Cullen put a cushion on his lap and sat close by, a few feet of space between them.

‘This looks _so good,_ thank you _._ _’_

Cullen sat down, careful not to spill any of the brilliance he’d whipped up from their ever increasing variety of ingredients. ‘You’re welcome. So, is this it? The queer thing?’

Dorian rolled his eyes. ‘ _The queer thing_ ,’ he echoed with heavy disdain. ‘Honestly, call yourself bi. _Queer as Folk_ was a benchmark for queers all over the world. Not the British one, you understand. That was good in its own way but… anyway. The American one is far better, trust me.’

Cullen just flashed a smile but Dorian knew what it meant, what was implied. That he _did_ trust Dorian.

A fact that Dorian was actually beginning to regret after the first twenty minutes of the episode. He’d forgotten how much sex was in this show and how _graphic_ said sex was, in all honesty. It was getting a bit… well, awkward, at least on Dorian’s side of things. The few times he glanced over at Cullen, the man seemed entirely at ease, watching intently and clearly enjoying himself. His phone was on the armchair, face down. It wasn’t vibrating but he knew it was probably on. Dorian hoped Cullen’s friends had given up trying to get him to do… whatever it was he did.

When Brian Kinney started rimming Justin Taylor, Dorian cleared his throat _real_ loud and said, ‘Oh, by the way, what was all that earlier, from your friends? While I was changing?’

Cullen was staring at the screen, clearly riveted. ‘Hmm?’

Dorian huffed and fell silent for a few sulky seconds before he found his cheeks fucking _burning_ from looking at the screen. This was something he’d watched with his friends back in the day, like, at least four or five friends, laughing and catcalling but very much enjoying the show. Why didn’t it feel the same? Why did it feel… indecent now?

Why was his heart doing all kinds of dangerous things, being this close to Cullen while all manner of delightful fuckery happened on screen? He finished his dinner, exquisite and flavourful, and tried to think of a way _out_ of watching another episode. Thank God for the fucking _cushion_ on his lap, eh?

It was while contemplating feigning illness or even claiming tiredness at 7:56pm, that someone knocked on his door. Cullen looked up from the screen, frowning slightly. He glanced at his phone and sighed.

‘It’s probably for me,’ he said, sliding gracefully off the sofa, scooping Dorian’s empty plate atop his own and dropping them off in the kitchen while Dorian paused the TV and regained his sanity.

Sanity which was then _shattered_ when Cullen opened the door to find Sera and Lana standing there, a bottle of wine in each hand.

 _‘SURPRI_ —’ the word jointly died in their mouth and Dorian got up quickly, hoping to spare Cullen the embarrassment of his fucking annoying friends. Their eyes were mutually riveted to the blond, astonishment writ large across their features and neither had moved. It was almost comical, had it not been so fucking embarrassing.

‘Ah,’ Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Hi.’

Sera looked like she was about to keel over and Lana shook herself hard.

‘You’re… you’re…. holy _fuck_!’

It was way louder than Dorian could stand and so he hurried over, scowling at them both.

They swivelled their gaze at him weakly, mouths wide. It was a whole new level of acting up even from those two.

‘You could have _called_ ,’ he said sternly, giving them his best _don_ _’t fuck with me bitches_ look.

‘We did,’ Sera said, eyes actually managing to widen when Cullen stood back from the door to politely invite them in. She nudged Lana hard, almost sending her flying. ‘We… uh. We did.’

Cullen cleared his throat, smiling politely and went to the kitchen. He was not remotely out of earshot, but Dorian took what he could.

‘ _What are you doing here_?’ he hissed. ‘Look, I appreciate the,’ he said, throwing a dark look at the wine. ‘offer of Tesco’s own brand wine, but I’m… having a night in.’

Lana grabbed his hand. ‘Dorian… _this_ is your fucking roommate? Why didn’t you tell us? Oh my God, are you NDA’d? Are we gonna have to sign something too? It’s for the best, I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut.’

Sera glowered. ‘Yes you _will_!’

‘I’ve never tried MDA, though you two clearly seem to be high as fucking kites on _something_! What is with you, acting so—ah. That’s very kind, thanks, Cullen.’

Cullen had returned, nudging the door shut behind the girls, two glasses of wine in one hand. He offered them to each with a smile. ‘We’ve got leftover pad thai if you want some?’

Dorian’s eyes closed. This was a fucking nightmare.

‘I dunno,’ Sera said slowly, looking to Dorian for guidance, face weirdly bloodless. ‘Maybe we should… go?’

‘Yes.’

‘ _No_.’

‘Lana—'

‘I _love_ pad thai,’ Lana clarified loudly, clearly. ‘ _Love_ it!’

‘Yeah, great,’ Sera said, no less wonder-struck but a little more serious at least. ‘Thanks, uh…’

‘I’m Cullen,’ the beautiful blond said, offering his hand.

‘Yyyyyyeah,’ Sera said slowly, a weird kind of smile on her face. ‘I’m Sera.’

‘I’m Ellana. Ellana Lavellan, but everyone calls me Lana. Sorry, what was your name again?’

Sera shot her a filthy look as the tiny raven haired woman followed Cullen into the kitchen, but Lana ignored it completely.

‘Cullen,’ he repeated with the patience and grace of a man sent direct from God.

‘That’s a gorgeous name,’ she said quickly, hopping up onto the kitchen counter, almost sending the bread bin careening off the side. ‘You don’t hear that much these days. It’s pretty rare.’

‘Mmm,’ he commented, making two smaller bowls of what was left over. ‘Ellana is a nice name.’

‘Oh, thank you. I hate it myself, _much_ prefer Lana, bit of old time class, y’know? Ooh, that looks so yummy, did you make that yourself?’

He chuckled softly at her abundant enthusiasm. ‘Believe it or not, I did.’

‘SO!’ Dorian said, rushing to Cullen’s rescue, immediately helping with the plating, or in this case _bowl_ ing. ‘Why the drop by?’

‘You got fired,’ Sera said.

He frowned. ‘How did you even know about that?’

‘Heard it from Krem,’ Lana said while Sera shot daggers. ‘Uh, that is to say that Krem went in there, heard about it and messaged me to ask if you were OK.’

Cullen glanced at Dorian, a kind of _check in_ , to see if he was all right perhaps. His adorable little smile helped.

‘Don’t know why you even still talk to him,’ Sera muttered.

‘Krem’s a good guy,’ Dorian said miserably, hating the fact that if Krem, former band member of _Fully Charged_ knew about him getting fired, then it was possible that somehow, it might have gotten back to _The Ex_. Dorian wished it didn’t cause a stabbing pain, hot as steam burn, just thinking about it.

‘He only asked because your boss said you broke your hand,’ Lana added, making Dorian feel minimally better.

‘Any allergies?’ Cullen asked. Lana, who hadn’t moved her gaze from him even once, shook her head, sighing softly. ‘Sera?’

Sera seemed weirdly shocked to be addressed by her name and Dorian was really over this whole routine. Honestly, _yes_ Cullen was gorgeous, yes he was breath-taking but Sera was as gay as they came, for fuck’s sake. She shook her head and Cullen sprinkled crushed peanuts over the top.

‘I fractured my thumb, not broke my hand,’ Dorian said, desperate to fill the weird void. ‘It’s a fucking nightmare not to get wet either. Showering was a disaster.’

‘Oh yeah, it’s all soggy,’ Sera observed half-heartedly.

‘Well,’ Cullen said, shrugging. ‘At least you can’t see all the tits and cocks now.’

Lana nearly fell off the countertop and Sera came down with a choking fit.

Cullen offered the bowls to each of them, an easy but somewhat practised smile in place. ‘Your artwork I assume?’ he ventured, fishing out forks for each of them.

‘Yeah,’ Lana said, recovering her position on the surface, accepting the bowl like it was her firstborn.

‘I drew the tits,’ Sera said, nodding. ‘Slutsville over there drew the wangs.’

‘Sera!’ Lana gasped, pale face simply _flooding_ red. ‘I am not a… how dare you?’

But Sera was warming to her theme now, thankfully having gotten over how insanely beautiful and perfect Cullen was. ‘You _literally_ fucked a guy this morning before work.’

Lana looked like she was on the verge of tears when Cullen valiantly came to her rescue. ‘Confidence in sexuality isn’t a bad thing,’ he offered gently. ‘It should be celebrated.’

Sera cocked an eyebrow. ‘It was in an alley!’

‘ _Sera!_ _’_

‘In broad daylight. Behind a friggin’ poodle parlour!’

‘Oh,’ Cullen said. He turned to look at Lana then, features perfectly arranged in sympathy. ‘Yeah, no. You’re a slut.’

Sera and Dorian burst out laughing and Lana, when she realised he was teasing, began to laugh too, some of her colour abating. ‘Fuck you!’

Cullen rolled his eyes, not taking the easy bait, and nicked one of her prawns. ‘C’mon, let’s eat at the table. We can open your… hmm. Wine.’

‘Don’t say it like that!’ Lana bemoaned, hopping off the countertop, wobbling on her heels a little. ‘It’s good stuff that, no frills.’

Cullen studied the plain, very _stark_ blue and white label. ‘There are definitely no frills here, I agree.’ He went to open it with a corkscrew, but Sera stepped in, grinning widely.

‘I know a better way!’ she insisted, making grabby hands for the bottle.

‘Sera, no,’ Dorian warned, the way one does with a dog about to lift it’s leg indoors.

Cullen, darling naive Cullen, handed it over to her and she grinned fiendishly. ‘Watch _this!_ _’_

Sera lifted the bottle high over her head, the base perfectly level with the floor and then proceeded to drop it, a wide grin in place.

The bottle landed, shattered and wine exploded everywhere.

‘Ah, fucknuts!’

‘You absolute mangletwat! Look what you’ve done now. There is _glass_ on my shoes! That never works, how many _times_?’

‘It worked in the fucking GIF!’

‘THE GIF WAS STAGED!’

‘It’s fine, it’s totally fine,’ Cullen said, trying to come between the two best friends while Dorian tasted the wine on his lips in a resigned kind of way and couldn’t bring himself to mourn the loss, not when it tasted of sugary vinegar. ‘I’ll just get a dustpan and brush, it’s not a problem.’

‘SEE NOW!?’ Lana fairly screamed, wiping wine off of her chest. ‘You’ve got Cullen fucking _Rutherford_ cleaning up your mess, you fucktit!’

Dorian frowned, trying to recall if Cullen had introduced himself as such upon their disastrous entry into his otherwise blissfully peaceful and glass free home.

Sera glowered, the face melting kind. ‘ANYWAY!’ she yelled. ‘It was bad wine. I killed it. S’all good now, innit?’

Lana opened her mouth to say something else, but she seemed to catch herself especially when Cullen returned quickly, bending to sweep and mop and that, if nothing else, sprung Dorian into action, bending down.

‘No, no, let me help, please.’

He expected Cullen to make a joke, to smile at the very least but Cullen just frowned and said, ‘No, it’s sharp. Stay back.’

Dorian blinked, looking at the river of piss poor wine all over his gorgeous hardwood floor, a thousand broken pieces between them. ‘Cullen, I can help.’

‘You’re barefoot.’

‘Yeah, well, so are you.’

‘Please?’ Cullen said, brushing the glass carefully into the pan, a ridiculous pink thing with cheap plastic gems in the handle, something from Poundland, Dorian thought. ‘Let me just clear it all up and then we’ll have some decent wine, OK?’

More than a little baffled, Dorian got up to find both Lana and Sera watching him with identical expressions of wonder-doused astonishment.

‘Come on, you pair of tornados. Over here while the room is made safe once more.’

They followed him over to the lounge area where, of course, Queer as Folk was still paused and oh, it was a perfect pause.

‘Is that—?’

‘Cullen didn’t know who Brian Kinney was,’ Dorian laughed quickly and _loudly_ before Lana started asking if they’d been watching motherfucking gay porn together.

‘Love that show,’ Sera sighed. ‘So _hot_ when men get together.’

Lana kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the sofa. ‘You’re a _shite_ lesbian.’

‘Fuck off, man on man is _hot_ , especially when it’s all like, them fighting their emotions and stuff, struggling to _abstain_. Quality.’

Lana inclined her head. ‘It’s hot when they were lacy underwear.’

Dorian was dying.

‘Nah, that’s personal preference,’ Sera went on looking at the screen and then at Dorian with a degree of expectation like he was going to fucking well _un-pause_ the scene and allow it to play out while his two Disaster Besties sat and dissected male queerness and the origins of the allure to women. Meanwhile, the man he’d painted with body glitter and masturbated over with his left hand instead of right was _on his knees_ cleaning up glass so Dorian didn’t cut his feet. ‘You gonna play it or what?’

‘No,’ he managed, a little higher than intended, a little more indignant than he liked, for sure. ‘No, I’m bloody well—hey!’

Lana had nabbed the remote, pressing play herself and Dorian gave up, he really did.

‘See,’ she said, pointing at the now _very active_ men having highly believable TV-sex on Dorian’s favourite queer show. ‘It would be so much better if they were wearing corsets. Oooh, suspenders! Suspenders are the best! Pink would be good. Lacier the better, I say.’

‘You’re literally a whore,’ Sera ribbed pleasantly. ‘It’s hot _enough_ without that. Look, see, because Brian fucking Kinney doesn’t do repeats but he’s doing it! He _falls_ for Justin, despite all his barriers.’ Sera clutched her heart, sighing. ‘Despite all his _man-pain._ _’_

Dorian needed new friends. Or no friends.

‘I’m almost done,’ Cullen called out, his voice shaking with barely concealed amusement. ‘It’s all dry, I just need to hoover.’

Both girls looked over in what Dorian suspected they thought to be a _surreptitious_ way and he tried to brace himself. The second Cullen was out of sight, headed to the cleaning cupboard, Lana yanked Dorian down on the sofa beside her.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell us _Cullen Rutherford_ was your roommate?’

‘Ow! No need for _that_ and why should I tell you? It’s none of your business.’

Lana seemed lost for words, gesturing weakly for help from Sera.

‘Dor,’ the blond put in gravely. ‘Look, we know you hate musicians—’

‘I do _not_ , I hate music, there’s a difference and how do you know he plays? Did you see him down the pub or something?’ He glared mildly. ‘Do you _know_ him?’

Both girls were openly gawking at him now like he’d started speaking in tongues.

‘Dorian,’ Lana said and he was shocked to hear how _serious_ she sounded. ‘That’s Cullen fucking Rutherford, babe.’

‘Oh, like Brian fucking Kinney? Yeah, I know.’

‘Do you, though?’

‘He showed me ID at the interview, yes that’s his name.’

‘Cullen Rutherford the _musician_.’

Dorian rolled his eyes, something anxious tightening around his heart like piano wire. ‘Yeah, he plays, so what? He played for me the other day.’

At that, both girls looked shocked.

‘He did?’

‘Yeah it was all… very adequate. Look, if _that_ _’s_ what you’re worried about, then I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me. I didn’t realise you knew him, though.’

‘It’s…’ Lana seemed lost for words. ‘We don’t _know_ him—well. I mean, _I_ know a bit about—’ Sera punched her in the thigh. ‘Fucking _ow_! Uncalled for, bitch!’

Dorian rubbed the back of his neck warily. ‘He said he hasn’t played in pubs and clubs for a while.’

Lana, despite being punched, didn’t hesitate to reply with a snort. ‘Yeah, he’s _probably_ a bit too busy with arenas?’

Dorian’s eyes widened. ‘So he _does_ work in arenas, then?’

‘Uh, yeah, just a bit.’

‘That’s where you know him from?’

‘Yeah, we saw him a few months ago in the Hammersmith.’

Ugh, the Hammersmith. Dorian had _memories_. ‘Look, I don’t care about that, any of it. He’s my roommate and he’s… my friend too. I don’t want to hear about him busking outside or… or serving drinks or _whatever_ he was doing, all right? You know I hate all that shit, gigs and stuff.’

Lana looked back at Sera and they both seemed to be in some sort of moral _quandary_ , over what Dorian didn’t really get, but he was relieved when they let it go.

‘Yeah,’ Lana said, placing her hand gently over his. ‘We uh. We know, babe. Sorry.’

‘We were just excited.’

‘Because he’s hot.’

 _‘So_ hot.’

‘Who’s hot?’

Dorian’s skeleton made a reasonable attempt to vacate his body because Cullen’s voice sounded _way_ nearer than it had any right to be.

‘Brian Kinney,’ Sera said, effortlessly cool.

‘Ah,’ Cullen said, plugging in the hoover. ‘I have to agree there.’

The noise of the vacuum provided the last bit of cover the three best friends would get all night, but neither girl took advantage of it, perhaps not knowing what to say. They just smiled and patted his hand, sometimes his hair and then Cullen was joining them, the floor now deemed _safe_.

‘What did I miss?’ he asked, squishing himself beside Dorian on the now rather _full_ sofa. He smelled of cheap wine and hoover bags and Dorian wished that either of those were off-putting enough to mask the delicate scent of his warm skin beneath it, lingering traces of his aftershave, of his soap and shampoo. He pretended not to see just the _tiniest_ streak of something glittery on the side of his neck too and looked away quickly.

‘It’s OK,’ Lana said, winking unsubtly at Dorian. ‘We can just rewind it!’

*


	5. Your Love Is Better Than Ice Cream (Better Than Anything Else I've Tried)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long (for this fic!) and extra early chapter because you guys are so so sweet and I'm so grateful for your support and kindness. Update day is still officially Friday, but hey, fuck it. 2020 could use a hint of glitter.

A surreal span of time passed with Sera and Lana sat beside him, Cullen on his left while the four of them watched three episodes, waded through a lot of on-screen sex and hilarity. At least with the girls there, the sex scenes were not even remotely awkward. They bickered back and forth about what actors were queer in real life, about the rumours of who hooked up on set, about how it remained the single greatest queer show of all time. Dorian sat beside Cullen and felt suspended from time, from reality.

At some point, hard to say when, Cullen had lifted his arm behind Dorian’s head to extend it over the back of the cushions. It wasn't touching Dorian exactly, but oh, he could feel the heat, could sense the proximity of that arm. Of that big, strong arm with fingers that had pushed into glittery hair, eyes that were locked onto Dorian while he took pictures, gave commands and pretty much ruined every other wank-fantasy he’d ever stored up in his brain.

And it was… weirdly comfortable. The girls still shot Cullen looks every now and then. Lana viciously elbowed Sera in the ribs at one point when she noticed where Cullen’s arm had ventured. But it was definitely not awkward, not _tense_. Cullen’s relaxed disposition set them all at ease, set Dorian at ease in a way that was… dangerous.

Somewhere around ten, Sera began to fake yawn and comment about the time. Lana took far longer to get the message, but eventually the girls were putting their shoes back on, praising Cullen’s pad thai to the sky.

‘We normally go out at weekends,’ Lana was saying, pulling her jacket on. ‘It’s crap and the drinks are absolutely rank, but it’s cheap and the tunes are… well, no. Yeah, no. Maybe you shouldn’t come actually. Hmm. Ooh, we could come _here_ , with you two! We could bring better wine.’

‘Yeah, maybe _ASDA_ _’s_ own, this time,’ Sera smirked.

‘And you could make more of that pad thai!’ Lana suggested brightly. ‘We could make it a double date, a _friendship_ date!’ she corrected, winking at Dorian as if Cullen wasn't standing right in front of her, all four of them hovering around the door.

‘That… sounds lovely,’ Cullen said, sweet smile in place. ‘It was great meeting you both.’

‘You too!’ they chorused, sending tiny glares at one another for daring to infringe upon the other’s space.

‘Well,’ Dorian said, wanting to hurry their departure. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

Lana squinted. ‘You never ring us. You never ring _anyone_.’

‘C’mon, babe,’ Sera chuckled, half dragging her friend away. ‘Have a good night, you two!’

The door shut and Dorian finally began to feel a little more relaxed, like he could breathe again, except that five seconds later, from the end of the hall where they were likely waiting for the lift, the pair let out an absolutely earth shattering scream of delight like they couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Hand over his eyes, Dorian uttered, ‘I’m so sorry.’

Cullen just laughed. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, like it happened all the time. ‘They’re very… exuberant.’

‘Yes, like a pair of toddlers who got into a coffee jar,’ Dorian said, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth because clusterfuck friends they might be, but they _were_ his friends. ‘They’re not usually like that. I think they were just excited to meet you. I haven’t talked about you much and they—oh, but not in, like, a _bad_ way. I wasn’t _not_ talking about you because you’re boring or whatever, it was just respecting your right to privacy.’

Cullen went about making tea. Dorian followed him into the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t taken it the wrong way.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Cullen said easily. God, he made everything seem _easy_. ‘I love that you don’t talk about me. It’s nice.’

Dorian watched his strange tea routine, brow slightly furrowed. ‘So, they knew you from the Hammersmith?’

Cullen faltered a little, spilling tea over the side just a tad as he cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, they must have seen me.’

Dorian nodded and asked in a would-be casual kind of way, ‘What were you… doing there?’

It was weird, how Cullen was perfectly at ease with Sera and Lana nicking their leftovers and talking about gay sex, fine with them screaming in the hall, but when Dorian asked outright for some kind of clarification, his hand that stirred the tea actually trembled a bit.

‘Music stuff,’ he said with what was meant to be a dismissive shrug.

But Dorian wasn’t going to be deterred this time. ‘What music stuff?’

Cullen sighed, handing Dorian his tea. He was oddly pale, resigned almost. ‘Do you really want to know?’ he asked and oh God, but there was something sad about him now and Dorian couldn’t bear it, _hated_ that he’d made him look that way. He was about to pursue anyway, push on because he really _did_ need to know, even if it was _obviously_ related to music somehow.

But then it occurred to him and he felt suddenly, impossibly _stupid_.

He closed his eyes because _fuck_ , but it had been so obvious.

Cullen was in the music business, he had money, he had influence, he was obviously _known,_ even just a little.

He had to be a promoter.

Of course he was a promoter, they did all kinds of things at all kinds of weird hours but more than that. Fucking hell, more than that, he’d probably (read; _definitely_ ) promoted _Fully Charged_ at some point, probably still did.

Oh God.

That was it. That was why he didn’t want to tell Dorian, because he’d caught on right away who the _ex_ was, who the band was. Christ, of _course_ he would know about all the YouTube shit and the album. He’d probably been involved with it at some point, before he knew Dorian. 

Oh, fucking _Christ_.

Dorian looked away. It had become difficult to breathe now, the room slightly spinning. He heard that melody, bridge from _The Void and I_ , the song that had stayed at number one for three weeks straight.

‘Dorian? Dorian, are you OK?’

He dropped the tea, splattering his lovely floors with mess and shards for the second time that night and he was about to apologise when everything went very dark.

*

This time when he awoke, he was instantly aware of Cullen beside him. The long suffering guy had dragged a dining room chair into the bedroom, was sat there with his head in his hands and Dorian watched him for a little while when he woke, opened his eyes and just took in the sight of him. Of Cullen _worrying_ about him.

It was not especially smart to assume Cullen was worrying about him. Really, he could have been bored out of his mind, waiting for Dorian to wake so he could leave and leave _properly_ this time but… but something in the pit of Dorian’s stomach insisted that he was worried, that he cared. That it was OK to assume someone beyond the two crazy girls of his life actually _wanted_ to be there, actually gave a shit.

When he moved, Cullen’s entire body jolted to life, face snapping up to look at Dorian with wide eyes, parted lips.

‘Fucking _Christ_!’ he exhaled in a trembling kind of _whoosh_ , hand on his heart. ‘Thank God, I was seriously another ten seconds away from calling paramedics. I didn’t know if you’d hurt yourself when you fell, I only caught you before your head cracked on the floor, but you definitely… sorry, _sorry._ Are you—how are you feeling? You want some water?’

Dorian slow blinked, trying to jog his brain back to functioning like a normal person’s might. He had the distinct feeling that he’d _missed_ something, because really, Cullen barely knew him and he was… he was shaken up, that’s how it seemed. Shaken and worried, fingers genuinely trembling a little. He watched Dorian like a fucking _hawk,_ like he was reading him, drinking in every little detail and it just didn’t make sense.

Because Dorian was absolutely fucking _pathetic._ He had literally _passed out_ at the mere idea that Cullen was somehow involved with his ex, even in a professional capacity.

Pathetic.

And yet, Cullen sat there, waiting on Dorian’s word, energy of a coiled spring ready to snap, like he would have done anything for Dorian then.

‘Um,’ Dorian managed eloquently. ‘Yeah, uh. Water would be lovely.’

Cullen was way ahead of him. ‘Here.’

Dorian took it and after a few steady gulps, he then assessed the state of the world he’d seen fit to perform a fucking _swan dive_ to escape from. Cullen had got him to his bed, somehow. Dorian tried not to think of how Cullen might have _carried_ him. His shoes were off, his sweatshirt removed, t-shirt left on and slightly rumpled.

‘Better?’ Cullen asked, practically vibrating out of his skin with tension. Dorian tried not to stare but where else would he turn his gaze?

‘Much. Look, I’m—’

‘If you apologise to me, I’m going to lose my cool.’

Dorian blinked, reeling somewhat. He had issues with the statement from start to finish. Firstly, he objected to Cullen being so hot. That was more of a _general_ complaint and he acknowledged that, your honour, but the complaint stood. Second, did Cullen have to _sound like that_? Did he really have to say it all low and husky and tight with an anger that Dorian just didn’t understand? Did he? Not really, which brought him nicely to the third objection which was _what the actual fuck_?

‘Pardon?’

Cullen rubbed his eyes, jaw ticking. ‘I’m the one who brought this into your place. Who brought… drama and anxiety and—’

‘I’m not anxious.’

‘Right.’

‘I have low blood sugar.’

Cullen sighed and lowered his hands. ‘Dorian.’

 _Objection the fourth_. Saying his name like that.

‘Dorian, I upset you.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘I did. I’m not saying it with the expectation of making you ashamed of what happened or making you regret it.’ Cullen fiddled, glaring at the floor for heinous, as-of-yet unknown crimes. ‘Though it’s clear that someone, at some point—look, just don’t apologise to me. You were really clear when I moved in about not liking music and I haven’t respected that at all.’

‘I _asked_.’

‘You did, but you don’t really _know_ what it is you’re asking and I…’ Cullen laughed then, a bittersweet bemused kind of thing. ‘I don’t know how to move forward without losing—without me having to move out.’

Dorian’s heart seized. ‘No, fuck that.’

‘I… have to agree,’ Cullen said and Dorian was sure he caught a baffling hint of self-loathing then, but it was gone before he could be sure. ‘But from now on I promise, no music talk, nothing. I swear.’

‘But you work in music,’ Dorian said weakly, picking at a loose thread from his duvet cover, determined to ruin it if he could. ‘That seems a bit impossible.’

Cullen nodded, expression filled with determination. ‘I promise you. Nothing in my life will touch you.’

‘Well, hopefully not _nothing_.’

Fucking nice one, Dorian. Really.

‘I just—I just mean that, ah. I just mean you can still touch me with the other parts of your— _nope_ , that’s not it.’

Cullen came to the rescue yet again. ‘Just music,’ he said a little softer.

‘Yeah,’ Dorian exhaled, relieved that Cullen didn’t seem to really _care_ that Dorian was a fucking wreck, that his cheeks were burning, that he couldn’t make anything come out _right_ without help. ‘I’m sorry.’

Cullen laughed then, a weirdly gentle thing in direct contrast to how tightly strung he was and Dorian just didn't get it.

‘I told you not to apologise.’

‘Is this you losing your cool, then?’

Pursed lips and a hint of a smile that made Dorian grateful he was already in bed sitting down. ‘No, it’s really not.’

‘Well, good because that would be an anti-climax.’

‘You’re all right now?’

‘I am.’ Dorian began to get out of bed to prove it and everything when Cullen placed a hand on his knee.

‘You stay here, I’ll make you a tea.’

‘No,’ Dorian blurted out. ‘I just. I’m tired, that’s all. I think I’ll sleep. It’s late. Made a good start with it anyway, didn’t I?’

Cullen eyed him warily. ‘I feel like you shouldn’t sleep after that.’

Dorian wanted to laugh and tell him that he wouldn’t be sleeping, not even a little bit but the man had done _enough_ for one night, he really had, and he deserved to go to bed and have a chance to shake it off the next day.

‘No, honestly, I’m fine. I’m just… really tired.’

When Cullen looked at him then, Dorian could tell he wasn’t convinced but he nodded evenly and got up, lifting the chair with one hand.

‘Night, then,’ he said.

Dorian watched him and the chair go. ‘Night.’

*

This.

 _This_ was why he shouldn’t have a roommate.

It was one of those things, like when Lana would grow her hair long, complain about it being dull, get it cut short and then spend the next six months crying about the loss of her long hair… a process left on repeat for nine years.

Dorian had _wanted_ someone there, had wanted the extra money too but it was more than that. His life had been an echoing, shallow thing for a while now. Months of being sat alone on weeknights, watching vapid TV and a dodgy porn streaming site, his interests steadily taking a worrying turn into _weird_ areas as he found himself becoming increasingly desensitised to things like _normal_ porn. Tentacles definitely shouldn’t be hot. Sometimes he was so bored, he read the comments beneath the video and bemoaned his life at its lowest ebb, to be wanking _while_ feeling jealous of a community of men who _commented on porn._

At least those comments were safe though. No one in the wanking world gave a flying fuck about music and if they did, it wasn’t exactly a high priority just then. No one knew Dorian’s name, no fucker cared.

So yeah, he’d been low. Too much free time. Time to wallow and wank and learn way too much about hoarders.

A roommate had been the perfect solution. Sera and Lana lived together, otherwise he would have asked one of them. Both had lived with him at one point or another, but they were happy together and he didn’t want to interrupt their harmony, even while mildly envying it.

So, the plan had been flawless.

Except.

See.

Dorian shouldn’t really _have_ a roommate because of times like this. Times when he wanted to get out of bed and go into the living room and watch mindless crap on the TV. He had his laptop, but his bed was too hot and he couldn’t get comfortable.

He’d told Cullen he would be sleeping and that was a _lie_ , but… but maybe _Cullen_ was asleep and the coast would be clear.

Dorian snuck out of his room like a guilty teenager, finding the loft quiet and dark, clean and tidy. He exhaled carefully, relieved. Aside from the soft ticking of his kitchen clock, everything was bathed in dark grey silence. He crept quietly out into it, feeling weirdly _excited_ to be alone for the first time in weeks at night. Maybe excited wasn’t the word. Maybe _alone_ wasn’t the word.

He didn’t turn on any of the lights, instead retrieving a can of coke from the fridge, opening it quietly and turning on the TV, settling into his corner.

It was nice, truth be told. Cullen was amazing, no denying it and Dorian loved spending time with him, more than he should.

But he was _tense_ around Cullen sometimes. Tense from keeping himself within his sphere, stopping that natural, terrifying instinct to _lean_ into Cullen, into the moment, into the urge. It was nice to just be Dorian Pavus, _Drinking a Coke at Midnight and Watching Channel Five._

Channel Five was showcasing a classic. _Speed._ Dorian didn’t bother browsing other channels, satisfied to settle in for a film he’d seen about thirty times before. He watched Keanu’s day get progressively worse, abstractly noting the varying levels of _Keanu Hotness_ based on the length of the actor’s hair, then felt bad for objectifying.

And see, Dorian didn’t exactly mean to get half hard but it _had_ been a _while_ and Keanu was especially hot in the flak jacket when underneath the bus (flak jackets were universally hot - fuck you Lana, with your _lace)_ and he was alone. Cullen was asleep, probably dreaming about music and how many times he’d had to clean up shattered liquid containers. Dorian was alone, he was an adult and he was all of a sudden _unreasonably_ horny.

‘Nope,’ he said softly, a stern expression in place as his dick made it’s opening statement of persuasion, namely that he would be able _to sleep_ if he jerked off again. That the shower earlier didn’t provide any relief beyond preventing death by heart attack after the whole _Body Glitter Incident_. ‘Not gonna happen.’

His dick begged to differ, getting fully hard just to spite him.

And _yeah_ , Keanu was hot. All variants of Keanu were hot. _I Am An FBI Agent. Bloody Wolves. Excellent! There is No Spoon_ and especially, _He Shot My Dog_.

Keanu was Keanu and Dorian was horny as fuck, nought to ninety in the last twenty seconds, determined to _stay above fifty_ no matter what. But.

 _But_.

He wasn’t _really_ thinking about lovely, pretty Keanu. He was looking at him, sure. He was hearing him, thick accent and low tones. But… he wasn’t really. Dorian was seeing someone _else_.

Cullen would look nice in a flak jacket. Holding a gun, wearing jackboots, calling Dorian _Sir_ as he asked if he was able to drive the bus. And Dorian would be fine, he really would. He could drive the bus and have Cullen’s back and the pair could mildly flirt in the heart of pulsating danger and all that snappy Joss Whedon dialogue. Cullen would crouch low beside him, maybe a little dirty from his exertions to get on the bus and Dorian’s job was to drive the bus, he was trusted, he was _precious_ to Cullen, he was—

Oh for _fuck_ _’s sake_.

He glared down at his dick through his sweats. At the sheer fucking _determination_ of it.

‘You’ve got balls,’ he told it, actually rather sad no one was around to hear that. ‘But _no_.’

Except he couldn’t unsee it now. Keanu was Cullen and Sandra was Dorian. Fucking _hell_. Dorian shifted, body suddenly _on fire_ with the need to take himself in hand, to glide that hand up and down and imagine Cullen assuring him that it was only cans he’d hit, that they could make the jump, that he could get the bomb off of his chest and then… when Dorian was handcuffed to the pole, Cullen refusing to leave him behind.

He pressed the heel of his palm down hard over the length, back teeth grinding together, eyes crossing for a moment because _fuck_ , he could actually see it. He could believe that Cullen wouldn’t leave him, believed it completely, Flak-jacket wearing, sweaty, strong good cop Cullen wouldn’t leave him, no way. He’d wrap Dorian in strong arms and protect him from the inevitable crash and then… _shit_ , then they would be in the street and Cullen would be on top of him, stroking his face, asking if he was all right, if he was safe and Dorian would cry because it had been a long fucking day and now there was a sexy, perfect, _flak jacketed_ man on top of him and then… _fuck fuck fuck_ , then they would be kissing.

 _Kissing in the street. Kissing in view of hundreds, maybe thousands. Cullen_ _’s mouth on his, body warm and safe, like a weighted blanket, hands in Dorian’s hair and he didn’t care if everyone saw, if they were being broadcast on BBC One. If Cullen rolled his hips against Dorian’s then he was_ lost _. Fuck it, they could literally have sex in the street for all he cared. Cullen muttered Dorian_ _’s name as they kissed, wedging himself in between Dorian’s legs as he said it over and over, as he—_

‘Dorian?’

Ah, so this was a heart attack.

His hand had never moved so fast. There one moment, _gone_ the next. It was lucky he was half slouching, laying so that the back of the sofa provided cover for what he’d been _sort of_ doing.

Cullen padded out into the living space, rubbing his eyes, sleepy and adorable. Dorian made a big show of sitting up, grabbing a crushed velvet cushion and cramming it over his lap.

‘Cullen!’ he half yelled. ‘Hey!’

Cullen blinked, smiling softly. ‘Hey, sorry. I was. I heard noises. Just wanted to check.’ He glanced at the fifty inch and Dorian had the mad urge to change the channel, as if he’d been caught watching porn or something, but it was only _Speed_. Only Keanu (who was now and forever ruined to remind Dorian of Cullen) and his very intense situation.

Which was very different to _Dorian_ _’s_ situation under the cushion.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ he asked, approaching the sofa because of course he was. Dorian’s luck was such that Cullen had probably formed a special attachment to that exact cushion, too. He probably wanted it, might lay his head on it, innocent and unknowing and… and maybe Dorian could stroke his hair.

Oh God.

‘Yeah, no. Couldn’t sleep. Could not sleep _at all_.’

Cullen climbed over the back of the sofa, plonking down heavily and sighing. ‘Ah, I _love_ this film!’ he said, suddenly brightening, suddenly _awake_ and Dorian groaned internally because his dick was _not_ obeying the cease and desist order. ‘Remember when Channel Five just used to play softcore porn at night?’

Dorian’s eyes widened so much he worried they might fall out of his fucking head.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Cullen laughed at his scandalised tone, relaxed and happy and weirdly _beautiful_ , just wearing a thin, faded _Cat Power_ t-shirt and something that Dorian generously designated as sleep shorts but were, in all likeliness, _boxers_.

‘After eleven, Channel Five would play these films,’ he explained to Dorian in his annoyingly _perfect_ voice, all velvety and roughened by the sleep Dorian had interrupted with his _Not-Wank._ _‘_ And they were basically just softcore porn, but with more plot. The first one I saw was…um,’ he paused, squinting with concentration. ‘Thirteen Erotic Ghosts! Yeah, that was it.’

So, somewhere along the line, Dorian had obviously _died_ and was now in hell. He hoped his body was still pretty enough for an open casket. He hoped Cullen cried. He hoped no one dared play any fucking _music_.

Hands laced protectively over the cushion and his raging hard-on, Dorian nodded, feigning detached interest, watching Keanu grieve for his lost friend while Sandra tried to offer comfort. Hand on his shoulders, flak jacket and all. Dorian would do a good job of that, of comforting Cullen’s helpless anger and grief and—

The whole film was ruined now. _Ruined._

‘Uh huh,’ Dorian said, teeth clenched so hard it was painful.

But Cullen was apparently warming to his theme now, getting more and more relaxed as Dorian tightened like a harpsichord string.

‘I think that might be the first time I ever _saw_ porn. God, it was so shit. I mean, all production values are low on porn like that, but the _story_ was just so ridiculous! There wasn’t even any connection to the original film!’

‘Hmm,’ Dorian agreed, scooping his legs underneath him, curling himself together tightly, protectively. His cock had decided that Cullen’s presence was nothing less than the world’s finest aphrodisiac and that it needed to stay ready for any potential action.

‘What was the first porn you ever watched?’

‘Um?’

‘Or was it just, like, a clip? Mostly they’re clips. It’s rare to watch a full one, isn’t it? From start to finish. Has anyone ever stuck around for the ending? Weird.’

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Yes, very.’

Cullen picked up on his strained tone that time. ‘You OK? Do you need anything?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ Dorian said, forcing a smile.

The attention was focused, like a fucking _laser_. Dorian shifted slightly, wincing when his dick took that for permission to throb.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. I’d ask for tea, but I’ve already had too much caffeine.’

‘Hot chocolate?’ Cullen offered, already up and halfway to the kitchen. ‘I’m having one, so it’s no problem.’

Dorian’s mouth was open in a little _O_ of astonishment because really, his life had taken on nightmarish proportions now. Stuck with a hard-on to rival a Viagra advert, his hunky, pretty blond roommate was now making him _hot fucking chocolate_ after discussing the finer points of softcore porn.

Sera and Lana would just about die laughing.

*

Of course the hot chocolate was sweet, melty heaven in a mug. Of _course_ there was squirty cream on top. Of course there were _motherfucking_ chocolate shavings on top of that.

Of course.

Because aside from being a promoter and doing fuck only knew what else on the side, Cullen’s mission in life was to sneak all kinds of food stuffs into the kitchen that Dorian had no idea even existed.

And _of course_ , Dorian had to let out a broken _moan_ when he took the first sip but really, it couldn’t be helped. It was _delicious_. Better than Costa’s, better than Starbucks. Better than a lot of _sex_ Dorian had had once, back in the days when, y’know, he still _had_ sex.

‘This is amazing.’

Cullen settled into the sofa. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

And Dorian got the sense that he meant it, that it wasn’t just a throwaway line to Cullen. That Cullen genuinely was _happy_ because he’d made something for Dorian and Dorian liked it.

So Dorian blamed the sugar rush when he said, ‘Why do you like taking care of me?’

Blamed the sugar and wanted to punch himself in the face.

But he didn’t rush to correct it. To stammer and embarrass himself because it was _accurate._ Cullen liked taking care of him, if only in the way of feeding and watering, of dragging his sorry, unconscious arse to bed and ensuring he didn’t drown in his own vomit.

Maybe he expected _Cullen_ to get embarrassed, to stammer. To awkwardly laugh and shake it off with banter about how Dorian needed someone to take care of him, fall down wreck that he was.

But no. Cullen just said, ‘I do like taking care of you. It makes me happy.’

‘Oh.’

Cullen wiped cream from the corner of his mouth, the corner with the scar from being _glassed_ in the face at sixteen. The scar that had apparently got him well and truly laid for the entire summer. ‘You think I have ulterior motives?’

‘No,’ Dorian said quickly, taking another sip for safety. ‘No, I just. Hmm. Not really used to being uh, taken. Care. Of,’ he finished lamely.

‘More’s the pity,’ Cullen said, a delicate balance of enforced neutrality and genuine feeling. ‘I miss Sophia,’ he added after a weird pause. ‘I mean, well obviously I miss her, she’s my daughter but, I miss her a lot tonight. It’s her birthday next month and I really hope Madeline will be reasonable and let me see her. I used to cook for her a lot, Sophia. We made banana pancakes when I was home sometimes, she would get so excited, jumping up and down. She used to call them _Captain America_ _’s_ because they were round like his shield. That’s much harder to say than pancakes, isn’t it? I…I miss her so much.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, forgetting all about the cushion and why it was necessary, crawling to Cullen’s side, putting his hand on a sad, strong shoulder. ‘Cullen, I’m sorry.’

And he _was_ because without warning, without any apparent preamble, Cullen’s eyes were too bright. They were reflecting explosions with too much clarity. When he blinked, two tears spilled down his face and Dorian’s heart felt like it was about to cave in, he was just _so sorry_.

Cullen put his hand over Dorian’s, gripping it there for a second before he let out a burst of an exhale, a shaky thing and he tried to smile.

‘God, I’m sorry.’

‘No, _no,_ it’s fine. Look, you’ve had all my crap to deal with for weeks now. I’m more than happy to deal with yours for once.’ It was awkward and clunky and _not_ what Dorian wanted to say, which was something along the lines of, _let me kiss it all better_ , but it made Cullen laugh, kind of.

Dorian would take _kind of_. Had settled for it most of his life.

‘You miss your daughter, that’s normal. It would be weird if you _weren_ _’t_ sat here missing her.’ His hand was moving ever so slightly, thumb rubbing over the bones of Cullen’s shoulder. It felt natural. ‘You’re going to see her, I really think you will.’

‘Leliana is…’ he paused to sniffle. ‘Trying to arrange something, but I know Madeline. Once she knows you want something, she’ll keep it away just to spite you. I just—’ His face crumpled, head falling into his free hand. ‘I just want her to have a nice birthday.’

Dorian’s heart was breaking for him. It was unbearable, seeing him this way. Cullen was sweet and kind and so, so wonderful and Dorian, who had always viewed children with a degree of wariness, found himself wanting to see Cullen with his little girl, picking her up, princess style, swinging her around and smiling, wanted to see Cullen _happy._

Strong shoulders shook a couple of times and the other hand slipped from Dorian’s to cover his face completely. Dorian was plastered to his side, unable to do anything but offer useless strokes, trying to give comfort. Hot chocolates abandoned on the table, credits rolling for _Speed_ , Dorian decided he could no longer stop himself.

He gently pulled Cullen out of his little ball of despair and moved him just enough so that they could hug. It was a nice hug. Warm and heavy. Dorian held him and let him be sad, let him miss his daughter and for once, Dorian was strong enough to hold himself upright _and_ someone else.

*

Upon being awoken to the dulcet sounds of someone swinging an apparent _battering ram_ into the front door, Dorian realised three things in rapid procession.

He and Cullen had fallen asleep on the sofa.

He and Cullen had fallen asleep on the sofa, while still tangled up in a very nice kind of hug.

He and Cullen had fallen asleep on the sofa, while still tangled up in a very nice kind of hug… and Dorian’s dick was _super_ happy about it.

Outside, the sun was almost fully risen, fresh morning light streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

‘ _Cullen?_ _’_ someone, a woman, was calling. ‘ _Cullen, you_ _’ve got ten seconds to open the door before Fenris breaks it down.’_

Cullen began to rouse, slow and leisurely, as if the woman, Leliana by the sounds of it, was a singing lark perched on his windowsill while the sun rose benignly, heralding dawn.

As if he _wasn_ _’t_ tangled up with Dorian on an IKEA sofa while his two friends yelled and banged like they were auditioning for _Stomp._

Cullen yawned and for a moment, he pulled Dorian close, nuzzling his cheek. Dorian was as stiff as an ironing board, almost as stiff as his fucking _dick_ which still hadn’t got the memo to _chill_ just yet.

It took Cullen a second to realise and that second stretched on forever for Dorian, caught in the physical knowledge of how it would be to wake up with Cullen, to be… _cherished_ like that.

‘Oh,’ Cullen said, drawing back quickly. ‘Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry.’

They stared at each other, close enough that their noses were almost touching, one of Cullen’s thighs jammed between Dorian’s which. Yeah. There was no way Cullen could miss that. No way.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

‘ _Right, break it down._ _’_ Cullen heard that. He shot up, flailing to be free of Dorian and almost crashing into the coffee table, jogging the two half-full mugs of once hot chocolate.

‘No!’ he called out, rushing for the door. It was the most graceless Dorian had ever seen him. He skidded barefoot, barely stopping before the huge, metal sliding door. ‘No, I’m here!’

He unlocked it quickly and Dorian wanted to flee, wanted to make a fucking run for it but there wasn’t time. Fenris was inside without waiting for anything resembling an explanation from Cullen. He threw a cursory nod in his direction, slanting an eyebrow in the general vicinity of Dorian’s crotch.

Cushion back in place, Dorian watched, jaw slack as the scene unfolded. Fenris went all through the loft while Cullen and Leliana spoke in what began as hushed tones but ended up progressing steadily louder and louder. There were people behind Leliana, people out in the hall because Cullen kept looking behind her and pointing, saying things like, ‘No!’ and, ‘Absolutely _not_!’

Only when Fenris returned, saying, ‘It’s clear,’ did Leliana budge. She glanced over her shoulder, apparently dismissing these people who Cullen was not permitting entry. Dorian heard a very stern male voice, saying that if she required him, they would be covertly assessing the perimeter.

And maybe Dorian was still dreaming, but he doubted it when Leliana entered the loft, wearing a suit with sharp enough edges to cut glass and threw him a withering glare.

‘Lee,’ Cullen began, closing the door behind her. ‘Please.’

Leliana - _Lee -_ had a moment where she just seemed to _despair,_ but in the most terrifying way Dorian had ever seen. It was like disappointing a great white shark.

‘You ignored our calls.’

‘Lee.’

‘You took _off_ the tracker.’

‘It hurts to sleep in it, Lee, let me—’

‘You didn’t answer when we used the emergency call and then,’ she said whirling around to face him, razor red bob following like a whip. ‘ _Then,_ as a last resort to remain within the ridiculous parameters of your _privacy_ , we used the HFG.’

Dorian frowned, wanting _badly_ to ask what the fuck an HFG was, but didn’t dare interrupt.

‘And what a surprise it was to find you nowhere _near_ your phone, nowhere _near_ your tracker and the only life sign _in_ this place was, in fact, an unintelligible _blob_ on the sofa!’

Cullen rubbed his face. ‘Let me _explain_.’

‘No!’ she shouted, hand slicing the air in the universal _No Fucking Way_ gesture. ‘Do you have any idea how worried we were? _Do you?_ _’_

He glared mildly. ‘I saw the security team, I get it.’

Fenris shook his head, arms crossed. ‘You can’t take the tracker off. We talked and you agreed.’

‘It’s uncomfortable to wear while—’

‘It’s to keep you _safe_ , you moron! It’s so we can keep track of you in case you need help! Taking it off is in direct contradiction to what you promised when we agreed to trial this out! Bad enough you _cancelling_ last night, single set or not, you can’t just—’

‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’

Cullen’s voice rent the air, shocked Dorian to his core.

In the silence that followed, Cullen sighed and said, much quieter, ‘That’s _enough._ I’m sorry you were worried. I won’t take it off from now on, but the strap needs to be extended or… not made of whatever it currently is.’

‘Heart-rate monitoring technology capable of also taking your temperature and detecting stress levels,’ Fenris filled in helpfully. ‘You _cancelled_. It was unlike you. Then we couldn’t get in touch. Then your tracker declared you dead or absent. Come on, man. This is not an overreaction.’

‘The booker for the O2 is furious,’ Leliana piled on. ‘And now they’re threatening breach of contract suits.’

‘It was one fucking _set,_ I already said I’ll do an additional three dates in October for _free_ , what more do they _want?_ _’_

 _‘_ They want promotional sessions _and_ they want three nights in Prague.’

‘What? That’s not proportionate, I’ve never missed a single—’

‘Yes, and if that were _still_ true, I would tell them to fuck royally off, but they have three slots to fill and they, like everyone else, want _you_. They’ll consider the matter settled if you agree.’

Cullen was considering it, whatever the fuck it was, Dorian could tell. He crossed his arms. ‘Single sets?’

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t like Prague.’

Fenris laughed. ‘No one _likes_ Prague. _Prague_ doesn’t like Prague.’

Cullen seemed mutinously determined to remain unhappy. ‘I have conditions.’

Leliana exhaled, clearly relieved. Dorian wished there was a translator somewhere so he might have had the _smallest_ fucking idea of what soap opera he was watching.

‘Fine,’ she said easily. ‘Whatever you want.’ Leliana then seemed to be waiting for Cullen to _state_ said mythical conditions, but he was quiet, suddenly awkward, stood there in t-shirt and boxers, part of his cheek still creased from laying on Dorian’s shoulder.

‘Ah, Dorian,’ he said, polite and weirdly formal. ‘Would you mind… giving us a minute?’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, eyes widening. He’d almost forgotten he was even _there_ , felt like a kind of ghost, witnessing things that normal people didn’t witness. ‘Yeah. Of course. I’ll just. Yeah.’

*

The shower was fast and he was actually getting used to his stupid cast enough that he didn’t drench it totally that time. Once he was clean and freshly dressed, he stuck his head around the bathroom door to find Cullen sat with Leliana and Fenris at the dining table, the three involved in low chatter, Leliana sighing every now and then.

Cullen, as if sensing Dorian’s presence by divine fucking intuition, looked over and smiled. ‘Dorian,’ he said, waving him over to join them. ‘I made you tea.’

‘And eggs,’ Fenris added.

‘ _And_ sausages,’ Leliana finished dryly.

‘Oh, thank you,’ Dorian said, staring at the plate of delicious things, steaming tea nearby all sat in front of the empty chair. ‘I can eat it… elsewhere, if you like.’

‘No, no,’ Cullen said earnestly, pulling the chair out for Dorian. ‘Please sit. I’d like to talk to you, if that’s OK?’

Oh fucking hell, what was this now?

Dorian sat, looking at each of them in turn. He wrapped his fingers around the warm mug of tea and waited, dread heavy in his gut.

Leliana started, sitting back while her emerald green fingernails rapped rhythmically over the surface of the table, equally vivid eyes pinning him in place.

‘One of Cullen’s _conditions_ ,’ she said, letting the word fairly drip with disdain. ‘Is that you come along too.’

Dorian blinked. ‘Come along… where?’

‘To Prague. Then to a couple of islands in the Med.’

‘Med?’

Green eyes narrowed. _‘_ The _Mediterranean_? Sardegna and Corsica. The whole thing will take a week, no longer.’ She sighed and pitched her eyes skyward. ‘Would you be _amenable_ to coming along?’

Dorian was going to be _so_ disappointed when he awoke to find this was all a dream.

‘Coming along for _what_?’

Cullen intervened smoothly. ‘I have business there,’ he said. ‘But, all in all, the things I’m going there to do, they don’t take very long. Two hours each day. I thought. Well, Prague is… not great unless you’re drunk but Sardegna and Corsica are really lovely places. We have a little villa in Corsica. You don’t have to, obviously.’

‘Yes, definitely _not_ obligatory,’ Leliana sniffed.

‘But,’ Cullen pressed with a small glare in her direction. ‘I would love it if you came. It could be fun.’

Dorian just about managed to echo the word, ‘Fun.’

‘Yeah. It’s on the sea, the Villa and it’s pretty remote.’ Cullen seemed to come over a little self-conscious then, brow creasing. ‘But you really don’t have to. You probably… actually, yeah, you’ve probably got way better things to do.’

Fenris, who had been occasionally glancing around, let slip a tiny snort of laughter, biting it down quickly. Dorian was still too stunned to feel indignant.

‘I uh. This is very… unexpected.’

‘Can you just decide, please?’ Leliana said, whipping her phone out. ‘I need to confirm the bookings.’

Dorian’s cheeks coloured. ‘I… don’t think I can afford to—’

‘No,’ Cullen said shaking his head. ‘My treat.’

‘Cullen, I—’

‘You’d be doing me a favour,’ Cullen said quickly. ‘A huge one. I don’t like these kinds of… where I didn’t choose the… I would just really love you to come with me.’

Dorian stared down at his perfect eggs, at beautifully fried sausages, stomach tightening unpleasantly. ‘You don’t expect me to uh… go to your work _thing_?’

‘Oh, of course not,’ Cullen said, suddenly very serious. ‘No. You can stay at the villa or the hotel, or… go and do whatever you want, literally anything. It’ll take a couple of hours in the evening and I’ll be back in time for dinner, like here.’

It was _mental._ Fucking madness. There was no way. Dorian _had_ a life, fuck you very much, Fenris. He had a life and he had… responsibilities. That cactus in the bathroom wasn’t going to… well, cacti were generally very hardy and they could live for ostensible _months_ without water, but still. His friends would… right well, _yes_ , they worked during the week and lived together but…

‘Yes,’ he said before he lost his nerve. ‘Yes, all right.’

Cullen’s entire demeanour just _glowed_. His smile was painfully beautiful. Leliana mildly groaned to see it, as if it confirmed something dreadful. Fenris looked between Dorian and Cullen with sharp, discerning eyes, but said nothing, gave nothing away.

‘Booked,’ she said with a single swipe. ‘Pack a bag, only barest necessities please. Whatever you need on the road, we’ll get. We leave in an hour.’

‘An _hour_?’

‘Unless you have a prior engagement?’

‘Well.’

‘Great. Pack and lock up. We’ll be outside. Fen, call off the team. I need a coffee.’

Dorian pointed at the kitchen. ‘I can make you a—’

‘A _real_ coffee,’ she huffed, sweeping past them, fingers patting Cullen’s shoulder for a brief moment as she went. She tossed Dorian a haughty glance. ‘Remember, pack _light._ _’_

*


	6. Underneath The Corset of Your Mystery (Piece By Piece Undress You From Your History)

It was a weird blur. Dorian only had a single, enormous carpet-style suitcase, a relic of Sera’s Mum that his friend had lent to him for their trip to Spain two years ago. Dorian didn’t know what to _pack_ , was almost trembling with excitement and _nerves_ to be going somewhere, fucking anywhere.

Cullen just told him to bring the basic necessities, implied that there would be clothes wherever they went, that they could shop or have things brought in. Cullen was apparently the kind of person who could _have things brought in_.

But Cullen was also the kind of person who turned Dorian’s untouched sausage and eggs into sandwiches for the road and microwaved his tea when it went cold. Dorian knew he never liked to waste food, likely a habit leftover from when he’d been younger and poorer, looking after his siblings.

It was a weird decision that Dorian sort of pretended not to even notice, taking the leather trousers. He told himself it was a joke, a funny thing they could laugh at and nothing more. In the end, Dorian opted for a backpack, stuffing the leather trousers into the bottom of it along with his sleep clothes, his favourite shirt and a few other bits.

Fenris was waiting for them around the back of the building, parked up in a black Lexus, the engine running. Leliana sat up front wearing sunglasses, deeply involved with her phone.

Dorian was gratified when she glanced up at him as they approached, nodding in approval at his apparent ability to pack light.

Rather unlike Cullen.

For all the man’s proclamations of having things brought in, Cullen had two suitcases, one guitar shaped, and one massive black thing with multiple locks.

When Leliana caught Dorian watching, Fenris and Cullen loading the back, she rolled her window down and said, ‘He’s _why_ I told you to pack light.’

Dorian nodded. ‘Ah.’

‘You don’t get travel sick, do you?’

‘Nope.’

‘Good. I don’t know if Cullen told you, but do _refrain_ from telling anyone where we are or, more importantly, where we’re _going_. All right?’

‘Oh, yeah, sure. Sure.’

‘Cullen says you have friends and I _understand_ ,’ she said, her tone lowering and tightening on the last word. ‘That this may seem… exciting to you, but please don’t tell them where you’re going beyond, _away for the week_. You may tell them you’re in Europe if you _must_.’

The boot slammed shut and Cullen took Dorian’s hand then, pulling him into the backseat. ‘Ready?’

*

Cullen had sunglasses on. It wasn't remotely sunny.

‘Did we just _skip_ the customs queue?’

‘Oh. Yeah, much easier and quicker this way. Lee knows people.’

Dorian looked around doubtfully. ‘ _Airport_ people? Well, what about the shops? I wanted to get a Toblerone for Sera and Lana.’

Cullen smiled as they headed towards a stand without a queue, unburdened by suitcases or baggage, though Dorian clung to his backpack.

‘They’ll have whatever you want in here,’ Fenris drawled as did seem to be his natural way. Drawling and constantly looking for danger, always watching Cullen and everyone who might _come near_ Cullen. It was a strange friendship, that was for certain.

‘Good morning, Sir,’ the attractive woman with perfectly applied lipstick greeted. ‘Tickets, please?’

Leliana held up her phone with what Dorian assumed was a scan code. It went off four times and the woman smiled, satisfied. She was staring a lot in Dorian and Cullen’s direction though and when they went through, Dorian was _sure_ he saw her nudge her friend, whispering furiously.

Dorian looked away quickly, calming his breathing. There was no way they recognised him. No way. It was ages ago. Over and done with.

*

The first class lounge did _not_ have Toblerones, but Leliana requested two large ones and someone went off to get them, much to Dorian’s embarrassment.

Fucking hell, how had he ever lived like this before? Well, in all fairness, he’d been a _child_ for most of his life in luxury. A spoilt rich-bitch brat who would have put Draco sodding Malfoy to shame, he was so arrogant and pampered. And then at the tender age of seventeen, his mother’s loss still fresh in his heart, along came the fucking Trevelyan twins mere weeks after his Dad had died. Swooped in and took it all. All but the loft.

He still remembered what it was like to have a velvet rope pulled aside, to be somebody who commanded the kind of respect that only _money_ could, to be luckier than the others and it was _fun_ , but it wasn’t what had his blood racing. It wasn’t even the ridiculous _novelty sized_ Toblerones the attendant brought him while he lounged and sipped champagne.

It was Cullen beside him, brow furrowed with intent as he filled page after page of words in one of his leather bound notebooks. It was Cullen refusing the champagne and asking for tea instead. It was Cullen looking up every now and then as if _plagued_ by some great, eternal struggle and then catching Dorian’s gaze, smiling warmly.

Yeah, it was the smile. Slow and genuine. Cullen was _happy_ Dorian was there. He was fucking happy about it.

And that. That was new.

*

Flying wasn’t new and Dorian was a pro. By the time he was seven, he’d flown over fifty times, at least ten of them alone. His mother would put him on the plane at Surabaya, he’d sit alone, sometimes up front with the captain, mostly with the stewardesses who always made a fuss of him, and then his father (or one of his father’s people more likely) would be waiting for him when he landed.

Cullen was… not a pro.

Oh, but bless his cotton socks, he was pale and he was _taut_ , sat up front in the very best _business class_ seats, gripping the arm rest, accidentally nudging a few buttons and lowering Dorian’s seat in to full recline, a little _roof_ thing starting to descend, like a cocoon.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, clearly panicky, fingertips shaking ever so slightly, trying to right the fact that Dorian was now essentially _in bed_ and they hadn’t even taken off yet.

Once Dorian was upright, Fenris sorted the buttons out while Leliana ordered a double gin and tonic.

‘Sir, you need to take your seat,’ a flight attendant informed Fenris with a stern smile. The blond gave Cullen a measuring kind of _look_ , like if Cullen said so, Fenris would actually refuse. Dorian wanted to say that Fenris could have _his_ pod/seat if he wanted, but Fenris was already gone because Cullen had nodded and now the plane was starting the slow crawl.

And Dorian, who was not even a little bit afraid to fly, decided to help.

He began to breathe faster, adopting an even more rigid and nervous disposition than Cullen. He balled his fists and he pressed his lips in a thin line.

‘Cullen,’ he whispered shakily. ‘I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this.’

The other man’s head whipped over to the left, leaning closer. ‘What?’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian said miserably. ‘I… I’m terrified of flying. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can. No, I need to just get a hold of myself. Fuck.’

He saw it happen, watched as Cullen swallowed down his own fear and reached for Dorian. ‘It’s OK,’ he said.

Dorian let him take his hand, shaking his head. ‘No, it’s too much. It’s too scary. What if we crash?’

‘That—that hardly ever happens.’

‘Oh God, what’s that noise?’

‘It’s just the engines, Dorian, look at me.’

Dorian did.

‘Everything is fine.’

He was still holding Dorian’s hand very tightly as the plane began to gather speed. ‘I’m so scared,’ Dorian outright lied, expression etched with misery. ‘I don’t think I can do this, I feel like I can’t—like I can’t _breathe_!’

Cullen leaned as far as he could from their individual seats, still restrained by his belt. Cullen was entirely focused on Dorian, completely and utterly.

‘Breathe with me,’ Cullen was saying. ‘That’s it. Just breathe with me.’

Dorian nodded, breathing like he was giving birth. ‘Distract me,’ he implored as the plain began to take off.

‘Uh, all right, um. I kept your purple body glitter.’

Dorian’s eyes flew open from where they’d been tightly shut, going for full effect, and he suddenly found it very hard to breathe for real. ‘Wh-what?’

Cullen squeezed his hand tighter as the plane climbed, engines screaming. ‘When I tidied your things away, I kept the pot of purple body glitter. I don’t know why and I’ll-I’ll replace it, but I wanted to keep it.’

Dorian’s ears popped, levelling out, heart racing.

‘Why did you take it?’

Cullen exhaled slow, Dorian’s hand still in his and he shrugged. ‘I liked how it made me feel.’

*

Who the fuck even said things like that, really?

Cullen _fucking_ Rutherford, apparently.

Dorian’s _panic_ abated quickly after that and Cullen seemed level enough not to need to be the hero anymore. It was a short haul flight, barely two hours.

When they landed, Leliana and Cullen got the bags. Fenris stood beside Dorian.

‘You’re not afraid of flying,’ the shorter man stated. 

‘Hmm,’ Dorian said, checking his phone, relieved (and mildly embarrassed) to see he only had three messages, all from Sera.

‘You did it to calm him down,’ Fenris observed with something like clinical interest. ‘You knew he’d step up to the plate for you. It was smart. Manipulative too, viewed from a certain angle.’

Dorian looked up, lips parting to argue, but Cullen was coming back now so he crushed down the hot twist of guilty anger that time.

‘So,’ Cullen exhaled brightly. ‘Lunch?’

*

Leliana and Fenris did not seem especially pleased to be in Prague but Dorian had never been there, so for him it was new and therefore fascinating.

‘Ooh, it’s all very _dark_!’ he commented cheerfully from the limo that had been waiting.

Cullen looked up from his notebook. ‘That’s what I always think. Walking around here at twilight is… kind of terrifying. There’s an ancient, _old_ darkness to everything, even the houses.’ He shuddered, but grinned.

‘Where to for lunch?’ Fenris asked Leliana.

She looked up from her phone. _‘Portfolio_ , maybe.’

Fenris wrinkled his nose. ‘Can’t we go to _Johnny Pizza_?’

‘You’re a cretin.’

‘It’s exceptional pizza.’

‘It’s _pizza_. How fucking exceptional can it _get?_ _’_

_*_

_‘_ This is _exceptional_ pizza,’ Dorian commented after his fourth slice. Fenris gave him something that might have been an _Eye-Smile_. Leliana shook her head, poking at her salad while Cullen nicked a slice of Dorian’s _premavera._

‘It really is,’ Cullen agreed, just slightly rubbing it in for Leliana’s sake.

Dorian reached for a napkin to clean his hands, which had salty, greasy crumbs, the very best kind. ‘What’s next? Check in at a hotel, or…?’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said. ‘Check in, shower, relax or whatever, then we can go for a walk. If you want to, obviously.’

‘Haven’t you already seen much of Prague?’

‘Well, yeah,’ he said, leaning back, smile never faltering. ‘But not with you.’

*

The Four Seasons welcomed Cullen with a smile and a, ‘ _Good afternoon Mr Rutherford._ _’_ To be honest, Dorian sort of hadn’t really been _expecting_ to have his own room. When they got to one of the top floors (of course) and Leliana handed Dorian a separate room key, he blinked down at it for a moment.

‘Oh. Right.’

She looked at him straight to centre, weighed him fully and found him _oh so_ wanting.

‘We’ll be above, in the master suite,’ she said and Cullen looked back, frowning like this was the first he’d heard of it.

‘What? No. _Why_?’

Fenris watched the whole thing play out as if he’d been timing a well-placed bet that was now bearing fruit.

‘Cullen. There is only _one_ suite in the hotel, we’ve—’

‘Then Dorian should have it.’

 _Oh God._ ‘No, no. It’s fine,’ Dorian said, already mortified from allowing his _Little Boy Lost_ expression to spring forth. Fucking Christ, was there a _pill_ for what was wrong with him?

‘Cullen.’

‘Leliana.’

Fenris stepped in. ‘The Mandarin has four main suites, two of which are presidential. I can restructure security in time for us to move there by tomorrow night.’

Cullen shot Fenris a look and Dorian thought, rather _wildly_ , that Cullen seemed to be on the verge of arguing that they move right there and then, that very moment but Fenris was stony and Cullen relented with a sigh.

‘All right, thanks,’ he said, looking back at Dorian. ‘Is that OK? I’m sorry about… tonight.’

‘Look, I really _don_ _’t_ mind at all. We can stay in the worst hotel in Prague if you like, believe me, I’ve stayed in worse in Spain. I’m just happy to be here. Please don’t put yourself out for me.’

‘We should be on the same floor,’ Cullen said simply and Dorian had just the _tiniest_ , weeniest suspicion he knew _why_ but did not dare voice that, even to himself.

Leliana was not happy. ‘Cullen, the Mandarin isn’t—’

‘I _think_ ,’ Fenris cut in, examining his fingernails under the soft hallway lighting gifted by the _Four_ fucking _Seasons_. ‘That the Mandarin double suites have adjoining rooms, no?’

That settled it. ‘Perfect,’ Cullen said briskly. ‘Thanks, Fen.’

And while Dorian was confident that Fenris was semi-smiling when they parted ways, leaving Dorian alone on his floor beneath, Leliana was really _not_.

*

Dorian had barely anything to unpack. He showered (oh, it was a nice shower) used all the _free_ shampoos and creams and then he ate the _free_ biscuits while dipping them in his _free_ tea. Sometimes being poor made the little things just that much shinier.

It was somewhere around three when Cullen knocked on his door, was stood there nervously, hair slightly damp and smelling of the same free soaps and shampoos as Dorian.

‘Hey,’ he greeted half leaning on the door frame. ‘How’s it going? I just wanted to see if you fancied going for that walk?’

Dorian opened his mouth to answer, but from directly above, he heard a rather stunning amount of hustle and bustle. It sounded like there was a circus. An angry, impatient, very organised circus.

Cullen saw Dorian looking and rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, it’s madness up there. I ran away.’

Dorian broke out into a grin. ‘You what?’

Cullen took him by the hand. ‘C’mon, quick, before they find us!’

Dorian barely had time to grab his shoes and key-card before he was snatched from the room, laughing as he went.

*

‘This place is weird.’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen agreed as they walked along the riverside. It was chilly, chilly enough that Dorian had shivered and Cullen had _of course_ dropped his jacket over Dorian’s shoulders like he was a prom date and Cullen the big, strong jock.

Which didn’t mean Dorian hadn’t put his arms through, revelling in the warmth and the beautiful scent of that leather jacket, no it did not.

‘We’re not going to Old Town?’

‘Y’see, Prague is small. Best not to do everything in one day. I mean, we could. We can do whatever you want. I’m so grateful you’re here. I hate doing venues… well, working places that I didn’t choose myself. I actually came to Prague in January, those were times _I_ organised it so it wasn’t so bad.’

Dorian watched him as he spoke. He wondered at the reason that had him on edge. All right, sure. No one liked being called into work on days you weren’t planning it. Dorian knew all about that. Oh, many a lovely Sunday had been ruined by his previous boss’s name flashing up on his phone at 7:11am. This didn’t seem… entirely the same though.

But Cullen’s whole demeanour brightened suddenly and he smiled at Dorian like he was afraid of somehow spoiling the mood. The mood of walking along a pretty river in a weird place while wearing a gorgeous man’s jacket.

‘You really don’t have to do this thing with the hotel,’ Dorian said firmly. ‘I like it there, it’s fine. I was… it was stupid, I just got used to the idea of having you only a room away.’

_Oh, nice one. No, really, Dorian. That_ _’s great. Just great._

‘Well, nearby. On the same floor is what I. What I meant. It’s completely fine.’

‘No, it’s not. For exactly the reason you said. Anyway, you’re too late,’ he added with a wry little smirk. ‘Fenris already changed it.’

‘But Leliana will hate me,’ Dorian groaned.

‘No she won’t, I booked her a spa day in the Mandarin and promised to take her to Portfolio for lunch before we leave.’ Cullen’s expression softened. ‘I know she seems scary sometimes, but she’s… she’s absolutely amazing, really. She makes this,’ he gestured vaguely. ‘All possible, makes my whole life easier. I wouldn’t be able to do it without her.’

Now, see.

It just didn’t seem right anymore. Dorian knew precisely sweet fuck all about promoters beyond the ones he’d met while touring with Fully Charged, but he didn’t think they had an entourage like this. Some things just didn’t… fit.

But.

He wasn’t going to press it. Because that way lay bad, awful musicky shit and he was not - repeat not - going to _faint_ again.

No, sir-ee Bob.

‘Maybe I’ll get her flowers,’ Dorian mused. ‘Flowers or a vibrator.’

Cullen burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a few others as they sojourned along the river a small distance away. It was a lovely, loud thing, his laugh. All surprise and genuine mirth.

He didn’t say anything, just let the laughter die down naturally, but Dorian’s smile felt permanent, a fixed thing. What was _happening_ , seriously?

‘Can I take your picture?’ he asked when they came to one of the bridges spanning the width of the vast, incredible body of water.

Cullen looked over. ‘Hmm?’

Dorian had his phone out already. ‘I just. No, never mind.’

‘You want to take my picture?’

It felt awkward, jarringly so after the previously easy interactions but the sky was alight with streaks of burnt gold and freshest blue and the river was making a pretty mess of those colours, like a well-used palette and Cullen was even more beautiful than all that, even in sunglasses.

‘Don’t worry, it was just because the river looks so—’

‘OK.’

‘Oh, really?’

Cullen cleared his throat in a way that didn’t really clear anything; a single sound, a kind of _pause_ to buy time while he looked down, toeing the ground before nodding and it was impossible, despite his misdirection, to miss the slight blush forming at the very edge of his cheeks.

‘Yeah, if you want to.’

‘I do. Want to. If you’re OK with that? I mean, at least you’re not covered in body glitter this time, right?’

Cullen laughed again, but it couldn’t have been any more different than before. This was a nervous thing, something tight and perfunctory. If Dorian’s instincts were any less sharp, he would have called the whole thing off, would have pretended his battery was too low and moved on.

But something inside him spoke confidently that Cullen _wanted_ it. That the blush wasn’t nerves, not only nerves at least. Dorian watched as Cullen bit his bottom lip, eyes averted and used the moment to strengthen himself.

‘Yeah, exactly,’ he said, looking up. He still had sunglasses on and if he wanted to leave them on, that was fine. Who the fuck was Dorian to say otherwise? ‘Where do you, um. Where do you want me?’

‘By the railing,’ Dorian said, because he could see the whole thing in his mind’s eye, the composition, the layout. The light. Cullen. He could see _that_ very clearly. ‘Just kind of lean on the railing, both hands on the metal. That’s great, yeah.’

‘Like—like this?’

‘Yeah. Just relax.’

Cullen nodded, throat bobbing slightly. ‘Yeah, OK.’ He did not, however, seem to relax. And Dorian wanted him to be relaxed, for the _picture_ , obviously.

Keeping Cullen in frame, finger hovering over the shutter, Dorian said, ‘Did I tell you about the time I walked in on my cousin and his friend masturbating?’

After a non-plussed beat, Cullen half smiled. ‘Uh, no?’

‘So, back in the days of plenty, my cousin and his friend came to visit us with my Aunt. I was away for most of the day, didn’t see them till I got back and when I went upstairs,’ he said, manually framing the shot, adjusting the focus and brightness. ‘I went back to my room, opened the door and walked in to find my cousin in a chair, his friend on the bed, some cheap arse porno playing on _my_ TV and they’re both furiously wanking! I’m standing there, gob-smacked and my cousin,’ Dorian laughed, shaking his head. ‘He just screams at me to get out! Of my own room! He didn’t even stop! Him and his friend, on opposite sides of my room, wanking in tandem!’

Cullen was laughing, a slow kind of chuckle and Dorian took pictures, clicked the shutter over and over, capturing all of it.

‘What did you do?’

‘I left, what else could I do? He was just so _angry!_ Like I’d wronged him terribly by trying to go into my _own bloody room_! And then later, he acts like nothing happened, him and his weaselly little friend.’

Dorian kept telling the rest of the story, leading effortlessly into the next, making Cullen relax, making him _emote_ and positively come alive under the lens. If Dorian gave him any little instructions, they were lightly interspersed with whatever stories he was still telling.

And Cullen did it all, whatever Dorian asked of him. He was so beautiful it _hurt_.

Dorian could have kept going, could have taken his picture forever, but around the three hundred mark, his phone had had enough, warning that his storage was too low. He scowled at it, betrayed immensely.

‘That’ll have to do,’ he said and Cullen nodded, pushing away from the railing. ‘Do you want to see? They’re good.’

‘Oh, no that’s OK, thanks. I’m sure if you took them, they’re amazing. I hate seeing pictures of myself.’ He shuddered for effect and then smiled brightly. ‘Come on, let’s get something to drink.’

*

‘So, you’ve never been, like, _drunk_ drunk? Pissed drunk?’

Cullen checked his phone with practised apathy, stowing it away quickly after glancing at the screen. ‘Hmm? Oh, I mean I drink wine now and then, a glass or two but usually, no. With you the other day, that’s the closest I’ve come for ages. I don’t normally like it.’

Dorian stirred his tea, sat in a quaint little riverside cafe. ‘Why not?’

Cullen shrugged, purposefully detached. ‘It’s not my thing.’

‘What _is_ your thing?’

‘What’s _yours_?’

Dorian allowed it, good mood glowing from the very centre of his being, making him generous and patient. ‘Huh, OK. You know, I don’t think I really _have_ that one single thing. Like, I know your thing is music and that’s fine,’ he assured Cullen quickly before any reddening of cheeks could take place. ‘That’s brilliant. You’re gifted and you _like_ your gift, but I… I don’t know. I used to write sometimes when I was younger. I painted occasionally. Poetry, dancing, sometimes even dabbling with the idea of screenwriting but it just never _took_. I’m always on the lookout, though. Always waiting for something to find me and never let me go.’

Cullen sipped his tea from the pretty green cup, looking out at the river. ‘I’m sure it will.’

‘I hope so.’

‘What about photography?’

‘I’m… I don’t know yet. I haven’t been doing it long enough to—’ Dorian huffed a laugh, a very self-deprecating one. ‘I don’t even have a proper camera.’

‘Well,’ Cullen said, tilting his head and for a moment, Dorian thought he was going to offer to buy him one. ‘Most phones have incredible cameras built in. I feel that cameras are a dying breed.’

Dorian laughed. ‘They’re _not_. Honestly, the difference is palpable. I do like it though, photography. Capturing a moment, framing it, holding it steady and grasping it. Knowing it.’

He thought of pink mood lighting and he thought of body glitter. Gold and purple, eyes on his, all that focus, all that _willingness_. Waiting to be shaped, to be moulded.

To be praised.

‘Yeah, so anyway. Photography might be my thing. We’ll see.’

‘I bet you’re really good at it. Take some other pictures and show me.’

 _Pictures not of me,_ Dorian heard and grinned wryly.

‘Maybe. This is a pretty interesting place.’

‘Tomorrow we’ll see Old Town. Maybe go to the Black Castle if you like.’

‘Sounds good.’

Something buzzed on Cullen’s wrist. The tracker, Dorian realised.

Cullen sighed and tapped the screen before pulling out his phone and answering it. ‘I said I was fine. No, there’s no need. No. Yeah, I got it. Coming now. OK. See you in a minute.’

‘Leliana?’

He seemed mildly abashed. ‘No, Fenris. I may have told them I would be back in five minutes. Fenris used the tracker to find me and send through an emergency call.’

‘Why do they do that?’ Dorian asked after sipping more tea. ‘Track you like this?’

Cullen stared down. ‘They’re very protective.’

‘Well, obviously. And I’m glad for it, though it _does_ seem a little bit smothering.’

‘It’s hard to explain.’

The invisible line reared high, red flags at each end and Dorian knew enough to see that Cullen didn't want to talk about it anymore. He could have pressed, could have requested more and Cullen probably would have told him.

But he didn’t. He let it go.

‘It must be hard to adjust to,’ was what he said, as bland as he could.

‘Yeah, but it’s. Well. It’s just how it is. Fenris will be here in a minute to pick us up. He was nearby anyway.’

When they rose from the small metal chairs, Cullen leaving money under an empty cup on the table, two teenage girls came hurrying over, wide eyed and clutching what seemed to be the cafe’s order pad with a red felt pen.

‘Sorry for disturb,’ one girl said, accent thick and heavy, fixed on Cullen like he was Jesus Christ twice risen. ‘Sorry, but could we…? I’m Adrianna and this is Balbina.’

And Dorian, who had (once upon a time) had a fair bit of experience with people pestering him for his number, blurted out, ‘He’s with me, darling.’

Cullen and the two girls looked at him, Cullen’s eyes as wide as saucers, but not because he was wonder-struck. The kind of wide-eyed gaze from someone who questioned what they’d just heard.

‘No, it’s—it’s fine,’ he said, scribbling something messy on the pad that Dorian couldn’t make out. He hoped it was a fake number. The man’s phone was busy enough as it was. ‘Thanks.’

He handed them the pad and the pen, sunglasses back on very quickly. His smile was forced and tight. Dorian felt ridiculously protective.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, reaching for Cullen’s hand, giving the girls a _Get Away He_ _’s Mine_ kind of glare even though it wasn’t true. So very untrue. But he’d played this role a _million_ times for Lana and even for Sera with men who genuinely posed a risk, it didn’t mean anything. Cullen was his friend and this was what friends did.

Cullen let him hold it, walked out together and Dorian rolled his eyes when he looked back and saw them taking pictures. Good God, and people told _him_ to get a life? What, had they never seen anyone queer before?

Around the corner Dorian let go quickly, dropping the ruse and flexed his hand a few times, encouraging circulation back into it because yeah, even _hand holding_ had sent his blood very much _south_.

‘Well, that was fun.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said quickly. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

‘Because you’re so beautiful that people are literally drawn to you?’

Jesus. Was there _absinthe_ in that tea, or what?

And the explosion of red from Cullen’s neck up was not hidden by his hand, no matter how hard he tried. ‘Thanks for trying to… uh. Help.’

Fenris was parked at the end of the narrow one way street. He watched them approach evenly, neutrally. Cullen held the back door open for Dorian but got in the front himself.

‘Hey,’ he greeted his friend. ‘Thanks.’

‘At least you answered this time,’ Fenris said, driving while Dorian put his seatbelt on, oddly bereft in the backseat alone.

‘Is she mad?’

‘Lee? _Nah_.’

*

‘I don’t really know how to say this without screaming at you and possibly punching you in the face but I had six years of therapy and counselling, most of it cognitive, so here we go. Please stop ignoring me when I call you. I recognise that you want some measure of freedom and I respect your… _wish_ for such a thing but there is also a world and a paradigm in which you agreed, nay, _opted_ to operate in and when you wander off—’

 _‘_ Without telling us,’ Fenris added severely.

‘—And then don’t come back, you throw that paradigm into chaos and I _hate chaos,_ Cullen. You know I do. So please. _Please_. Stop running away like some love-stru—’

Fenris cleared his throat and she rolled her eyes, mouth closing.

‘Like a _teenager._ I haven’t seen this kind of behaviour from you in years and it’s deeply _worrying_ ,’ she said, throwing a dark and deadly glare at Dorian, clearly blaming him for all the woe in the world.

She seemed to be finished. Fenris nudged her.

‘ _And_ ,’ she went on when prompted, this part sounding far more practised, repeated by wrote. ‘I recognise that sometimes you need free time and spontaneity. I will try to take this into account when I want to punch you in the face.’

Dorian had watched the whole thing while sat on a king sized bed, the most _incredible_ view of the river to his left, the three mental people on his right. The suite was _stupidly_ big, honestly. Dorian felt terrible for having been the reason that they were leaving the next day. It was luxurious and very tasteful, the kind of place he could tell Leliana loved.

‘I appreciate that,’ Cullen said. ‘And I’m sorry. I know you’re just doing what you need to. I’m really sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said and just like that, all the tension vanished. ‘Now, I’m sending people out for clothes. Josie’s been delayed, but I’m hoping it won’t be much longer. Cullen, you want the usual?’ He nodded mutely. ‘Good. Dorian?’

‘Huh?’

‘What kind of clothes would you like? Anything else you need?’

He blinked slowly. So, this was the _bringing things in_ portion of the trip. ‘Like what?’

‘Well,’ Fenris drawled, tapping his chin thoughtfully. ‘Clothes _tend_ to be material coverings, made to protect from the cold and to preserve dignity.’

Cullen whacked his shoulder as he passed, but he was grinning.

‘I know what clothes are, _smart arse_!’

Leliana gave him a brief up and down that made plain her doubt in such a statement. ‘If you have no preference, I’ll just get a standard selection in your sizes and you can choose from that.’

‘I mean, _or_ we could go shopping?’

Leliana actually laughed and Cullen, who nabbed a biscuit from the weird letter writing table thingy that all hotels came equipped with, chuckled.

‘I detest shopping,’ Fenris stated grimly. ‘I loathe it wholeheartedly.’

‘Really?’ Leliana quipped. ‘I’d no clue! Did you know that, Cullen?’

‘What, _you?_ Fen, you’re telling us that _you_ hate shopping?’

‘Yeah and while I’m at it, I invite you _both_ to go fuck yourselves, how’s that? Come on, Dorian,’ Fenris added haughtily. ‘Come check the perimeter with me.’

Cullen’s smile vanished. ‘No, wait—’

‘If you’d _like_ to,’ Fenris amended in a softer way, green eyes steady on Dorian.

They were all silent, all waiting.

‘Uh,’ Dorian said, sliding off the bed. ‘Sure.’

Cullen didn’t look especially thrilled and Leliana was already bored, reunited with her phone, intense frown in place.

‘Great. We’re back in ten.’

*

‘So,’ Dorian said, quite cheerfully, when they made it to the rooftop of the Four Seasons, the air turning sharply cold as the sun set. ‘You’re gonna throw me over the side and say I fell?’

Fenris inclined his head like he was considering it. ‘That’s very messy and obvious. Powdered glass is the best way. In soup, you don’t chew so you don’t feel it. It goes into your stomach, your stomach then rips itself apart trying to digest the glass and you die of internal bleeding, the glass obviously not showing up in an autopsy.’

Dorian’s mouth fell open and he wrapped his arms around himself. ‘Well, that’s lovely and terrifying, isn’t it? Did you bring me up here to make me shit myself, because I do _actually_ only have the one pair of jeans, currently.’

Fenris peered over the edge, tapping his ear very lightly every now and then and speaking. There was a slight wind and, as such, Dorian didn’t catch what was being said but he’d seen movies. He knew who Fenris was talking to.

‘Why does Cullen have a security team?’

Fenris looked back. ‘There are things I’ve been instructed not to tell you. Specific areas which are designated as _sensitive_ for you. I respect that. I am, however, able to answer your question without infringing upon those parameters.’ He took a breath, expression flat. ‘Cullen has had many a run in with dangerous people in his line of work. Last year, he drew the attention of someone we have still not identified. Someone dangerous and determined enough to break into his home, to very accurately locate Cullen, despite all our efforts to the contrary.’

‘Oh my God. Like a… like a fucking _stalker_?’

‘Yes, exactly like a stalker. This person, who I believe to be a man based on the profile we’ve been building over the last year, is not just someone who’s obsessed with him, who _likes_ him too much. This is a dark, driven purpose and this person, this _man_ , means Cullen great harm. A few weeks before he came to live with you, there was a very close call where this man managed to break into Cullen’s townhouse. He…’ Fenris shook his head, jaw tight. ‘He tried to hurt him.’

Dorian’s hands were over his mouth, sickness building coldly in the lower regions of his stomach. ‘Fucking hell.’

‘We relocated Madeline and Sophia at his request and upgraded security at the townhouse making it a veritable fort Knox. Cullen, however, insisted he didn’t want to live there, that he wanted to be elsewhere, lay low, find a roommate. You can imagine how much Lee liked that. It is an _incredible_ risk, him living with you, but he hadn't been happy for a while and so I backed him up. We vetted you, _I_ vetted you very thoroughly and while you yourself are not a threat, you are an unknowable variable. So. I would like to offer you the opportunity _not_ to be a variable. To be a stabilising force in his life and ours. To work with us.’

The wind was so cold it made Dorian’s eyes water. ‘Come again?’

‘I do not believe your intentions towards him to be anything other than benign, in principal at least. There are elements which I am not allowed to involve you in and, however ill-fated that plan may be, Cullen is my best friend and I am his protector. I defer to what he would like so long as it poses no tangible risk to his life.’

‘No, really. Come again?’

Fenris sighed. ‘He likes you. A lot. More than I think you realise. Instead of trying to get you out of his life, I’m inviting you into it. In the capacity for which you are permitted, obviously. Cullen says you hate music. You don’t want to hear it, don’t want to know about it.’ He paused, looking over the side of the building again. ‘I vetted you. I know why. What I’m saying is, if you’re going to be a part of his life, I’m happy for that to proceed. To involve you in it, limited to the non-music parts.’

‘I don’t care about him promoting bands or… or singers, or _whatever_ the fuck,’ Dorian said irritably because it really was freezing now and the subject matter set his teeth on edge. ‘He’s my friend.’

Fenris seemed a little baffled. ‘Which is what I just said.’

‘Did you? Sorry, I was a little busy freezing to death and being drowned in spy-speak!’

At that, Fenris actually _laughed._ It was a nice thing; deep just like his voice, rich and kind.

‘I see why he likes you,’ he admitted, pulling something from his jacket. It was narrow and black, like a watch. ‘Here. This is for you.’

Dorian eyed it warily. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a tracker. The same as Cullen’s.’

‘Ah, no thanks.’

Fenris stepped forward as if he hadn’t heard Dorian. ‘It’s very easy to use. If there’s an emergency and you need to check your phone, it’ll vibrate.’

‘I really don’t—’

Except he was putting it _on_ Dorian’s wrist now, gentle and careful. ‘And if you or _anyone else_ with you has an emergency, just press your thumb to the screen for three seconds and then tap again to confirm.’

‘This isn’t necessary.’

Fenris looked up, a full head shorter than Dorian as he was. ‘May I?’ he asked before closing the clasp.

Dorian sighed. ‘Oh, I _suppose_ so.’

‘Very good. Now press your thumb to the screen.’

It was very small, the screen. No wider than the strap itself which was soft and not overly tight. Dorian did as he was bade, pressed for a few seconds. The device was silent but when he pressed and held, it vibrated lightly.

‘It’s now set to your biometrics,’ Fenris announced. ‘I appreciate this.’

Dorian rubbed his fingers over it and under it, frowning slightly. ‘I can’t help but feel I’ve been used as a tracking device myself.’

Fenris was unswayed. ‘We use the tools we have.’

‘Did you just call me a tool?’

But he was already on his way back to the rooftop door and Dorian, who really _didn_ _’t_ want to become an icicle, followed.

*

The clothes Leliana had brought in were beautiful. They were rolled in on racks, great selections of things on hangers with the price tags all removed, but Dorian had been rich once and he knew the difference between Prada and Primark.

In the clothes, Cullen was utterly disinterested except in helping Dorian choose. Leliana went through the racks, picking out things for Cullen while the blond stayed near Dorian, sliding each hanger to the side of his rack.

‘Those are nice,’ he pointed out to Dorian. ‘You’d suit those.’

They were jeans, a very nice dark faded blue pair and probably cost more than the rent Dorian was currently charging Cullen.

‘Hmm,’ Dorian agreed. ‘They are.’

‘Or what about this? This is lovely, you should try this on.’

‘Maybe _you_ could try some things on?’ Leliana called out, three racks away. ‘Or at least choose something.’

Which was how it happened. Dorian was certain he could trace it back to his well-intentioned offer to help Cullen choose a few things to wear, thus potentially getting on Leliana’s good side.

That was how it had started, yes.

And see, the suite was _huge_. So when Dorian began rifling through the racks, pointing out in turn what he thought would suit Cullen, he didn’t really notice that Leliana and Fenris weren’t nearby, that he and Cullen were sort of _hidden_ in the racks.

‘Yeah, that’s nice, but this one,’ Dorian said, placing the faded grey, distressed t-shirt against Cullen’s chest. ‘This one really brings out your eyes. Grey and gold are always a gorgeous combo.’

And yes, _all right_ , maybe Dorian knew what he was doing. A little bit. A very little bit, but _come on_. He’d have to be a fucking saint not to tell Cullen that with his upper arms, white would make him look like Adonis come to life or that his hair was so pretty he should forgo trying to tame it, just let those natural curls fall where they liked. He’d have to be a robot not to point out what colours accentuated his natural beauty and which ones would make him irresistible.

Dorian was _not_ a fucking saint. He was also not a robot. He was pretty sure robots didn’t sweat like this, didn’t feel their hearts packed with wool in their chests. Didn’t lean unconsciously into the man standing just a _tiny_ bit too close.

The effect was tangible. Was genuinely palpable. Cullen had a praise kink, he had it _bad_ and Dorian really knew he should stop but a part of him argued resentfully against it because he _wanted_ to praise Cullen. Argued that the other man deserved it. What was the point in pretending he _wasn_ _’t_ painfully, agonisingly gorgeous? That Dorian didn’t find him breath-taking.

In retrospect, having Cullen try things on was probably… not the best idea.

Dorian would pick an outfit and then he would sort of _half_ turn, pretending to be thoroughly disinterested, pretending like he couldn’t smell Cullen’s skin this way, the scent of his fucking _body_ just like with the glitter. Cullen would change and then Dorian would look back and it was just _escalating._

_You look perfect._

_You_ _’re beautiful._

_Gorgeous._

And Cullen’s cheeks would flush, his breath would catch and there would come that shaky little smile, slowly losing the ability to keep himself together.

It was escalating and Dorian couldn’t stop it.

‘I like this one,’ Cullen said and Dorian turned. Black jeans, dark grey t-shirt, a kind of material rarely seen for such an item. Something like cotton and silk and thin enough that Dorian could make out the curves and dips of his chest beneath it. The shirt was undeniably unusual, but the material was just perfect, so beautiful and when Dorian put his hand over it, right on Cullen’s _chest_ , he felt the hammering rhythm there, felt how _hot_ Cullen was and he was just lost to it.

‘Yeah,’ he managed, throat suddenly dry. ‘I… that’s the one. Whatever you’re doing tonight, wear that.’

It hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. And if he’d have said that to Sera or Lana they would have laughed, would have batted their eyelashes and made lewd comments about what else he’d be _doing_ that night.

‘All right.’

Oh, fuck.

‘Good. That’s good.’

Fucking _stop_.

‘You like it, then?’

‘I like it.’

His hand was still there. It was still fucking _there_. Pressed there like he was holding him down except they were both upright, they were standing upright surrounded by clothes, hidden by pretty things. Cullen was looking at Dorian like he owned him, like Dorian was holding his fucking heart in his hands and he could do whatever he wanted with it. It was _fragile_ , the moment and yet it weighed heavily, like all the gravity of the world condensed into one space, the space between them.

‘I mean,’ Dorian said. ‘You’d have to be blind not to.’

‘Hmm,’ Cullen burred gently, the sound resonating in his chest beneath Dorian’s palm. ‘It means more when you say it.’

And because Dorian was _stupid,_ he asked, ‘Why?’

But Cullen had no answer to give and the moment expired.

‘I’ll wear this,’ he said, brushing past Dorian carefully. ‘Thanks so much.’

Dorian stayed in the racks for a few seconds after he was gone, caught in the negative space, still adrift, still very much _with_ Cullen.

And when Cullen was far away enough, he slammed his eyes shut and uttered the word, ‘ _Fuck!_ _’_ under his breath.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this latest update!


	7. Happiness Hit Her (Like a Train on the Tracks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Body Glitter Friday!  
> Hope you enjoy and if you do, toss a comment to your writer, for she is needy and writes SUPER fast when gifted comments.   
> 💜💜💜

Cullen and the others left at around seven thirty. Dorian hung out in his room, smaller than the suite but no less nice for all its excess, well stocked mini-bars that he avoided out of habit and fresh, silky sheets. In the time while Cullen was gone, off promoting or whatever, Dorian decided to take matters into his own hands in the most literal sense.

His body was still hot and undeniably _horny_ from helping Cullen try on clothes, from heaping praise on the man and witnessing him positively _squirm_ with it. It was almost impossible to do anything beyond take the edge off, to make an _attempt_ at feeling normal. Lana was messaging him constantly, impossibly banal stuff. Should she cut her hair again? What should she say in reply to a guy she’d been steadily snap-fucking for the last two days who was now using actual sentences for the first time? What was Dorian up to?

Dorian swiped the messages away as he began to look through his photos, skin tightening even more, heart thudding. He rolled over onto his front, phone balanced against the pillow before him and with his botched right hand, he scrolled through his gallery, left hand sliding down the waistline of his jeans, palming himself as he irritably swiped Lana’s latest message away, hoping she would take the hint and _get lost_ for a while.

He moved through the pictures with his index finger, the TV playing in the background, focus entirely on the phone, on the images he’d captured, on the _hundreds_ and hundreds of pictures he had of Cullen.

And they were even better than he remembered. There hadn’t been time for more than a cursory glance at the thumbnails while waiting around in the airport but now, _now_ he could take his time.

Cullen was beautiful. It was… an understatement. Bare, shirtless chest covered artfully with glitter, with purple and gold accentuating all his lines, all his _muscles_ and curves. His hair, his face, his mouth, his fucking _eyes._ He was looking right into the camera for most of them, looking at Dorian, staring right down into him like he truly saw him. The lighting was near perfect.

Abstractly, a part of Dorian was deeply concerned about just how hard he was, how _affected_ he was. As he went through each picture, Cullen’s composition shifting slightly for every one, capturing his movements in stilted fashion, Dorian could feel his breath coming in faster, shorter, his skin turning hot, his blood becoming liquid fire and all of it aimed low. There was an intensity about the pictures, about Cullen himself. Dorian had captured it. That feeling, that fucking _atmosphere_ between them in the room, the air thick and heavy, Cullen caught up in Dorian’s little directions and Dorian drunk on the feel of it.

He’d known Cullen barely three weeks. Not a full month had the blonde been in his life and yet Dorian’s free hand was determined to go where it shouldn’t, palming over the hot, hard length and causing Dorian to bite down hard on a moan as he ground down into the bed, eyes rolling slightly. 

He swiped until he arrived at the pictures taken today. Cullen holding the railing, laughing and smiling, sunlight behind him to the left, sunglasses on, the wind ruffling his curls just slightly. Dorian could _hear_ his laugh, lovely thing that it was. He could hear it, could practically smell the river, feel the wind.

He _wanted_ Cullen then so badly he could taste it.

Fuck. This was _fucked_ up.

Because Cullen was, at best, his friend, at worst simply a roommate who probably didn’t want Dorian to be left alone _lest he die_ in Cullen’s absence, he was such a clusterfuck.

Cullen may have responded to being given orders and… and _praise_ , but that didn’t mean anything, not really.

It didn’t mean _anything_ that Cullen had been hard when Dorian put body glitter over him. It didn’t mean anything that Cullen cared for him enough to cook, to make nice things, to always be home for dinner and then to make that dinner wonderful.

It didn’t necessarily even mean anything that he’d brought Dorian with him for this weird work trip vaguely involving _music_ stuff that Dorian refused to think about.

He ground down into his hand as if he was fucking it, thumbing the head as he went back to the pictures taken in his bedroom. There was one in particular and he had to scan through a lot to find it, his blood getting hotter and hotter, heart bucking wildly, inching higher and nearer to his throat as he roughly fucked his hand, indulged in pleasure while staring at his roommate like an absolute _perv_ and freak of nature.

Then he found it.

It was absolutely perfect, this one picture. Cullen had his hand running through his hair, face angled down but his eyes, half hooded and overcast with something like _longing_ , were fixed on the camera. He glittered and he shone and Dorian could see the want in his eyes, imagined he was touching Cullen, that it was _his_ hand in those messy, sticky curls again.

_Push your fingers through my hair._

Dorian bit his bottom lip hard, hard enough that a frisson of pleasure-pain shot through him, leaving warm tendrils of shivers wherever it ricocheted. Would Cullen bite his lip if they kissed? If Dorian told him to, he would. Though it was presumptuous to think such a thing, Dorian thought that maybe - just _maybe -_ Cullen would do most anything he said, if he called him beautiful.

His cock throbbed, pleasure and want in his lower stomach tightening and coiling like a guitar string, building quickly. With his hand in a cast, Dorian awkwardly zoomed closer on Cullen’s face, on the lines of his neck, the shape of his eyes, the way his lips were parted. He wanted him, oh fucking hell he wanted him so bad it _hurt._

How would it taste to kiss him, what kind of noises would he make? Dorian’s hand was flying now, thumb circling over the head on every few downstrokes just to fuck with the rhythm, just to punish himself and falter when he got close. He stared at the glitter, at Cullen’s chest, at his perfect pretty nipples, at the smattering of slicked hair that Dorian had run his hands through, soft little curls over hot skin covering _pounding_ heart.

Dorian kept his eyes on the picture, on Cullen, and imagined how it would feel to sink onto the same cock he’d made hard by accident, feel Cullen inside him. He wanted to hear the little punched out noises Cullen would make, wanted to chase the sounds and swallow them down. Tangle fingers in his hair and ride him hard, lift his hips and slam them down again, bring Cullen up for kisses and make him moan, groan and _scream_ how beautiful he was, make him say it, make him _know_ that he was the most gorgeous thing Dorian had ever seen.

He came so hard it was almost unexpected. It winded him like a sucker punch; a deep, fierce _plunge,_ everything inside him twisting violently, pleasure rocking through him while he was frozen solid by the orgasm, mouth open in a silent cry, eyes never moving from Cullen throughout the whole thing.

It faded all too quickly, though.

He cleaned himself up, showered again because why the fuck not and then answered Lana’s never ending messages.

*

Cullen, Fenris and Leliana arrived back just before ten. Dorian had been sleepily bored again, the selection of films available on his _entertainment system_ in the hotel holding zero appeal when he was alone and starting to get just a _tiny_ bit anxious about it.

He heard them arrive, muffled sounds from above indicating that they were back. Dorian sighed and viciously cursed the part of him that had wondered if Cullen might swing by his room, maybe see if he wanted to do anything for late dinner. Late dinner had become kind of their thing and… oh _God_ , he was so pathetic, he may as well just smother himself with a pillow, for fuck’s sake. Cullen had been _working_. The man was entitled to be tired.

Dorian checked his phone, seeing the tiny purple light in the top left hand corner. It was Sera.

**Are you in Prague?!?!? Xxx**

Dorian frowned and thought for a moment. He hadn’t told either of them, unsure of _how_ to tell them without making it sound like he and Cullen had fucking eloped. He didn’t use any social media beyond an Instagram with a random name that even they didn’t know was his, so there was nothing to show his location

_Why? xxx_

**OMG you are! WTF? Why didn** **’t you tell me? I COULD HAVE COME! xxx**

He snorted at that and typed out a quick reply.

_It_ _’s a work thing for Cullen. He let me tag along. Please don’t tell anyone, especially Lana. She’ll just book a flight. xxx_

**Lana is right next to me babe. You went for a work thing like** **… a music thing? Are you OK? We can video call and provide moral support. Xxx**

_How did you even know? Ffs xxx_

Sera started recording audio. Dorian rolled his eyes and backed out, seeing a message from Lana.

**I would not have booked a flight, dickhead. xxx**

_Only because you can_ _’t afford one, babe. How did you guys know I was in Prague? xxx_

**Twitter and Facebook xxx**

Dorian shuddered and then he considered. Cullen, who was a relatively normal person, probably had those things. He also probably did totally normal things like _Tweet_ his location, especially if he was promoting stuff. He was almost curious to _see_ Cullen’s media pages, to see what profile picture he had, but the mere thought of all that _blue_ , all the _comments_ from the last time he’d been on there….

Nope.

A big, fuck off sized plate of _nope_.

Sera was still recording her sodding aria when someone knocked on the door.

Dorian froze, all traces of tiredness gone just like that.

‘Yeah?’ he called out and then immediately cursed himself because it wasn’t like Cullen (or whoever it was, no need to get all _hopeful)_ could just stroll inside. ‘Sorry, one minute.’

He scrambled off the bed and opened the heavy door.

It was Cullen.

‘Hey,’ Dorian greeted, unable to contain a smile, equally unable to control the treacherous rhythm of his stupid heart.

Cullen’s hair was damp like he’d just showered, he wore a soft blue t-shirt and different jeans. He smelled fucking _delicious_ and looked even better. 

‘Hey, good night?’

‘Eh, it was OK. You ready for dinner?’

Dorian blinked. ‘Sorry?’

Cullen frowned; a darling, concerned little thing. ‘Did you already eat? I know it’s late but I wanted to take you out for dinner.’

And Dorian, he just got stuck in a little time loop, hearing the last five words over and over, Cullen’s voice all sad and distressed over the idea that Dorian had already eaten like anyone normal would have done by then.

‘No, I haven’t eaten, but I just thought you’d be too tired to want to go anywhere. We don’t have to go out,’ Dorian offered. ‘We can stay in, get takeaway, room service if you—’

‘I actually have something planned,’ Cullen said, half smiling. ‘If that’s cool?’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian said, swallowing. ‘That’s… that’s cool.’

*

There was something undeniably exciting about taking his sleep clothes _off_ at night to get dressed into a fresh outfit because the night wasn’t _over_ yet, there was more to come.

Cullen waited patiently on the bed where Dorian had literally jerked off not three hours ago thinking about him and Dorian dressed hurriedly, attempting to do something with his slightly too long hair. He put just a _teeny_ bit of eyeliner on, styled said hair and then decided that was plenty. He looked good, not great, but good enough.

Dorian checked his WhatsApp and saw an eight fucking minute voice message from Sera. He groaned and threw a glance at the bathroom door. Cullen was waiting and God only knew what was in that message that he didn’t want Cullen, or any decent person, to hear.

He played the first second of the message to mark it as read and then paused it immediately, simply putting, _Lol_ in reply to whatever she’d rambled on about. Dorian then stowed his phone and left the bathroom, determined to be breezy, nay _cool_.

*

Prague by night was an entirely different vibe and Dorian found himself at least morbidly curious about what the clubs and pubs would be like. A dank part of himself that was currently being hauled into the light of things like _honest sober conversations with people he liked,_ it wished for the numbing, soothing agency of alcohol. That removal of responsibility, freedom from inhibition.

Though the latter was only likely to cause all manner of _daylight_ problems.

When Fenris dropped them off, giving Dorian a polite, almost _friendly_ nod, Cullen pointed in the direction they were apparently going and gave his friend a wry kind of look, lifting his wrist to show the same tracker as Dorian. Fenris smiled and rolled his eyes.

They fell into step, walking through the city streets on a Tuesday night, hustle and bustle and drunk twenty-somethings simply _everywhere_.

‘It’s just down here,’ Cullen said. ‘I’m sorry about the… bracelet.’

Dorian glanced down at their twin accessories. ‘Oh, that’s OK. I don’t really care, so long as it gives your friends peace of mind.’

Cullen nodded. ‘He told you about the break in?’

‘Yeah, he did,’ Dorian said a little softer. ‘I’m sorry, that’s really fucking shit. I wouldn’t want to live alone either after that.’

‘There were other reasons to want a roommate. I’d been trying to find one for a while, honestly but all the uh, all the potential people were a bit… off-putting. Too exuberant. Leliana went mad at me for trying.’

Dorian wanted to say something along the lines of how Leliana needed to chill the fuck out a bit, but it was a nice evening and he decided to contain his vitriol.

‘Why did you choose me?’

Cullen laughed, wrapping his arms around himself as they walked.

‘You’ll think it’s stupid.’

‘I won’t.’

Cullen sighed and nudged Dorian as they walked. ‘It was that you had a reason for wanting a roommate. You had things to be getting on with. Interest to pursue. You seemed… forward moving.’

Dorian stared at the street ahead, partially waylaid with drunkards. He tried to keep the smile in place, but it was hard.

‘I mean, I _don_ _’t_ have things to be getting on with,’ he pointed out reluctantly. ‘I literally have nothing better to do than tag along with you on your big, impressive business trip. No job, no family to visit, no talent to make money with. Beyond taking pictures with my phone, the way a three year old can, I’ve done nothing since meeting you to even contribute to the notion that I’m _human_ , let alone forward moving.’

Cullen didn’t reply right away and Dorian ground his back teeth together, left hanging in the negative space of putting himself down _without_ the other person jumping in and immediately denying it.

‘You’re in exhale mode,’ Cullen said after a few beats. ‘It’s all a big cycle. Everything is cyclical. I have months where I retreat and just go into a creative kind of shell, accumulating ideas and concepts, learning about myself, about the world and it involves a lot of sitting still. Just because you’re not moving, doesn’t mean you’re not progressing.’ They approached a small restaurant. ‘Maybe you’re at a turning point, about to start something new and huge. You need to slow before you turn, right?’

Dorian inclined his head. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’

‘Maybe don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Cullen said looking up at the sign. _K The Two Brothers_ , it read and announced itself as an Indian restaurant. ‘It takes a lot of balls to follow your passions and even more to give up on something that doesn’t feel right.’

‘I do like photography,’ Dorian said, determined not to come off like a _complete_ loser. ‘I think I might be good at it.’

Cullen held the door open for him. ‘I think so too. I think you’re fucking incredible, actually.’

Dorian had nothing cool to say in return.

*

It _shouldn_ _’t_ have come as any kind of surprise really. Dorian should have known they weren’t just going out for a meal. But in all honesty, it had been a long time since anyone made any effort to consistently surprise him, with _nice_ things, at least.

Upon entry into the restaurant, which had apparently closed at ten but not for Cullen, the chefs and owners came to greet him personally. They shook hands and spoke enthusiastically, gesturing to the kitchen at the back. They shook Dorian’s hand and greeted him too, just as warmly, saying they hoped he was hungry.

Dorian followed, mystified and just a little bit baffled.

Until, once inside the beautifully maintained, spacious kitchen, Cullen washed his hands and smiled at Dorian.

Cullen was going to _cook for him_.

Motherfucker.

‘You can help,’ he told Dorian, prim and teasing, just slightly smug that he’d managed to surprise the other man again. ‘You can prep.’

‘I don’t know how to prep.’

‘The chef will help you,’ Cullen said easily, dropping a wink at Dorian that did ridiculous, possibly _illegal_ things to his dumb, oh so gullible heart.

And that was how they spent the better part of an hour. Dorian learning about _prep_ ; washing and trimming vegetables, slicing them, searing and frying them, then helping with the meat. Under the tutelage of apparently legendary chefs, they crafted the most amazing meal Dorian had ever seen. Come 11pm he was frankly starving and had worked up quite the appetite. There was something genuinely _lovely_ about making the food themselves, about seeing all the care and attention that went into the creation of such delights.

When they sat down in the empty restaurant, a few candles on their table and the rest of the lights turned off, Dorian felt almost impossibly happy.

The two chefs bade them a good night and left them to it, telling Cullen to drop the keys through the letter box on the way out. Dorian wasn’t even astonished by it, took it in his stride.

‘You were really good,’ Dorian told Cullen, determined to push his luck and see how much _better_ he could make the night.

Cullen, who had already been looking at Dorian, just smiled. It was, however, an especially sweet smile. ‘You too. It was fun, right? Nothing like a little manual labour to work up an appetite running close to midnight.’

Dorian picked up a skewer, the vegetables made by himself, the meat perfectly seared and flavoured by Cullen. He took a bite, warmth and bliss spreading through him instantly. Fuck, but that was _good_. ‘You didn’t want to break our streak,’ he said softly when he swallowed. ‘Did you?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Are you going to cook for me forever, then? From now on?’

Cullen sat back, chewing for a moment. ‘I wish.’

Oh, seriously, heart - get a _grip_.

‘There’ll be times when I’m away,’ he added simply. Dorian noted that he was already getting better at dancing around _certain aspects_ of _certain things_ and though it was nice, though Dorian appreciated the effort he was making, it made him sad too. Not about the _promoting_ stuff, not that. He didn’t care about that. That was money and it was none of his business. No, he cared about how Cullen had held his guitar, how he’d sang that song for Dorian, a song he’d written for his daughter. He cared, despite the pain it caused him, that Cullen said he hadn’t played in pubs for a long time.

‘Y’know,’ Dorian said, dipping his lamb into some impossibly delicious sauce. ‘While we’re here, you should play somewhere.’

Cullen froze. ‘What?’

Dorian shrugged like it was no big thing. ‘Yeah. I bet there’s like, an open mic night or a karaoke place somewhere and you could just play. No one would know you and who cares if it’s not well received. Just play for yourself. Maybe.’

The other man had his gaze very carefully averted, looking down at his plate neutrally. ‘You think so?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Dorian said determinedly and then, because he was a _grown up_ , God damn it, he added, ‘I remember when my uh. When my ex used to play in small venues and stuff. There was a good energy to it. I know you haven’t… you haven’t had much chance to do that so maybe this trip would be a good time to give it a go. That’s what I think.’ He nodded and looked up, smiling brightly, shifting the conversation back somewhere that he could breathe. ‘So, do you know the owners?’

Cullen took the shift and ran with it. ‘Leliana does. She organised it.’

‘I’ll have to thank her.’

They fell into a comfortable silence, if such a thing existed, while Dorian ate the food he’d helped to make, the candles burning low.

Dorian tried to think of the last time he’d been with a man he liked this much when _silence_ hadn’t been weaponised against him. He failed.

It was well past midnight by the time they finished but Dorian felt like a teenager again, full of energy and open minded acceptance for where the night may still yet take him.

*

Prague was _cold_ by night, the kind of cold that seeped into Dorian’s bones, the kind of darkness that seemed entirely opaque and _dense_ , a velvet shroud that contained something _sentient_ and watchful.

‘Is it OK for you to be walking around without Fenris?’

Cullen smiled, glancing over his shoulder. ‘He’ll be nearby somewhere.’

‘He cares about you a lot.’

‘I know. I love him, he’s my best friend. I’m… I’m very lucky to have such good friends.’ Cullen may have been a bit _tipsy_ which Dorian found odd because he said he didn’t drink very often. Maybe this was the exception.

‘Your life is really fucking weird, you know that?’

At that Cullen laughed, but it wasn’t what Dorian _wanted_. It was sad, like Dorian had insulted him and Cullen agreed in principal with what he’d said.

‘I know.’

‘Not weird in a bad way,’ Dorian rushed to explain. ‘I mean, you brought me to Prague. You made me dinner in a five star restaurant. Please don’t think I’m complaining. I’m really not.’

‘I appreciate you coming with me. This business here in Prague it’s… it’s not what I like to do, usually. Thank you.’

He said the last two words softly, voice curling like velvet out into the night. Dorian wanted to lean into him, wanted to lose himself in just being _able_ to lean into the man. Fuck, not a good idea. Definitely not.

‘You’re welcome. So, where to now?’

‘Not too late for you?’

‘Maybe if I was home, but no. C’mon, show me a good time.’

*

Dorian rolled over and groaned, not in a good way. He’d slept in a funny position and by _funny_ , he meant a position that induced bone-bending agony. The room was bright, curtains not closed.

‘Fuck you, Prague,’ he muttered. He was hot, had fallen asleep fully clothed like an absolute twat, at least he’d taken his shoes off, but he—

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Cullen was there. Asleep. In the double bed. _Beside Dorian,_ all curled up like a kitten, like a darling creature of beauty and innocence. The fact that he was fully clothed too did _nothing_ to make the scenario any better.

Dorian, who had slept on his front, hence the shooting pain up his back, just sort of _froze_ there, staring comically at Cullen, feeling irrationally terrified of waking him.

What the fuck had _happened?_

Dorian might genuinely have stayed there forever, had not a knock on the door caused his heart to back-flip against his spine, fear ricocheting through him in a dizzying flash. The knock stirred Cullen, consciousness returning as he began to move and Dorian…

Dorian rolled sideways off the bed and pelted, full tilt towards the bathroom. He shut himself inside and locked it, like that somehow made everything _all better_.

He ran the shower and stared at himself in the large mirror. He looked sleep rumpled, hair askew, but not… not _bad_. He looked closer, his memory playing a game of fucking hide and seek, and he tried to discern if his lips were at all swollen, any more red than usual. They weren’t. His neck had zero love bites. He didn’t feel like he’d had sex, at least not judging by the _exceptionally_ well timed morning boner that didn’t seem to care about things like panic or terror.

From outside the bathroom door, he heard male voices. Cullen and Fenris maybe. He closed his eyes and gave himself a stern mental talking to.

Then he turned the shower off and decided to face the situation like a man.

‘Morning,’ Fenris greeted dryly, but not in an especially unkind way.

Cullen, whose head had turned towards the door immediately, gave Dorian the kind of smile that left him partially reeling, knees just a little bit shaky because really, was he _that_ happy to see Dorian?

The memory of last night was still being a reticent little _bitch_ but Dorian clung to the fact that they were both fully clothed - Cullen still had his _socks_ on - and that nothing whatsoever would have happened with them both in such a state of heavy dress.

‘Good morning,’ Dorian replied to Fenris, heading to the table to make tea with the kettle and free teabags but there was already a tray and the tray had delicious things on it, freshly made tea included. ‘Oh, this is nice. Thank you.’

‘Did you sleep OK?’

He kept his back to Cullen which was definitely for the best. ‘Uh, yeah. Not bad. You?’

And Cullen said, ‘I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.’

Dorian cursed silently, teeth ground together hard as he added sugar to the tea and an extra teabag because he was spoilt for Cullen’s method now. When he turned around to face the music, Cullen was leaning against the velvet headboard, covers and pillows a rumpled mess. He looked painfully pretty.

His hair was all mussed, eyes still half closed from sleep, t-shirt rucked up, fucking _socks_ still on. Who the fuck wore socks to bed? Cullen fucking Rutherford, apparently.

Fenris, who was perched on the side of the bed, gave Dorian a measuring stare. ‘Could you bring the tray?’

Dutifully, Dorian went back for the tray and set it on the bed even though there was a table nearby. Dorian then kind of _stood around_ in his own room, morning wood thankfully taking the hint to fuck royally off, especially in the presence of Mr _I-Kill-People-With-Powdered-Glass._

‘We need to talk,’ Fenris said once he’d had a sip of coffee.

Cullen nodded, gaze lowered while Dorian had a very mild panic attack.

‘About what?’

‘Well,’ Fenris said, reaching for a custard cream, opening the tiny pack of three biscuits. ‘Most of it is business stuff we can discuss later, but there is one aspect that Dorian should be here for.’

Dorian sighed unhappily. Here it came. _Stay away from Cullen. You_ _’re not good enough for him. No more luring him out, no more spending the night doing… whatever they’d fallen asleep doing. Shoo now, lower class Dorian._

‘Lee is on the verge of apoplexy.’

It wasn't what he’d been expecting. ‘Oh, shit,’ Cullen said, rubbing his face. ‘Really?’

‘I’m giving you the heads up because I’ve never seen her this…’ Fenris gestured vaguely, expression somewhat grim. _‘Leliana_.’

‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’

‘Look, all I’m saying is check in with her a bit more. This is…’ he glanced at Dorian. ‘It’s a bit new for her and with everything _else_ , she’s already worried and stressed beyond her normal sky-high levels. It’s a new variant for her. Madeline never wanted to be here, and you didn’t want to… well. You know what I’m saying.’

‘It’s not interfering with work,’ Cullen argued with just a tiny hint of bite. ‘I’m _doing_ the-the things she wanted! I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘Right, but if you hadn’t missed the O2, it wouldn’t be necessary.’

‘It was _one_ date! I’ve never missed a single one, even when I had the fucking _flu_!’

Fenris wrinkled his nose. ‘I definitely remember that and you’re sort of proving my point. It’s new, this behaviour. She’s adjusting to it but come on, you know how stressful this is for her. Things happening at the last minute is bad enough and then you say we’re not allowed to…’ Fenris sighed and Dorian realised he was the _reason_ the other man kept sighing, kept pausing.

‘I’ll go,’ he offered quickly.

‘No,’ Cullen said suddenly, so suddenly it almost made Dorian jump. ‘No, please,’ he implored. ‘Please stay.’ He looked back at Fenris. ‘I get it. I’ll do whatever she wants.’

Fenris slanted an eyebrow like he doubted it. ‘Press? The junket?’

‘Yep,’ Cullen said, reaching for Dorian’s hand and slowly, gently pulling him to sit beside him. ‘Whatever she says, I’ll do. I promise. I’ll come up in a minute and tell her that myself. I know I’ve fucked her around the last few weeks. I’ll make it right.’

He still hadn’t let go of Dorian’s hand.

‘She’s not doing this for herself,’ Fenris said quietly, not missing the point of contact between the two.

‘I know.’

‘And none of this is new to you.’

‘I know that, I’m sorry.’

‘I think she’s terrified you’ll cancel the tour.’

_The tour_. Cullen was going on _tour?_ Fuck, Dorian hated the word. Hated the connotations. Nights on cramped coaches, the band drinking through the night while he tried to sleep, his ex above him, kissing him and laughing, tasting of tequila, telling Dorian that they could be quiet enough, that no one would hear it.

‘What tour?’ he asked before he could help it, asked a question he really didn’t want the answer to. A sick part of him wanted to ask _who_ Cullen was promoting, was irrationally terrified that the answer would be the one he dreaded most. 

Cullen looked at him hesitantly, Fenris falling silent. ‘It’s not until September.’

‘It’s a…’ Dorian cleared his throat when it caught and yes, Cullen was still holding his hand. ‘Music thing?’

It hurt to even say.

Cullen nodded.

‘I just. Can I just make sure its… hmm.’ Oh great, now he couldn’t breathe. ‘The band or-or the artist you promote, I just. It’s not. Can you just tell me it’s not him?’

‘Are you all right?’

Well _obviously_ he wasn’t all right, Fenris, fuck you. Cullen’s thumb rubbed over his knuckles.

‘It’s nothing to do with _him_ ,’ the blond said firmly, calmly. It was a port in the storm and Dorian clung to it, head still swimming slightly. ‘Nothing whatsoever.’

Dorian took a deep breath, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Why was this his life? Why was he such a fucking useless _wreck?_ Why did Cullen want him there? He wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth anything, as if the fucking _album_ wasn’t evidence enough of that.

Cullen rubbed his back gently, hand moving in a soothing circle.

‘It’s all right,’ he told Dorian. ‘It’s fine.’

He could feel Fenris watching, sharp green eyes likely taking in every place they were touching, watching the unusual intimacy between _friends._ Dorian didn’t care. He took comfort from Cullen, took whatever he offered and anchored himself back in the moment; safe, secure, cared for.

‘Did you say _promote_?’ Fenris asked in a strange tone once Dorian was able to take a mouthful of his perfectly temperate tea.

‘Let’s move on,’ Cullen said, a little forcefully. ‘I’ll speak with Lee and I’ll make it right. Was that it?

Fenris shrugged, but the frown didn’t vanish entirely. ‘Just to say be careful of social media.’

Cullen scoffed but Fenris didn’t relent. ‘The last thing we need is a helpful trail to where you are. Two girls from the coffee shop you went to yesterday posted pictures. You know better than this. Dorian,’ he said, turning his gaze onto the tea-sipping wreck. ‘I know you only have an anonymous Instagram account, but just to reiterate. No social media while we’re…’ he cast around for a word. ‘On the move, OK? It’s difficult to maintain security when moving as it is.’

‘I don’t use social media.’

‘I know. I was just saying in case you decided to make a Facebook today or anything.’

‘I would literally rather die.’

Cullen snorted and finished one of Fenris’s discarded custard creams, no longer rubbing Dorian’s back. ‘Facebook is the _worst_.’

Fenris got up, taking his tea in the pretty china cup. ‘All right. I’ll see you upstairs?’

‘Yeah, thanks, Fen.’

‘No problem,’ he said lightly. ‘Oh, and before I forget, Rosalie messaged Lee and asked if she could hang out with you in Calvi while you’re there.’

His whole demeanour brightened. ‘Of course she can.’

‘It’s already arranged. Just thought I’d let you know.’

‘Was it meant to be a surprise?’ Cullen asked, sounding somewhat amused.

‘Partially, maybe. Acting surprised can’t hurt. Anyway, see you upstairs.’

Only once he was gone did Dorian drop his head into his hands.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said in a low voice. ‘I told them both not to discuss anything like that in front of you.’

‘Please don’t apologise.’

‘I—all right. Sorry.’

‘Please don’t _apologise_ for apologising, Cullen.’

Dorian heard the other man laugh softly and then… fucking _then_ … he lifted Dorian’s hand with the fractured thumb and pressed a careful kiss to the back of it before moving away. 

‘Fair enough,’ he said like nothing had happened. Dorian looked at his hand, at the place where Cullen, still chewing his biscuit, had kissed the cast like that was a normal thing people did. ‘I’ll go up there in a minute and then we can go out for a proper breakfast if you like. Somewhere nice, or maybe—’

‘What happened last night?’ Dorian blurted out.

Cullen looked back slowly, halfway towards the bathroom. ‘Last night?’

‘Yeah, I. I don’t really remember.’

‘You weren’t that drunk, surely.’

Fuck _off,_ stupid blush. Seriously, what was the point of blushing? ‘I honestly don’t remember.’

‘Oh, well.’ Cullen rubbed the back of his neck. ‘We talked.’

‘Talked.’

‘For most of the night. After the restaurant—do you remember the restaurant?’

‘I do, yeah.’

‘Well, then we walked along the river. We saw the uh. The padlock fence.’

Dorian squinted. ‘Yeah, I think I remember that. Did we make a padlock?’

‘Um, we did, yes.’

‘Ah, OK. Then what happened?’

‘We came back here,’ Cullen said slowly. ‘We watched a film.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, struggling to get his brain in gear. ‘Was it a Harry Potter film?’

‘Yeah. Prisoner of Azkaban.’

Dorian _sort_ of remembered, if he strained. ‘And then we fell asleep?’

Cullen looked down. ‘We talked for a while first. You were… you were tired, it’s probably why you don’t remember.’

Despite the feeling that he would regret asking, Dorian ventured, ‘What did we talk about?’

Silence filled the air between them, the space where they were no longer touching and Cullen didn’t seem to be able to look at Dorian.

‘Uh,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Just stuff. I don’t really remember either.’

Which had to be a lie because now it was his turn to blush. Fucking _Christ_ , Dorian just hoped he hadn’t embarrassed himself too much.

‘OK, well. Thank you for the amazing night,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’m gonna jump in the shower.’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said forcing a smile. ‘Yeah, great. I’ll be upstairs.’

*


	8. I Like To Keep My Issues Drawn (It's Always Darkest Before Dawn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the amazing, kind, wonderful support and comments. Have an extra chapter this week because I'm so grateful for y'all. 💜💜💜

Dorian took his time getting ready for the day ahead. He half listened to Sera’s voice message while in the shower, catching a lot of squealing and a great deal of nonsense, but overall the basis of her message had been that if he needed support or anything, they would both _happily_ come with him. By the time she had moved onto telling him about the latest episode of Eastenders, he was towel dried and dressed.

He replied, _lol, love you xxx_ , and then headed up a level to where Cullen and the others were.

Before he even had the chance to knock, knuckles poised over the wood, it opened and there stood Fenris with as pleasant a smile as the man was capable of giving. He cut off Dorian’s standard greeting and then, before anything could be said, slipped out of the door and closed it behind him. Dorian could hear Cullen’s voice inside, weirdly pitched and definitely not involved in a natural conversation.

Once the door clicked quietly shut, Fenris said, ‘Let’s talk over here.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Dorian muttered, but didn’t object. Towards the end of the hall, Fenris looked back and then took a breath.

‘Sorry. It’s running longer than we thought. He’ll be done in a minute.’

Dorian’s shields raised a little. ‘Promoting stuff?’

There was that suspicious stare. ‘Dorian, you know he’s a musician, right?’

Oh, for God’s sake. ‘Yes, Fenris. I know he’s a musician.’

‘ _Do_ you, though?’

‘Look, I get it,’ Dorian said, a touch _testily._ _‘_ I don’t need to know about any of that stuff and I _can_ _’t_ hear about any of the music stuff. I know he plays and that’s—really, that’s great. I’m happy for him. I just don’t want to know about it.’

‘Fair enough but I still think there may have been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way.’

Dorian rolled his eyes. ‘How long have you known him?’

‘Since I was four. Why?’

‘Oh, well, nothing. I was just changing the subject. Was Leliana OK?’

‘Yes,’ Fenris said nodding. ‘They had a good talk.’

‘Is she going to kill me?’

Fenris grinned wryly. ‘I’m sure Cullen would protect you. She seems scary—’

‘She _is_ scary.’

‘—but it’s just because of the high pressure nature of her job.’

Dorian looked around the hallway. ‘She’s his manager, isn’t she?’

‘Yeah.’

Did promoters even _have_ managers? Weren’t they themselves managers of a kind? Dorian truly didn’t know. But then she was his friend first, so maybe he’d asked her to do it, to help him.

He shrugged it off, unable to think the word without an endless stream of connotations to the darker parts of his life.

‘Do you miss being rich?’

Dorian looked back at Fenris. ‘That’s really creepy.’

Fenris shrugged. ‘I’m genuinely curious. You were _rich-_ rich. Trust fund rich. It must have been a big adjustment.’

‘It was.’

‘The twins who sued for power of the estate, they’re vile people.’

‘Know them, do you?’

‘Leliana does. She knows everyone, though.’

‘Great,’ Dorian said dully. ‘And yeah, I know they’re vile. I have clear and present examples of said vileness. They let me keep the loft which is really all I care about. My Father was a prick, he had a whole other family - probably more than one - that he never told us about.’ He sniffed and tightened the grip around himself defensively. ‘The money never made me happy anyway.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Oh, what now?’ Dorian asked, rolling his eyes. _‘What_? Am I using Cullen for his money? A conniving, opportunistic gold-digger?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then what? What do you want to know beyond what you delved into my personal life by _vetting_ me or whatever?’

‘Nothing. I was just curious.’

‘About what?’

‘You.’

‘Really?’

‘That, and simply to say, if you ever wanted something nasty to happen to your ex, let me know.’

Dorian’s whole body tightened, mouth pressing in a thin line. ‘Pardon?’

‘What he did to you was disgusting.’

‘Did you tell—?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Great, can we not talk about it then, please?’

The door opened. Someone, a young woman with a messy topknot and gorgeously striking features, poked her head around the frame. ‘They’re done!’ she said brightly and then vanished.

‘That’s Josie,’ Fenris explained, slowly heading back to the suite. ‘She flew in last night from America. Thank God.’

‘What does she do?’

‘She our PR manager.’

‘Ah.’ Dorian couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. ‘She was… necessary because of me?’

‘No. She flew in to help, that’s all.’

_To help._

‘Right.’

Inside the suite, there were an additional four people. Two of them were from yesterday, the girls who’d gone for clothes. They were currently selecting outfits and laying them carefully atop an already vast pile. A man wearing a suit, hands clasped in front of him as he stood by the balcony doors like a statue. He had to be security of some sort. Leliana was talking with the fourth, Josie. Cullen was flipping through some kind of paperwork, pacing a little.

The door closed behind them and Cullen looked over, hitting Dorian with that sweet little smile.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It took ages.’

Dorian looked behind him at the set up. A chair, a tripod, a small camera. The curtains were arranged for optimal light, there was a box of makeup open on the dresser nearby. The whole place was in a kind of organised chaos.

Promoters did interviews, Dorian knew.

‘No worries,’ he said as Josie made a beeline for him.

‘Dorian!’ she greeted happily, taking his hand and shaking it. She gave him an extremely thorough once over and then looked back at Leliana. ‘Lee, he’s beautiful!’

Leliana’s expression was deadpan in the extreme. ‘I never said he _wasn_ _’t._ That has fuck all to do with anything.’

Josie scoffed loudly, continuing her assessment of Dorian. ‘Criminal convictions?’ she asked pleasantly as if offering him a fucking toffee.

‘Sorry?’

‘None,’ Fenris supplied lightly, pulling off his shirt and accepting one that the pair of girls had selected for him. ‘Obviously.’

‘Always good to check,’ she insisted and Dorian caught her accent that time; thick and curling, middle eastern and decidedly lovely. She wore a bright yellow silk shirt, red leather trousers, her eyes darkened expertly, hair purposefully messy. ‘We should capitalise on him.’

‘ _Capitalise_?’

Josie hit him with a megawatt smile. ‘You’re absolutely gorgeous. We should make use of that.’

‘No,’ Cullen said sternly. ‘I already explained.’

‘You didn’t explain about how he was of super-model calibre beauty!’ she accused cheerfully. ‘Now, why don’t you and I sit for a moment and we can talk about you?’

‘ _Josie_.’

‘Cullen, sweetheart, there would need to be a context, you know this. We can't just spring it out of nowhere and look at him, it’ll be no hardship to guide him easily into the entourage party!’

‘Tea? Coffee?’ one of the girls offered Dorian as Cullen and Josie devolved into a weirdly pleasant argument, at least from Josie’s side of things, until Dorian politely refused.

He lifted his fucked up hand, saying, ‘We can talk, it’s fine,’ just to stop their back and forth.

Leliana looked at him quickly, Fenris smiling softly as one of the other girls held up ties to his chest, assessing.

‘You don’t have to,’ Cullen reiterated. 

‘It’s fine,’ Dorian said. ‘Really.’

It was not fine. Josie guided him to a nearby pair of couches, sat him down and then plonked gracefully beside him, knees folded beneath her like they were the best of friends.

‘Hi,’ she said, smile dazzling.

Dorian laughed nervously. ‘Uh, hi.’

‘Let’s start again.’

‘Sure.’

‘I’m Josie.’

‘Dorian.’

‘Hi, Dorian. How was your night last night?’

From across the other side of the room, Cullen warned, ‘ _Josephine_ ,’ in a low kind of growl but it didn’t seem to affect the woman in the slightest.

‘He’s so grouchy today!’ she observed in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Now, I’ve been briefed about you, but it was vague so I’d like to get to know you a tiny bit more if that’s all right.’

 _Briefed_. The word took hold of Dorian’s throat and his eyes shot to Fenris, still being dressed like a Ken Doll, who shook his head. Dorian relaxed fractionally, assured that Fenris hadn’t told Josie anything beyond what she needed to know.

‘All right.’

‘You’re queer?’

‘Yes,’ he said guardedly, stretching out the Y.

‘Excellent. Cisgender?’

‘Yes.’

She patted him on the hand and smiled. ‘There’s no need to be tense, you beautiful creature. In this room, almost everyone is queer. I’m a pansexual trans woman. Cullen is bisexual. Fenris is pan. Thom over there is about the straightest of us all and there was still that time in college when he—’

Thom, who was still standing by the balcony, cleared his throat and glared.

‘Oh please!’ she dismissed with a giggle that reminded Dorian of Lana. ‘We’ve all done _that_! My point,’ she assured Dorian, linking her hand through his and placing the other on her heart. ‘Is that you’re in good company. Cullen was smart very early on _not_ to fall into the trap of pretending to be anything other than what he is. Therefore, if anything was to come _out_ —’

Leliana walked swiftly past and said, ‘He’ll murder you, Josie.’

Josie apparently gave zero fucks. ‘—about a relationship with a man, the base would not care. They’ve known from the start that he’s bisexual. You see?’

Dorian did not see. He really did not. ‘You’re saying… it’s fine that I’m gay.’

‘Yes, of course! And I’m also saying there’s no need to hide that, not that I think you _could._ Today’s demographic is an entirely different thing from twenty years ago. So. Problematic past relationships?’

‘ _Actually_ ,’ Fenris said suddenly appearing behind Dorian. ‘Could this wait? We need Dorian to pick some outfits.’

Grateful for the help, Dorian got to his feet and found Cullen watching him with his hand over his mouth, looking extremely upset.

Fenris whisked Dorian away towards the clothes rails, nodding at the two girls who vanished obediently. ‘I’m sorry,’ Fenris said quietly, raking through the hangers to provide noise as cover. ‘She doesn’t mean any harm. It’s her job. Optics and stuff.’

Cullen had followed them over there, into the hidden world of clothes. Dorian nodded blindly, pleased that he hadn’t done anything mortifying like burst into tears at the words _Problematic Past Relationships_. Cullen seemed like he might actually be about to cry though and Dorian… Dorian was fucking sick of it, of his past, of his whole _bullshit_ life.

His life that had been ruined by one man who’d used Dorian to catapult himself into the number one slot in the charts, though not before slowly and methodically breaking him to pieces over the years they were together.

Before Cullen could say anything, Dorian took a very deep breath, closed his eyes and loudly said, ‘I was with the lead singer of Fully Charged. He wrote a take-down album about me and staged a very painful breakup which went viral. It’s still all over the internet, so _yes_ , Josie. Yes, I have a problematic past relationship. Sorry about your… optics.’

Every word hurt, every fucking syllable was red hot agony but once it was out, once it was gone, Dorian exhaled steadily and opened his eyes to find Cullen standing right there, a source of calm, of solidarity. The room was silent, there was a kind of ringing in Dorian’s ears, but it didn’t matter.

‘Oh,’ Josie said after a few beats. ‘Well, that can be dealt with.’

*

The balcony was cold and extremely high. Dorian peered down once and then moved back a little, vertigo vibrating through his bones. The view was gorgeous, though. All of Prague spread out prettily, the river, the buildings, mountains in the distance.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Cullen said without preamble. ‘Lee called her in and I should have warned you. Fuck. I’m just so sorry.’

‘Cullen, people should be able to ask me questions. It’s no one’s fault but mine that I’m like this and fucking hell, I should be over it by now.’ He shook his head. ‘I should be _over it_.’

‘It was selfish of me to bring you.’

‘Don’t start all that.’

‘I’ve dragged you into this madness.’

‘Please don’t internalise _my bullshit_ and make it somehow your fault. You did this amazing thing. You brought me with you into a five star hotel, into a foreign country. You’re paying for everything.’

‘You don’t owe me anything. Quite the opposite.’

Dorian swallowed. ‘What does that mean?’

‘I—it’s. You’re my friend. Having you here makes me happy.’

 _I_ _’m happy around you_ , echoed in Dorian’s mind, a potential memory of last night, Cullen laying on his side, the pair talking in hushed voices. _I haven_ _’t been happy with someone like this for a long time_.

‘I’m happy around you.’

‘You are?’

‘Cullen,’ Dorian said softly. ‘Of _course_ I am. Look, it’s not especially my favourite thing in the world, being sweetly grilled like a prawn on a barbecue by a PR expert, but I’d still rather be here than stuck at home, alone, no job and no you.’

Oh, the last part was _not_ meant to come out that way.

Cullen leaned on the railing, looking out at the view. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘You don’t have to agree to anything she suggests.’

‘I won’t feel obligated.’

He smiled, that beautiful blond. ‘Good. Come on. I have to finish up a few things and then we’re moving to the new hotel.’

‘Oh, Cullen, seriously?’ Dorian said, remembering the debacle yesterday. ‘This place is _fine_!’

*

‘All right, yeah. This is way, way better.’

The two bedroom _Presidential_ suite of the Mandarin Oriental was simply _exquisite._ It was located in a _tower_ for one thing. Split level complete with dining room, living room, two master bedrooms with en suites and best of all, a huge private rooftop terrace. The building had once been a monastery and where the Four Seasons had been right in the heart of all the tourism and noise, this was secluded, it was lush and it was fucking outrageously beautiful.

Dorian dumped his bag down on the bed, turning in a circle. It was just him and Cullen, the others settling into their suites after a hurried brunch and then a highly efficient checking out process. Leliana and Josephine were sharing the _Lazar_ suite a little way away and Fenris was in the room directly beneath Dorian and Cullen.

‘I’m so glad you like it,’ Cullen said from the other room, _his_ room. In the space between their rooms was a small lounge area. ‘And I agree. Much better.’

Whereas the Four Seasons was all cold aesthetics and dated splendour, the Mandarin was fresh and clean, intuitively perfect and so spacious, but so _hidden_. Dorian felt safe there, imagine that.

In the living room, there was a dining table big enough for ten, a massive, plush bunch of sofas, huge TV.

Oh, it was fucking _incredible_.

Cullen came into Dorian’s room, looking around as if to check they were the same. ‘We can all have dinner together tonight if you want,’ he said. ‘At the big table.’

‘That would be lovely.’

Cullen beamed. Dorian looked at the luxury and all the lovely things he could never afford. ‘Look, do you want me to… uh, contribute to this at all?’

‘Nope,’ Cullen said easily, falling back onto Dorian’s bed like a happy starfish. ‘You can pay me with your company.’

Dorian snorted. ‘Like a sex worker?’

‘Kinda, yeah. Leliana hires people like that. Holistic sex work, I think is the term? But yeah, she hires people every now and then.' He cracked a little grin. 'One in particular.’

‘For sex?’

Cullen had his eyes closed, seeming very at ease on Dorian’s bed. ‘It's as much for emotional support as it is...' he gestured vaguely, only a tiny bit awkward as he fumbled for the word. 'Sex. Someone to attend events with, someone to be with on days off and holidays.’

‘That seems kind of sad.’

‘It’s not for lack of company. We all go everywhere together. I don’t know, I think she likes the control of being able to dismiss them, no strings, but there's... more to it, as well. Do you want to go out on the terrace? You could take some pictures. I bet the light is good today, right? I mean, I know nothing about light,’ he chuckled.

Dorian stared at him for a second, not speaking. Cullen looked up, lifting his head to see what the silence was for.

‘No?’

‘Yeah.’ Dorian shook himself, insisting that he get a fucking _grip._ No need to get weepy eyed and star struck because a dude was taking an interest in his… interests. ‘Yeah, that’s a great idea.’

*

What _actually_ ended up happening was a full hour of sitting on the rooftop terrace, complete with gorgeous views, heating lamps, garden furniture and the discovery of room service so fast and so delicious that Dorian found he never wanted to leave.

‘Come _on_ ,’ Cullen said when Dorian finished off another sandwich and God _damn_ it, but why were hotel sandwiches so fucking tasty? ‘Take some pictures, It’s a lovely day! You can see the castle from here, all the pretty houses.’

Dorian nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s lovely, but it’s just landscapes.’

‘You don’t do landscapes?’

‘I prefer…’ _you._ _‘_ Living art.’

Cullen laughed and got out of his chair, hauling Dorian up in similar fashion. ‘Come on then, get your phone out.’

He backed them up close to the edge of the terrace wall, wrapping his arm around Dorian and half hugging him. Dorian’s good hand had his phone in the palm, but he faltered, suddenly surrounded by the other man’s _scent_ , by the heat of his body, the feel of his arm around him.

Oh fuck it, if Cullen wanted a selfie, Dorian would take a God damned selfie.

He lifted his phone, not bothering to play around with the focus, and reversed the camera. He raised it slightly, typical selfie pose and stared at himself, at the man in the picture, being held by Cullen with all of Prague spread out behind them. It was unreal, dreamlike and dangerous for what it struck in Dorian’s chest, a deep sense of _longing_ for it to be more than a friendly selfie, for it all to be _more_.

‘Ready?’ he asked Cullen. It was a dumb question because yeah, look at him. He was ready.

Cullen knew how to take a good selfie. He tilted his face expertly, perfect smile, no awkward leaning. As usual, Dorian took more than one, more than was necessary, tapping with the fingertip of his damaged hand. He didn't like most of them, didn’t like to see himself but he took enough that he guessed a few would be worth keeping.

‘There,’ Cullen said, turning the half-arm pose into a full on _hug_. ‘Living art. Send me your favourite one, yeah?’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, surprised. Cullen let go and headed back to the chairs. He’d never asked for any before, not the body glitter ones, not the river pictures. ‘Sure.’

*

They spent the rest of the day in the spa, having their _wellness_ seen to. There were several treatments; a steam shower to start, followed by a deeply soothing foot massage which left Dorian biting down all kinds of noises, considering Cullen was _right there_. The others were in different rooms but of _course,_ Cullen was literally right beside him. The spa was housed in a modernised but no less beautiful chapel, the heart of the monastery as it had once been. After the foot massage, there came a session of _Tian Quan_ therapy - a kind of deeply soothing scrub after sitting in herbal, delicate steam for a while - followed by an extremely thorough full body massage which left Dorian feeling boneless and blissed out. Then a facial to finish.

It was _heavenly_.

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they let the music fill the gaps. Dorian wondered if this was the kind of thing that _dude friends_ did together and then felt immediately stupid because people could do whatever the fuck they wanted. Dorian asked about who Rosalie was and Cullen explained it was his baby sister who often travelled alone, much to his deep and permanent concern, and that she would be there when they went to Corsica in a couple of days. It was pleasant chit chat, all very relaxed and shallow.

Dorian fell asleep halfway through the facial, so relaxed that his mind had decided to wander the fuck _off._ The masseuse woke up with a sweet smile and told him he was all done, nodding at Cullen who was getting up.

It was worth waking up for, seeing Cullen swathed in a dangerously low slung towel, rolling his neck and sighing like he was getting his dick sucked.

‘That was amazing,’ he groaned and suddenly, Dorian’s very own _low slung towel_ become incredibly inefficient at hiding _anything_ , especially from the kind-faced, extremely talented masseuse. She glanced down at him and smiled, not remotely perturbed. ‘Here’s your robe, sir,’ she said, easing him into a thick, white dressing gown. ‘Perhaps you’d like some water?’

Cullen was leaving the room by the time Dorian finished the water. He gave the woman a grateful smile, hoping it wasn’t an especially uncommon occurrence, and then willed his dick into fucking submission. Traitorous fucker had gone _hours_ without a bit of interest in the hands running all over Dorian’s skin, not caring about oils or sensations.

But no, Cullen _groaning_ apparently sent his favourite extremity into a fever pitch of ill-timed lust.

Fucking hell.

*

This time, Dorian saw Cullen getting ready for his _work thing_ that night. He saw what went into it, how much time and effort. He saw the outfit choices, the changes, the _makeup_. Cullen wore a tiny bit of eyeliner, a golden brown shade that just accentuated his eyes perfectly, he wore lip balm too. He wore _thumb rings,_ for fuck’s sake. He dressed himself in a t-shirt and tight fitting dark grey jeans and then laced himself into a pair of leather ankle boots

Dorian watched from the living room in between their bedrooms, from the centre of the controlled madness. Every now and then, Thom and Fenris would appear; checking in, Dorian realised, starting to notice their patterns. Leliana and Josie were in charge of pretty much everything else. Dorian couldn’t help but think that promoting sure was a brave new world, if they dressed like _that_.

‘What do you think?’ Josie asked, looking over at Dorian whose phone was charging and therefore left him with little to do besides stare at Cullen and try ( _fail_ ) to temper the wild, bittersweet pangs occasionally shooting through him.

Cullen looked at Dorian, their eyes meeting swiftly and _oh fuck_ , yeah. There it was. Cullen had gone still, perfectly highlighted eyes waiting to see what Dorian would say, waiting… for _praise._

And suddenly Dorian was back in his bedroom, the curtains drawn, pink mood lamp on and Cullen was shirtless, he was covered in body glitter. He was nervous but that didn’t stop him from doing every single thing Dorian asked, posing and moving, looking where he was told and _how_ he was told.

‘Um,’ Dorian managed eloquently, throat bobbing reflexively and causing him to swallow. It was in the air, that memory. Fuck, it was mere _days_ ago. ‘You look fantastic.’

Cullen stared intently, something softening _slightly_ in his expression but it was more like a sigh, a physical manifestation of leaning into a touch, albeit a touch born of _words_.

‘You think so?’ Josie pressed, tapping her lips. ‘We’re not so sure, would you come and help us?’

‘Josie,’ Leliana scolded flatly but Dorian was already up and out of the chair, moving towards Cullen who watched his approach, relaxed and comfortable, but with such unwavering intensity that it made Dorian’s skin prickle.

‘What aren’t you sure about? The t-shirt?’

‘Exactly,’ Josie said. ‘It looks wonderful, obviously, but there’s something not quite _right_.’

Cullen stood like a mannequin, eyes only for Dorian. For his part, Dorian tried not to make eye contact with Cullen, circling slowly, assessing the outfit. It was definitely the t-shirt. Black and charcoal grey _did_ look good together, especially with his hair, but Dorian just couldn’t help thinking he needed a hint of colour this time, something to make him pop.

‘What about something colourful, but still dark?’

Josie, who Dorian felt certain did not _need_ his input, nodded interestedly. ‘What did you have in mind?’

Not blue, not red, not grey, _never_ green. He was circling around the answer he’d already formed, ever since he saw Cullen drag the material of the soft black t-shirt over his torso.

‘What about uh, purple? Very dark.’

‘How dark?’

‘Well, like blackberry, maybe?’

Leliana attended to the racks, sliding through the purple section. Dorian had already clocked them all. ‘No, they’re not quite… _right_.’ He took a steadying breath and decided _fuck it._ ‘I actually have something he would look good in.’

Cullen’s breath caught, a tiny sharp gasp that Dorian prayed only he was close enough to hear, to almost fucking _feel_ and when he looked up at Cullen, golden brown eyes were almost eclipsed by black, pupils blown wide, lips parted ever so slightly.

‘Just to see if the colour works,’ Dorian amended quickly, but the damage was done.

‘Show us,’ Josie said easily. ‘Cullen, take the other shirt off.’

Dorian had the _distinct_ impression that Cullen didn’t want to take his t-shirt off unless it was Dorian instructing him, but he did it after a momentary pause and Dorian looked away quickly, heading for the drawers where he’d unpacked his few bits of clothing. He found it quickly, his favourite shirt. It was muted silk, three quarter length arms rolled at the curve and buttoned. It was a very dark purple and it shimmered just enough to catch the light, but otherwise it was subtle in terms of flair.

It was also a _teeny_ bit see-through, but that was only under spotlights and such as Dorian had discovered while clubbing. That wouldn’t be an issue for Cullen, though and he wasn’t going to _wear_ it anyway, it was just to see if the colour worked. That was all.

‘Here,’ he said, offering it to shirtless Cullen; beautiful, half-naked Cullen whose torso - while perfect - seemed strangely bare without all that slick, pretty glitter. Dorian remembered what Cullen had told him on the plane about bringing the glitter with him. He wondered if that was true. Probably not.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said, his voice low enough to stir something dangerously _hot_ in Dorian’s middle half.

The shirt was buttoned already and Dorian, wanting to be helpful, said, ‘Raise your arms for me,’ and Cullen of course, did exactly that. Dorian slid the shirt down, hands first, drawing the light, floaty material over him until it was fully on and Cullen was lowering his big, strong arms, staring at Dorian like he was drunk, like he was _dizzy_.

It was just a little bit tighter than it would be on Dorian, which was to be expected because Cullen clearly worked out and Dorian’s version of working out was taking the stairs if the lift was broken. The top four buttons were undone and Dorian did up just one of them because with four, well. Cullen looked like a rock star or something.

‘There,’ he said. ‘Perfect.’

It _was_ perfect, Cullen was fucking _perfect._

The colour accentuated the grey of the jeans, brought out the gold of his hair and his eyes, of his pretty, kissable lips and every inch of him that Dorian was seriously losing himself to. Losing himself to the man standing before him, dressed in _his_ shirt, brown eyes locked onto grey, gold to silver and Dorian felt a true undercurrent of fear then, beneath all that desire and lust and _need_ , because he cared for Cullen too. He cared for him and that, above all else, made such things _dangerous_.

‘I’ll send out for something in the same colour,’ Leliana said, typing swiftly on her phone after taking a picture of Cullen.

‘No,’ Cullen said, moving at last, adjusting the rolled sleeves slightly so they sat easier in the crook of his arm. ‘I’ll wear this.’

Leliana looked up from her phone, expression stormy. ‘You can’t wear _that_.’

‘Why not?’ Josie chirruped, clearly very pleased with herself. ‘He looks gorgeous.’

‘But it’s not _his_ ,’ Leliana insisted, gaze sliding onto Dorian for a moment. ‘And it’s not even designer!’

‘It’s Topman,’ Dorian put in, unable to help himself. ‘And I’ve had it for about eight years so it’s vintage too.’

Leliana _glared_. Cullen smirked, but he was all steely resolve.

‘Thank you, Dorian,’ he said, his gaze lingering just a fraction too long before he then looked over at the girls. ‘I’m wearing it.’

‘Superb!’ Josie said while Leliana muttered what sounded like death threats in French. ‘Dorian, are you coming with us for the circuit afterwards?’

And Dorian, who’d been entertaining the idea of a cold shower, blinked a few times, not having understood. ‘Circuit?’

Cullen looked between them. ‘I was uh, taking your advice,’ he explained softly. ‘About maybe going into a pub or something and just playing.’

‘Oh, right,’ Dorian said, stomach clenching but fucking God damn it all to hell, this time he was going to be cool, for his friend’s sake. ‘Fantastic idea! _Love_ it!’

_No need to overdo it, Dorian, Jesus._

‘Are you coming?’ Josie asked, sitting down at the nearby dining table and scribbling a few things on her iPad. ‘You could wait outside the arena with Thom if you prefer or we can swing by for you once we’re finished?’

Cullen frowned a little. ‘You don’t have to _at all_ ,’ he said simply, with the tone of one who fully expected Dorian to grab hold of the _out_ he offered. The thought of an arena made Dorian physically sick. The big stage, the crowd, the equipment, the _sound_. His ex leaning into the microphone and requesting from the audience a minute of their time while _he_ asked a special someone for their hand in marriage.

Maybe Dorian had paled a little, maybe it showed on his face despite his best attempts to keep it away because Cullen said, ‘Yeah, no. Definitely stay here and chill. We’re not going to be long and then when I get back, we’re having dinner.’

‘It’s a little late for dinner,’ Dorian chuckled dryly, a weak attempt to bring himself out of the dark pull of the memories.

‘We’re used to eating late,’ Leliana said, lifting her phone, taking a few pictures of Cullen who didn’t seem to notice or care. Leliana felt Dorian looking and explained, ‘It’s for security, so they know what he’s wearing.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, something occurring to him. ‘That’s why you’re…’ he gestured at Cullen’s outfit. ‘For the pub afterwards. _Right_ , yeah, that makes way more sense.’

Josie was watching Dorian with a friendly yet discerning gaze. ‘So, you’re staying?’ she prompted.

It was almost protective, the way Cullen spoke for Dorian. ‘Yeah, he’s staying.’

‘No, I’ll come.’

Cullen’s eyes widened, worry creeping into his expression. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘Not to the arena,’ Dorian clarified. ‘But I like pubs and I’d like to uh.’ _Deep breath, level up._ ‘I’d like to see you perform.’

The stare was an intense thing, it held, it _gripped_. ‘You would?’

‘Yeah, of course. You’re my friend.’ Just like Cullen took an interest in Dorian’s weekly whim that was photography, so Dorian could do the same. Pubs were loud by nature and he probably wouldn’t be able to hear much anyway. It would be fine.

_It would be fine._

‘Lovely,’ Josie said. ‘We’ll send a car for you and meet at the venue once we’re done.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday's chapter: Cullen's 'little' performance, Leliana's thwarted attempt to have a Frank Conversation with Dorian and Fenris being a good bro (he is the best bro).


	9. You Walk in the Room (And The World Stops to Stare)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a super quick note to thank everyone SO MUCH! I had a pretty negative week and your comments and kindness were genuinely all that got me through. I will be updating twice weekly for the next couple of weeks as I don't need to slow my pace down so much now. I'm not gonna reiterate warnings or apologise for how I write, but if you don't like it, please don't read it. There's a reason I moderate comments, that's all I'll say.   
> ANYWAY! Glittery Friday is here and I hope you all enjoy! Fuck it, if you liked this chapter enough I might post the next one tomorrow! 💜💜💜

Dorian spent his first half hour without Cullen on the phone with Lana, her Irish accent painting a vivid picture of the disasters she'd gotten into in his absence.

‘ _So I told him, I said, I_ _’m not disposable and you can’t just_ take a break _from me, you fucking piece of shit!_ _’_

‘Right.’

‘ _And then he had the audacity to fucking laugh in my face!_ _’_

‘Is that when you kneed him in the bollocks?’

_‘No,_ that _was when he said he was gonna ghost me and post the pictures I sent him.’_

‘Did you delete them?’

_‘Of course I did. Snatched his phone while he was crying, deleted them, then posted pictures of his own dick to his family chat and his sad little_ Boy’s Banter _group. Then I threw his phone in the Thames._ _’_

‘That’s my girl. But then he involved the police?’

_‘Yeah,’_ she said, her sigh rattling down the phone.

‘Are they charging you?’

_‘No. They said if he presses charges, that’ll be a whole other thing, but really, he just wanted his phone back. I lied and said he lost it. Hard to prove cos the whole thing happened outside that McDonald’s drive-thru near the river, y’know?’_

‘The one with the really clean toilets?’

_‘Yeah. There’s no CCTV outside.’_

‘Lana, were you fucking him by the river before all this happened?’

_‘Of course! That’s when he said he wanted a break from me and everything went fucking tits up! Anyway,’_ she sniffed sadly, Sarah McLachlan playing in the background. _‘What’s happening in Prague? I haven’t told anyone by the way. Sera made me promise on all my streaks that I wouldn’t, even though I’m dying to.’_

‘You and your fucking streaks.’

_‘That’s years’ worth of friendship. If I lose them, I think I might actually die.’_

‘Years’ worth of being a Snapchat addicted loser, darling.’

_‘Fuck you, at least I_ have _a Snapchat! Who doesn_ _’t have a Snapchat? There’s little old ladies shopping in Sainsbury’s who’ve got more craic than you!’_

‘Bit uncalled for, love.’

_‘Come on, tell me about Prague! I miss you, what are you doing right now? Not in a sexy way, though, urgh.’_

‘Prague is… very cool. I saw the river and the castle. The hotels are amazing, I’m in a huge suite and we spent most of the day in the spa.’

_‘What about absinthe? What about strip clubs?’_

‘I have had zero absinthe and we’re not going to the kinds of places where people strip.’

_‘Yeah, no, I thought as much,’ she said ruefully. ‘Just, you never know. He could be one of those who lets loose and goes wild. How is…’_ she paused, the kind that Dorian had come to know as the _Don_ _’t Talk About Music Stuff_ pause. _‘Cullen’s work?’_

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ he answered blandly. ‘It’s only a couple of hours a night and I just stay in the hotel.’

_‘Fucking wish I had tickets,’_ she muttered.

‘You’re not coming here,’ he said sternly, dreading the idea of his darling, beloved, adored best friend queueing in Gatwick, clutching an airline ticket. Though in all fairness, who used _tickets_ anymore?

_‘Yeah, yeah, I got it. No trashy friends around the glowy one. Can we hang out when you get back, though? He could make more Tad Pie!’_

‘Pad thai?’

_‘Yeah, that was so good!’_

‘If you’re not serving three to six months for GBH and or theft, we’ll arrange something.’

_‘Quality. All right, well I’ve got to go, Sera’s accusing me of nicking her work bra. Love ya!’_

Dorian smiled as she hung up, more than used to her abrupt departures and he stared at the home-screen of his phone. He fully expected to have no messages to read because the only two people who had this number had both already spoken to him earlier and were now off out together for their version of fun and borderline shenanigans. No one else had the number, except… wait.

A little message icon, the _text message_ one.

Intrigued, though half expecting it to be a discount code for _Domino's_ , he opened it and frowned at the short message from an unknown sender.

**Fenris gave me your number, hope that** **’s OK. This is Cullen by the way x**

Dorian stared at it, stared _hard_. He found it hopelessly cute that Cullen had reiterated it was him, as if Dorian knew anyone else on the planet named fucking _Fenris_ who would dish out his number. He couldn’t suppress the slight thrill of something dangerously similar to excitement that Cullen was messaging Dorian, but it was the little _x_ at the end that had him in a stranglehold of fascination. He’d put a kiss. Men _never_ put kisses to other men. Well, Dorian’s ex had never. Previous male friends had never. Both Lana and Sera religiously put three, two when annoyed, one when on the verge of an argument and then none when the argument broke out. It was like a countdown system, but they were _girls_.

The message had come through only minutes ago.

He replied.

_Oh, OK, cool! That_ _’s fine, good to have it, I guess! x_

He stared at the message, wishing he didn’t second guess the x to such an extent. What in the actual fuck was wrong with him? It was a letter of the alphabet, it meant _nothing_. He waited for the reply, tapping the back of the phone with his good hand, which was hot from all that time wedged against his ear. Cullen was probably too busy to reply anyway, it was just one of those messages where the message itself was to give the other person the number. For emergencies or for like, rent purposes because _technically_ , Dorian was still his landlord, despite the ridiculous scenario he found himself in at that moment.

The message came through as he was about to give up and change his outfit again, excited to check the rack of gorgeous things.

**There** **’s a delay, some security issue. I’m so bored. What are you up to? x**

Oh, the last five words.

Dorian was well versed with those words. Had seen them thousands of times, the implication clear and present from men who’d wanted one thing and one thing only.

But with Cullen, he suspected it might just be genuine.

_Bored and considering changing outfits. Security issue? Hope all is OK. Fenris will prob enjoy killing anyone dodgy._

**The outfit you had on when we left was lovely. Not sure what the issue is. I** **’m sat in a room with Josie and Lee waiting for it to be sorted. Hope it doesn’t cause any delays for us picking you up. I know it’ll be late, but are you still on for dinner? x**

_I think you_ _’re at least half Spanish, you eat so late!_

**Force of habit, I** **’m afraid. Corsica will be different. It’s all during the day so evenings will be free. I’m really excited for you to meet Rosalie. Xxx**

Dorian sat up on the bed, holding the phone, heart fucking _pounding_.

‘He’s upped the kisses,’ he said aloud, sounding like an absolute twat and not remotely able to care. _‘Fuck_.’

It was fine though. It would be fine. Dorian knew a way out of it, a road to safe return.

_Yeah, me too. Hope she has some embarrassing big brother stories to share!_

He then proceeded to swamp Cullen with emojis depicting increasingly hilarious laughter. Meanwhile he sat on the side of his bed, ankles banging anxiously against the base, expression grim and terrified.

**Knowing her, she** **’ll have a few. You don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to, honestly. Xxx**

Fuck.

_No, I want to come, I promise._

The three smiley emojis he added now gave him the vague aura of being manically happy or possibly a psycho and Dorian had never been less in sync with a fucking emoji in his life.

**As long as you** **’re sure xxx**

Oh, there was no hiding this time. It was fight or flight, do or die.

_I_ _’m sure, trust me x_

Dorian regretted it as soon as he hit send. He waited, sick and sweaty, for the reply. When he saw it, his heart sank, the relief nowhere near enough to counter the completely irrational guilt that threatened to eat him alive.

**I trust you. See you there then. Have a great evening. X**

*

It was Thom who swung by the hotel in a town car, not Fenris. Dorian had changed clothes three times and his teeth were chattering lightly in the cold Prague air. He slid across the leather seat and breathed in the scent of new car smell, foreign radio playing low in the background, warmth surrounding him when he closed the door.

‘Hi Thom,’ he greeted, his stomach a ball of snakes.

‘Dorian,’ Thom said in his deep, steady voice. ‘All ready to go?’

‘As I’ll ever be. Did the security issue get cleared up?’ he asked as they pulled out onto the main roads. ‘Cullen’s OK?’

‘He’s fine. Just a minor issue with the staff. No big delay. You look nice.’

Dorian looked at himself, chewing on his bottom lip. ‘I do?’

‘I think so.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Feeling all right, son?’

‘A bit nervous.’

‘Yeah, that’s understandable,’ Thom said evenly, making a left turn into the town. ‘It’ll be low key, but still, Fenris said you don’t like music.’

‘Mmm,’ Dorian agreed tightly, staring out of the windows, fingers from his hand that was set in a thin cast tapping on his knee.

‘I don’t like it much either,’ Thom said. ‘Prefer art, myself. Cullen was telling me you’re a photographer.’

Mildly shocked, Dorian looked away from the window. ‘He what?’

‘Said you’re very good. If you ever want to do a show or anything, let me know. My wife’s brother runs those things. Showcases where there’s wine and champagne and everyone looks at the pictures sideways.’

‘I’m not…’ his throat closed up slightly, unsure of what to say. ‘I haven’t shown him anything, really.’

Thom nodded like he understood. ‘He likes you. Not seen him like anyone new in a long time.’

Digging his fingers from his good hand into the meat of his thigh, Dorian forced himself to be neutral. ‘You’ve been a part of his security team for a while then?’

‘Three years, but I knew him before. Not as a friend, you understand. I was the bouncer at the pub he worked in as a lad.’

‘Do pubs have bouncers?’

‘This one did. I wore plain clothes, sat at the bar and drank lemonades all day, but after what happened to his face.’ There, Thom shook his head, sighing. ‘After that, I did what I could to make sure it never happened again. He’s a good man, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘And he likes you a lot. Didn’t stop talking about you the whole way to the arena.’

‘Are we… uh, are we nearly there?’

‘Just up here on the left. I’ll drop you a little bit ahead, circle round a few times. The others are inside, just head for the bar.’

‘Thanks, Thom.’

True to his word, the older man pulled up ahead of the pub, the dull thumping sounds of Irish music and some atrociously pitched singing hitting Dorian’s senses as soon as he stepped out.

Well, at least it didn't _sound_ like actual music.

He could feel Thom watching him, waiting. With effort and a deep breath that did precisely fuck all to steady his nerves, he made himself go inside.

The place was heaving; men and women of varying ages, but most of them in their thirties. It was a classic pub; dark and wooden, the smell of beer entrenched into the carpets and all around, a sense of unearned jollity. Karaoke night in such a place certainly seemed to draw a crowd. The lights were low to create an _atmosphere_ and the stage boasted a mic stand and a chair for those who felt the need to especially play it up.

The woman currently caterwauling to ‘ _Nights in White Satin_ _’_ had her eyes closed, one arm flung out as she held the note poorly, voice wobbling instead of affecting vibrato.

He scouted around for a tall, golden head, heart clenching when he couldn’t see Cullen, couldn’t see anyone familiar. Oh _God_ , what if they’d left? 

‘Dorian!’

Someone grabbed his good hand; delicate fingers and a cheery, accented voice. He turned, smiling shakily. Josie looked even more casually beautiful than before, wearing jeans, converse and a mermaid coloured sequin top that shimmered in the low lights.

‘There you are!’ she said excitedly. ‘We’ve been waiting for you!’

She led him expertly through the crowd. ‘You have?’

‘Of course! He didn’t want to do it without you here!’ Josie was leading him to a table around the other side of the bar, a place where the ceiling was lower and the distance from the main attraction meant that it was quieter.

There at a pub table sat Cullen and Fenris, nursing a pair of cokes. Cullen had his head in his hands again while it looked like Fenris was lecturing him about something. Leliana was nearby, having a stern chat with a fairly hypnotized bartender who might have been the manager. 

‘I found him!’ Josie declared, releasing Dorian into the wild and immediately giving all her attention to her phone which was, in all fairness, blowing up.

Cullen looked up so quickly it was almost _funny_. The relief in his features struck a chord deep in Dorian’s chest, a minor key of things too risky to examine. He was _relieved_ Dorian was there and Dorian… he didn’t quite know what to do with that.

_Thank God you_ _’re here, babe_ , his ex had said that night, relief and excitement in all his features. _Couldn_ _’t do the show without you_.

Yeah, no shit.

Dorian shook it all away and focused. ‘Hey,’ he said, smiling at Fenris and Cullen, looking around and trying to remember how to be a human being. Over the top of Dorian’s shirt, Cullen wore a zip-up Superdry hoodie and he was using it to hide. ‘So, this place is… nice.’

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the commotion from the bridge of a Moody Blues song that was most _definitely_ not intended to be sung in such a way. Cullen got to his feet like a Regency era gentleman and for one heart-stopping moment, it looked like he was going to hug Dorian or… or…

‘You made it,’ he said, failing to style the aborted movement out into anything remotely convincing. ‘Journey OK? Thom dropped you off all right?’

‘No,’ Dorian laughed, Cullen’s nerves easing his own. ‘We got lost and I’m still in the car while he circles around, refreshing Google maps.’

Cullen grinned. ‘The cheek of you.’

Fenris got to his feet, greeting Dorian with his customary wry smile and slightly raised eyebrow. ‘You look very nice.’

‘Thanks. How did your, uh. How did it go?’

Cullen seemed to have only just realised what Dorian was wearing. His eyes travelled down over the outfit, following the trail of buttons down the front of the crimson shirt, landing solidly on his trousers and sticking there.

‘You’re wearing the leather trousers.’

Fenris chuckled. ‘ _The_ leather trousers?’

‘Oh, yeah, I just thought it would be…’ _Funny? A laugh? Liar._ ‘I grabbed them by accident, I think.’ _Big fat liar._

‘You look incredible.’

Dorian laughed nervously. ‘Thanks.’

Leliana swept over. ‘Hello, Dorian.’ She gave him a polite nod and Cullen shook himself slightly. ‘Manager says he’ll quietly close the doors for two songs. Is everyone ready?’

‘I think so,’ Josie said, lifting her phone in a way that indicated strongly she was either about to snap a picture or record video. ‘I take it Dorian doesn’t want to be in the walk up?’

‘What’s a walk up?’

‘Exactly what it sounds like,’ Fenris said, indicating to Josie and the phone. ‘We’re doing a live stream.’

Dorian’s throat bobbed. ‘A fucking _live stream?_ To whom?’

‘Well,’ Josie said, looking down at the phone. We estimate about six or seven—’

‘Can we just do it, please?’ Cullen cut across as Fenris collected his guitar from the corner, holding it for him. Dorian felt instantly bad for questioning it. Though he wanted to very _gently_ point out that doing a live stream for seven people wasn’t really worth it, he was going to be supportive _no matter fucking what_ this time.

Leliana was quick to agree. ‘Yes, the less time spent socialising in this place, the better.’

‘Stay behind me,’ Fenris offered to Dorian. ‘You won’t be in any of the shots.’

Cullen was staring ahead at the stage. He didn’t seem _nervous_ exactly, but he was a little bit rigid. Leliana stood beside him, surprising Dorian when she took his hand, rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and murmured something to him, too low to be heard. He smiled softly and nodded, squeezing once before letting go.

‘All right,’ he said, looking at Dorian. ‘Are you ready?’

‘I… yes,’ Dorian said quickly, smiling warmly. ‘You’ll be great.’

They moved into a kind of procession, Cullen at the front, Leliana and Josie to the side. Fenris moved Dorian behind him and Josie started her live stream. Dorian could see the screen, the flashing red dot indicating recording. The shot was a little blurry, the room too dark for any kind of decent HD, but the angle was good. Cullen at the front, though obscured by the hoodie, and the packed room ahead.

The song finally ended and the woman received a round of very friendly cheers and claps. From behind the bar, the manager spoke into another mic, his voice amplified massively.

‘All right, all right, thank you very much… _Cheryl_ , for that lovely rendition of _Nights in White Satin_ by the Moody Blues. OK guys, we actually have a bit of a surprise performance coming up next,’ he announced to more cheers and lukewarm clapping. ‘Let’s give a big, Wolf’s Rest welcome to our next singer, who’s going to be playing a couple of his own songs for us.’

Cullen was already walking, Leliana and Josie following and Fenris, who carried his guitar, brought up the rear with Dorian at his side. The clapping was polite at best and Dorian’s nerves for Cullen were a manic fucking harpsichord of anxiety. Cullen hopped up onto the stage and Josie moved back, panning wider, Leliana looking over her shoulder at someone behind the bar, a young woman. The woman began taking pictures on her phone, minus the flash.

‘Hey everyone,’ Cullen said into the microphone and oh God, Dorian was going to fucking _pass out_ because what was he doing, sounding all confident and professional, when they were probably just going to laugh at him, fuck, fuck, _fuck_. ‘I thought I’d drop by and sing a little bit for you, what do you think?’

But no one was laughing.

It was weird and Dorian was sure his nerves were affecting his ability to properly _see_ , but it seemed like some of the younger people _recognised_ him when he slid his hood down. They were frozen, eyes wide and jaws slack, nudging each other in the seconds before they began to clap wildly, to cheer and yell and even scream a bit. The reaction was contagious, it spread across the whole place, catching like wildfire and Dorian was _certain_ now that he was hallucinating.

Cullen took the hoodie off completely, dropping it neatly to the floor, revealing Dorian’s shirt, revealing his beautiful fucking _self_ and the place was going wild. Fenris gently touched Dorian’s wrist and bade him stay while he handed Cullen his guitar.

The bartender said, ‘ _Cullen Rutherford, everyone_!’ and the noise exploded, simply _erupted_ like England had won the fucking world cup.

Cullen was smiling like it was easy, like he was used to it. He settled onto the stool, strumming a little and a thick, dense hush fell over the pub, leaving Dorian’s ears ringing slightly from the previous cacophony.

There was no backup music, no instrumental assistance from the karaoke machine. Cullen and his guitar and a room packed with people, most of whom had their phones lifted, recording him.

Dorian was… astonished, he was half-mesmerised by it. Cullen was beautiful, no denying it, but… to earn such a reaction?

Then Cullen started singing and Dorian forgot about everything else.

_‘Oh, I can tell you the time and I know little things, little things that would make you smile. If I’m asked what’s the way to the place by the river, we can walk there for a while.’_

The world narrowed abruptly, like being pulled into a black hole. Dorian’s attention was fully taken prisoner, felt his emotional range _wrenched_ into the song Cullen was playing and singing to; something more upbeat than the song he’d written for his daughter. It was emotional and it was oddly _moving._

_‘I know two or three jokes, and they’re good but they’re hollow. I know dates and I know facts, but where they lead, I just follow.’_

It must have been a cover of something because began to sing along and Cullen smiled, encouraging it.

_‘But baby if you show me your colours… paint me a rainbow like no other, then I’ll… be… yours.’_

The atmosphere was unlike anything Dorian had ever seen in a pub before. It was more like a fucking _concert_. The chorus came and yeah, it was a cover. It was one hundred percent a cover because at least fifteen people from the crowd were singing the lyrics right along with him.

‘ _It’s in your smile, pretty girl, it’s in your eyes I see the world. It’s all the words I can’t ignore, places I’ve never been before.’_

Dorian could feel himself breathing shallow, his body caught up in the song. He hadn’t allowed that sensation for a long time. He was sweating, his skin was prickling.

The song ended with a flourish of guitar strings and Cullen smiled so brightly it made Dorian’s stomach flip. The blond was _basking_ in it, no nerves, no hint of unease. People started to applaud, to cheer loudly, but he began another song and they quieted like an assembly of raucous children under the gaze of a mean headmaster. The second song was slower, was poignant.

Cullen’s _voice_ _…_ fucking hell, his voice was amazing. It was soft yet strong, perfect pitch and tone and the way he sang the words, something Dorian was _sure_ was his own creation that time, it had Dorian believing every single part of it. So emotional, so _beautiful_.

_Fuck_.

Josie filmed the whole thing, careful to keep the focus on Cullen even when she occasionally dipped into the front rows of the standing crowd, all of whom kept their distance respectfully. No one was singing along this time which gave Dorian yet more confidence that it was his _own_ song.

_‘Snow falling on the windowsill and I won’t run outside because it’s not fun to be alone. It’s always the changes that catch me off-guard and it’s always hardest to sleep in a quiet home.’_

The hush throughout the pub was astonishing. A deep well of rapt silence and devour attention. Even some of the older patrons who didn’t seem especially interested, even they were respectfully quiet.

And Cullen played for them all, played like it was an _arena_. A fucking live lounge session.

_‘There are a million tiny things in the air and all around me. Each one’s a pretty little moment, caught and frozen just for me. But when I try to catch them, hold them close, make them stay, they always melt away. They’re not meant to last and I should know by now… that lovely things aren’t meant to be.’_

When the song finished that time, there was a drop of silence that followed and in that drop, Dorian felt his heart miss a beat because he was still in the song, still in the sad story, the words and music Cullen had used to captivate him. He was still _in it_ and maybe the audience were too because that beat of silence seemed to stretch on forever.

Until it broke, until the room filled with _thunderous_ applause. With people whistling and screaming, clapping with their hands above their head, jumping up and down. Dorian saw that a group of girls were crying, fucking _crying_ and hugging each other.

‘Thanks so much,’ Cullen said into the microphone, getting to his feet and smiling that easy smile. ‘Have a great night.’

*

The bartender had, very kindly, let them exit the back way, heading behind the bar and into the staff-only areas. Josie kept right on filming and so Dorian stayed behind Fenris who seemed tense, watching everyone who came anywhere near Cullen, lifting his hand occasionally to warn people back.

And Dorian… he was in _shock_. In the back room, a place that smelled of damp bricks and stale beer, a couple of Czech bar tenders nervously asked Cullen for his autograph. His fucking _autograph_. And Cullen gave it like a pro, smiled and asked their names, something about the whole interaction reminding Dorian of the first time he’d met Sera and Lana. He chatted pleasantly with them, casually. It was jaw-dropping.

Josie filmed the whole thing, streamed it all to however many people were watching. Leliana didn't trouble herself to stay out of the shot, but Fenris did. He watched the doors, he kept an eye on the exits and he kept Cullen well within reach.

Back in the bar, they were _still_ cheering.

‘Cullen,’ Fenris prompted quietly. 

Cullen nodded and finished up with the autographs.

‘Can we get a picture, _please_?’ the bar staff requested, all shaky and shocked and so very excited.

‘Sure,’ Cullen said, but Fenris was decidedly not happy about it. He shared a glance with Leliana who seemed to understand.

‘I’ll take it,’ she offered, holding the phone as the bar staff crowded around Cullen, hugging him and he _hugged them right back_. She took several shots and then handed the phone to its owner. ‘Let’s go.’

It was a swift exit out of the kitchen, into the side alley where the town car was waiting. Fenris stayed behind Cullen, but he was closer now, close enough to grab if necessary. When a bottle smashed somewhere nearby, he moved alongside Cullen, taking the guitar from his hands. Dorian felt unexpectedly worried, Fenris’s concern bleeding into him.

Only once they were all in the vehicle, minus Fenris who was apparently following them in another car, did Dorian let himself relax.

‘That was amazing!’ Josie was saying, face up lit by her screen. Leliana sat up front with Thom, speaking to someone on her phone in a serious voice. She sounded just a little bit _smug_. ‘They _loved_ it!’

‘Yeah, it was fun,’ Cullen said easily, casually, but this close, Dorian could see - physically _see_ \- how hard his heart was beating, saw the tiny movements beneath Dorian’s own shirt. ‘What did you think?’

He turned his full attention to Dorian who felt it like a physical impact, words becoming horribly _stuck_.

‘Uh, it was… it was incredible,’ he said honestly, because it _was_.

Cullen’s smile was soft and true, fragile with gently blossoming hope. ‘Really?’ Cullen was in the middle, sat between Josie and Dorian but his whole body was entirely swerved towards Dorian. He took his hand, the one with the fucking _cast_ and held it gently. ‘You liked it?’

Cullen’s pupils were _blown_ , wide and dark, he was breathing rapidly and he had a light sheen of sweat over his brow. It was almost like he was high, like he was _drunk_ from singing, from performing.

‘I couldn’t look away,’ Dorian said instead of saying he liked it because that… that would _not_ be completely true. While he liked Cullen’s music, he didn't like what it did to him, didn't like the feelings it evoked; dangerous feelings that had to be _contained_ and caged. ‘You had the attention of the whole room, me included.’

Cullen blinked slowly, like he was a little bit _dazed._ Subtly, Josie glanced over at them smiling and shaking her head, fingers flying over the keypad without needing to see.

And Dorian knew he should stop, should most definitely _stop_ praising him because Cullen had a praise kink a mile wide and it was a _very_ cramped car, but he couldn’t stop himself.

‘You were just so _good_ ,’ he said and Cullen shivered, actually _shivered_. ‘Everyone loved you, everyone wanted more.’

_I loved you, I wanted more._

‘It was like they were hanging on every word, they were all under your spell. You were perfect. I’m so…’ _fuck, don_ _’t say it_. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Cullen’s eyes went _wide_ , his lips parted to draw in a sharp, jagged breath but he didn't say anything. Josie was pretending to be very, _very_ busy and Leliana turned halfway to stare, but Dorian couldn’t make himself look at her, could not wrench his gaze away from Cullen. Cullen who was shaking slightly, whose adrenaline had clearly riled him up a fair bit, whose gaze was locked onto Dorian, who was still _holding his hand_ , albeit the fucked up one.

Dorian swallowed and nodded. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he repeated, for the whole car to hear if they wanted. It was true. ‘You’re amazing.’

They stared at each other as the car made a path through Prague and Leliana finally turned back around, shaking her head.

‘Hmm,’ Josie commented casually. ‘Maybe I’ll open a window. Hot in here.’

*

‘Yeah, I’ll be two minutes and then I’ll help you!’ Dorian called out over his shoulder, practically running through the suite to get to the bathroom. Cullen’s voice rang out behind him, asking if he was OK. ‘Yep, just need to pee!’

Dorian made it into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, not daring to waste time fiddling with the lock.

He couldn’t breathe. His airways were screwed tight, it was like trying to suck air through a straw. On shaking legs he stumbled to the sink, running the tap out of habit to cover any noises he might be about to make.

Palms down on the marble of the countertop, he tried to steady himself, not chancing a glance into the back-lit mirror, didn’t want to see the _mess_ that he was.

A worryingly lightheaded sensation was taking over when the door opened and closed rapidly. He didn’t look up to see who it was, couldn’t really do much beyond stand there, leaning heavily on the sink.

‘Listen to me,’ Leliana said. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but you and I are going to have a very frank discussion about—what’s wrong with you?’

Dorian shook his head, eyes firmly shut. ‘I just need a minute.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, trying to sound cheery and instead it came out broken, fractured by stress and emotion. To his absolute, never ending _horror_ , he started crying.

‘Oh for—come on.’

A pair of firm hands wrapped around his upper arms and led him away from the sink, bearing his weight when he stumbled. She plonked him down on the closed seat of the toilet, shoving his head between his legs as she knelt in front of him.

‘Breathe slow,’ Leliana instructed. ‘Breathe with me, are you ready?’

Dorian was not ready, but he tried anyway.

‘In… and then out again, very good. In… and out, everything is fine.’ She paused and said, in a more normal way. ‘Everything _is_ fine, Dorian.’

He shook his head miserably, one hand sliding up to clutch at his hair. The light-headedness was fading at least, sensation returning to his extremities but now he just felt deeply, powerfully _sick_.

‘Do you want me to go get him?’

‘No. Please.’

‘All right. All right, no problem. You just stay there and breathe while I sit on the floor of a bathroom like some kind of _junkie_ out of _Trainspotting_.’

The acidic tone made him laugh, tears dripping off the end of his nose.

‘You’ve never seen _Trainspotting_.’

‘I bet they sit on bathroom floors.’

‘Not often.’

‘Keep breathing. Slow and deep, I know you know the method, come on.’

‘How do _you_ know it?’

‘Cullen used to have panic attacks too.’

Dorian fell silent, trying to imagine confident, calm, self-assured, _talented_ , wonderful Cullen… sat on a toilet while a woman who didn’t even like him reminded him how to breathe.

‘It’s not a panic attack.’

‘OK.’

‘What’s the frank discussion then?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You came in to tell me you and I were about to have a frank discussion.’

‘Oh, right. Well, it can wait.’

Dorian sat up a little, wiping his eyes. ‘No, let’s have it now.’

‘I was angry. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters to me,’ Dorian said, taking a deep breath and meeting her gaze. ‘Come on.’

Leliana’s concern, which was thankfully mild at best, faded entirely, a thoughtful expression coming over her.

‘Very well. Do you know why we agreed to let Cullen have a roommate?’

‘Because of the…’ Dorian gestured vaguely. ‘The break-ins. He wanted to feel safe.’

Leliana huffed slightly. ‘If he wanted to feel _safe,_ he could have come and lived with Fenris or me or even Josie. No, he wanted a clean break and he wanted a little bit of independence from us, from the business. The reason we agreed to it, or that _I_ agreed to it was because he’s overdue to release a new…’ she bit off abruptly, coming to a problematic word perhaps. ‘He’s overdue on some work that needs turning in. He was meant to have this _work_ done four months ago and his bosses, such as they are, have been patient. There were break-ins, he was and still _is_ being stalked by someone. He went through hell with Madeline and she’s still causing him problems, denying him visitation to Sophia.’ Leliana shook her head, worry clouding her eyes. ‘He was _low_ to say the least when he said he wanted a roommate, just wanted to feel normal and have someone be there sometimes, someone who didn’t care about any of the _business_ stuff. We agreed to work with him, despite how incredibly problematic it is for us, because we love him. We love him and he’s been through a lot in his life, believe me.’

‘I can tell you love him,’ Dorian said quietly, sitting up fully.

‘He wanted a little bit of normality and for the sake of his stability, for his happiness, we bent to his requests. First and foremost, I am Cullen’s _friend_ , you understand. We grew up together, he, Fenris and I. We know everything about him.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So you’ll know I speak with authority when I tell you, Dorian, that he’s fallen hard for you.’

And just like that, _there_ went the air again. There went his lungs, his hard won ability to exist.

There it all went.

Because _no_.

_No fucking way._

‘No,’ he denied through numb lips, blinking slow. ‘No, that’s not. No.’

‘Believe me, it’s not what I would have chosen for him either. He’s not made any progress on his work, he’s distracted and wherever we go, I feel that he’s going to want you to come along from now on. You’re a distraction to him, there’s no denying it. _But_ maybe you’re not a bad one. He deserves to be happy.’ Her sharp, somewhat terrifying gaze lifted to his, searching and seeking. ‘Could you make him happy? Could you be what he needs? I’m not so sure.’

‘We’re friends.’

‘Case in point,’ she sighed. ‘You’re not especially bright.’

Dorian was too tired to be insulted, too embarrassed from having _cried_ in front of her while she sat on the floor of a very nice bathroom.

‘We’re just friends.’

‘So, you don’t feel the same then? Because if you don’t, make it _clear_ , please. I saw the way he looked at you when you said you were proud of him. I know him. If you don’t like him that way, then make it clear. He’s the last guy in the world to get nasty about it, will be your friend regardless because I think he really does love you and that wouldn’t just _vanish_ if you didn’t want him back, but don’t toy with him.’

‘I’m _not_.’

‘You’re pushing to see how far you can take it,’ she said, brow lifting, gaze steady. ‘I know you’ve been through shit, that’s very clear, but so has he.’

‘He’s not into me.’

‘Dorian, come on.’

‘Look, he’s… he’s just nice. And we get along really well.’

‘Say you’re not into him, then.’

‘I’m… I’m not into him.’

Leliana sighed, resigned. ‘Fuck. Well, sadly there are some corners of the universe where my interference is limited.’

He heard it in his head, _he’s fallen hard for you_ , but it just couldn’t be real. It wouldn’t sink in, couldn’t.

No, she was wrong. She was completely wrong.

‘Uh, thanks for this,’ he said awkwardly, not knowing where to go from there.

She pushed up from the floor, brushing herself off.

‘Just be careful, that’s all I’m asking. See you out there.’

*


	10. And When They Push You, Stand As Stone (Braver Still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise One-Day-Later Update! 
> 
> Dedicating this chapter to Dread_Wolfsies and everyone who left me lovely, kind, thoughtful comments.  
> This has a bit more angst in it than usual but I hope you still enjoy! 💜💜💜

Dorian had never made sushi in his life. The process was undeniably fun and messy, but the best part was that everyone got involved. One of Leliana’s hired assistants had gone shopping during the evening and procured a range of foods with which to make homemade sushi. The four of them worked at the dining room table together with a range of store-bought knives, cutting boards and specialised cutlery as well as rolling mats.

Thom was absent, likely making the rounds, but Fenris was there with Josie and Leliana, sleeves rolled up, helping Cullen with whatever was asked of him.

And Cullen was in his element.

When Dorian emerged from the bathroom, face splashed with cold water, determined to pull himself the fuck _together_ , Cullen had clearly noticed right away that something was wrong. He’d been about to enquire, but Dorian beat him to the punch, asking what they were doing and then digging right in to help.

‘Is this pre-made rice?’

‘Of course,’ Josie laughed, using the bamboo mats to roll her creation tightly.

‘Best the girl could do in a pinch,’ Leliana added, carefully spreading rice over her seaweed. ‘This is a tuna roll, right?’

Cullen looked over, busy doing the bulk of the work. ‘Yes, that’s going to be tuna roll with sweet peppers. Here, I just chopped some.’

Dorian watched them interact, watched their easy way of being together. Watched them make dinner like a family, laughing and occasionally lobbing vegetables at one another. It was all very wholesome, almost annoyingly so. The vestiges of the panic attack remained in his system, his patience just a tiny bit frayed but he knew that there was no _reason_ to be annoyed. These were lovely people, even Leliana. Lovely, decent, talented, well-rounded people.

Fenris and Josie were bickering playfully, taking the process less seriously than Cullen and Leliana. Dorian’s role was in adding vegetables in a neat line. He remained quiet, able to work and simply watch the rest of them.

He watched Josie throw a tip of a red pepper high in the air towards Fenris and the platinum blond caught it in his mouth like a trained seal. The other chuckled, Josie clapping, but Cullen and Leliana had obviously seen it before.

He watched how Cullen effortlessly ensured that at least half of all the sushi was vegetarian for Josie. How the man always made sure to include Dorian at every turn by asking what he liked, if there was anything he didn’t like.

When it was done, they sat together at the big, beautiful table sometime around midnight and ate what they’d made.

It was fucking delicious, of course it was.

Cullen sat beside Dorian and sometimes their knees brushed together. Once, when he was laughing at Fenris retelling a story of Cullen’s first girlfriend, he put his hand on Dorian’s forearm, like he was steadying himself, but his thumb moved over the skin there. A couple of easy, soft swipes back and forth, before he removed it again. The skin there felt _branded_ by the mark, the incident stacking up on the ever climbing list of _Things Cullen Did That Drove Dorian Crazy_. It was hard to ignore, harder still to equate the touch to something Sera or Lana would have given him.

_He's fallen hard for you._

Yes, very difficult to ignore.

And see, once upon a time, Dorian had been in possession of good instincts. Had been the kind of man who was savvy, street smart. Who could take one look at a person and _know_ them, inside and out. He’d trusted himself, trusted his own senses because they had never steered him wrong.

Then those instincts had failed him completely, with his ex. With the man whose name it still hurt to even recall, his instincts had completely fucked up. Hadn’t realised he was in hot water until it was boiling all around him, until the other man was gutting him publicly. 

There were no phones at the table, no one checked them while they ate, not even Fenris. Dorian noticed he wore the same black wrist device – that they all wore them, in fact - but aside from those, it was a technology free affair.

They spoke of only pleasant things, _cheerful_ things and it was almost possible for Dorian to banish his dark thoughts, the ever-present tremor of anxiety. He managed to _appear_ happy, at least. They didn’t talk about the show and Dorian knew he was the reason why. Everything they discussed was _safe_. It was Dorian Approved and again, Dorian’s nerves grated because of it.

He felt like a stranger in the scene, no matter how much Cullen involved him, how much they all involved him. There was no logical reason to feel like a fucking ghoul at the feast, but Dorian did. The happiness he exuded was not only false, but painfully unearned.

It built and it _built_ and he ate sushi all the while, smile hurting his cheeks.

*

‘Hey, you OK?’

Dorian was very, _very_ busy leaning on the balcony. It was an important job, a thing that required all his attention and he was giving it his best, he really was.

‘Yeah, fine.’

Cullen came to stand beside him, forearms resting against the smooth stone of the balcony. Prague lay before them, resplendent and glittering by night, the castle up ahead illuminated perfectly. It was a lovely thing, that view. Dorian knew he was in the kind of hotel where if he wanted a pizza, they would order it and bring it up to their room. He was in a place he’d never been before where money was no object, where exciting things happened and all his interactions were with people who were at the top of their game.

‘No, actually,’ he said, voice shaking. ‘No, I’m sorry but… Cullen, what am I doing here?’

Cullen didn’t look at him, just stared out at the landscape of lights among darkness, but Dorian saw him swallow.

‘I wanted you to come with me.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re my friend.’

‘We’ve known each other weeks, not even a month.’

‘That doesn’t mean you’re not my friend.’

‘You said my being here was one of your conditions for coming on this trip. What did that mean?’

‘Dorian, I just wanted you to come with me. There doesn’t have to be a reason—’

‘Was it because you felt sorry for me?’

‘No.’

‘Because I’m a big boy, OK? You don’t need to treat me like a charity case. I got fired, so what? It’s not even being fired when you’re zero fucking hours. I’ll find something, I always do.’

‘That’s not why.’

‘Then _tell_ me why? Why am I here, in your life, in the middle of all this? I don’t _belong_ here, don’t you understand?’ His voice was getting louder and louder, the tremor fading as misplaced anger gave him strength. ‘You’re a professional, Fenris is a professional, Leliana, Josie… you’re all _adults_ , real fucking adults! People who have their lives together, who have their fucking shit together!’

Cullen frowned. ‘I don’t have my shit together,’ he said with just a touch of heat to it. ‘I need a _team_ of people around me to even function, including you.’

Dorian shoved away from the wall, shaking his head. ‘Why including me? Why am I here? What the hell do I have to offer you?’

He let the question hang there, let it sit in the air between them.

‘You’re my friend.’

With a viciously bitter chuckle, Dorian kept his back to Cullen.

‘The only friends I can keep are those who didn’t leave me when I…’ his throat snagged jaggedly, something painful caught in it and the words would not come. ‘They ask nothing of me and that… that’s exactly what I have to give. _Nothing_.’ He looked around wildly, fingers digging into the flesh of his upper arms, taking ruthless pleasure from the pain, from the cold, from the _anger._ _‘_ What can I give you, Cullen? All your friends, they _function_. They’re _real_ , they operate within the world and they excel. I can’t hear a fucking song on the radio without hyperventilating and you work in the music industry! Worse than that, Cullen, you _play_! You… you sing! I can’t, I can’t do this.’ He turned to face him then, everything taut, everything _hurting_. ‘I can’t do this. I’m nothing, do you understand? That’s not fucking _hyperbole._ I’m not saying it so you’ll reassure me, not putting myself low for sympathy. I am _nothing_ anymore. This…’ he gestured between them, unable to look away from Cullen’s stare, from his almost blank expression. ‘I have nothing to give you.’

He waited, heart thundering in the silence that followed. The wind blew gently and Dorian felt it in his eyes, unshed tears stinging.

His mind was whirling, emotions clawing at one another as he tried to anticipate what would come from Cullen in turn. Anger, _justifiable_ anger. Sadness maybe. Disappointment. Perhaps Cullen would hotly deny everything, tell Dorian he was _not_ nothing, talk him into believing it, prop him up with kindness.

It was slow, Cullen’s response and Dorian kind of _hated_ him for it. He was vibrating out of his fucking skin, waiting for Cullen to just make himself known, to cut through all this kindness and magical fucking goodness. To… to drop the act, cut it the fuck out and be honest.

Be _honest_.

‘I don’t _want_ anything from you,’ was what he eventually said. It was plain and stripped, like it hurt to speak. ‘I don’t _want_ anything from you, Dorian. If you have nothing to give, OK, that’s fine. I’m still your friend. Just because you can’t give me anything, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend.’

To say that the answer was unsatisfying was a gross understatement.

‘Why am I here?’

Cullen closed his eyes hard, sensing the urgency of the question that time and finally respecting it.

‘Because you make me feel safe.’

‘I— _what_?’

It was an answer Cullen didn’t want to repeat, Dorian could tell but he did so anyway. ‘You make me feel safe. Having you here with me, close to me, next door… I feel safe.’

And it was _ridiculous_. It was fucking stupid. Not one floor beneath was Fenris, probably the most lethal man Dorian had ever met. Cullen had a security team, he had _Leliana_ , who was more terrifying than all the glass in soup combined. Cullen had people who loved him, who moved mountains for him.

‘I make you feel safe,’ he echoed dully. ‘I, Dorian Pavus, make _you_ feel safe?’

Cullen shrugged defensively. ‘Yeah.’

But Dorian couldn’t let it go. ‘I, clusterfuck of a human – the crying queer from YouTube – make you feel _safe_?’

‘Yes, you make me feel safe, Dorian. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear. I’m sorry I can’t say it any better than that, _believe_ me, I wish I could.’

Dorian, who’d been glaring down at his feet while Cullen spoke, shot his gaze upwards, heart tightening with a blinding sense of panic because although it was just a hint, just a tiny little indication, he couldn’t fucking _breathe_ without addressing it.

‘Wh-what does that mean?’

‘I don’t know how else to say what you mean to me, I can’t—’

Dorian lifted his hand, stepping forward. ‘Cullen… have you written _songs_ about me?’

Cullen levelled his gaze. ‘No.’

‘Swear it.’

‘I swear it. You asked me to promise, that first night. I wouldn’t break that promise.’

But there was something in it, something not quite right. Dorian narrowed his eyes, searching, seeking with rusty instincts he never allowed free reign, not after where they’d led him before, but just this once he let them guide him.

Dorian took another step. ‘You haven’t… but you _want_ to, is that it?’

Cullen paled slightly, jaw tightening for a moment. ‘I promised I wouldn’t and I meant it.’

Dorian was losing himself to the unspoken implication, felt like he wasn’t even there. Everything seemed to be slipping sideways, like he’d just gotten off a roundabout.

_Trapped inside, the air stale and warm and he was hungry, he was fucking_ starving _but he couldn't go out, couldn’t go outside and hear that song. Didn’t want to hear the album that ripped him to pieces, hear the songs written about him by the man who’d looked him in the eye while fucking his band mate, who’d smiled and not_ stopped _because he was_ using _Dorian, because he was_ nothing _. Didn’t matter that he knew the words already because he’d gotten real good at memorising fucking lyrics._

**_Nothing past the skin and bones,_ **

**_Nothing there to find._ **

**_You talk real sweet and you taste like home,_ **

**_But your heart's a card, declined._ **

He could _hear_ it, he could hear every part of that song because of course… fucking _of course_ he’d listened to the whole album. Had _paid_ to download it and listen to every single one a dozen times each, finding little pieces of his worst self, of the things he hated, put into rhythm and rhyme, into lyrics. Compounded there with music, with a beat and a base.

All his insecurities, all his secrets… exploited. Known, laughed at, mocked. Expanded into songs, into chorus and bridge. Encores and B-sides.

All the very fucking _worst_ of him, a best selling thing. 

That pain was old but there was no other pain like it. He’d been in _love_ with a man so fully capable of lying to him, of using him and shaping him into something so completely different than what he’d been when they met, but he hadn’t known.

He’d been naive. He’d been _stupid_.

Instincts blinded, led astray and allowed him to almost be _destroyed_ by something he hadn’t seen coming, something he never suspected.

On the rooftop terrace of the ridiculously lovely hotel, Cullen was talking, was approaching slowly, the way one would with a wild animal but Dorian was beyond his limit, unable to cope.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, blinking tears down his face blindly, abstractly surprised to feel the moisture there. ‘I’m… I’m sorry, none of this is your fault, but I can’t do this.’

He left.

*

Cullen followed.

Of course he followed. He followed Dorian out into the hallway, down the stairs, into the fucking _foyer_ , out into Prague. He begged and pleaded and his voice strained and cracked, but he never touched Dorian, he never once grabbed him and pulled him back.

It was only when Fenris intervened, Dorian crossing the thankfully quiet road, that Cullen stopped. Dorian couldn’t hear what Fenris was saying, but it was soothing, probably wise and kind.

Cullen deserved that. Deserved all the best of the world.

And Dorian walked on.

Had no idea where he was going but it felt powerful. _He_ felt powerful, in control. Like maybe he was going somewhere. Like somehow, at one in the morning with no phone, no money and no sense of direction, he was headed towards the life he was meant to live.

Dorian walked and he walked, going straight for a while before then heading into narrow, darkened streets. Shops that were shut, cobblestones beneath his shoes making it hard to walk fast without stumbling. He ducked down an alleyway because he needed a wall to lean against, needed to breathe for a few seconds before he kept going. He turned into the darkness offered by narrow walls and he half collapsed against it, back hitting the rough surface hard enough to fucking _hurt_ , but he didn’t care.

Palms pressed flat against the gritty brick, the air dank and cold, he let his eyes fall shut. Dorian let the distance soothe what silence could not and then began to cry in earnest.

It had come out of nowhere, out of motherfucking nowhere, except it _hadn't_.

Because if Dorian truly searched himself, really looked within, he knew it had been building for a while now. Ever since he’d first seen Cullen’s guitar, ever since he’d heard his _voice_. Something dangerous and terrifying, a sense of dread in his stomach twined with other, far more worrying elements.

The taste of another country in the back of his throat, Dorian dragged one arm over his eyes and the anger, the painful fucking _rage_ inside of him began to falter. It weakened to something vulnerable, something susceptible to things like _logic_ and he despised himself for not being strong enough. He wanted to hold onto that anger, to somehow make this Cullen’s fault for coming into his life and fucking it all up.

For being _kind_ and for being _sweet_ , for taking care of Dorian, for making him food, for asking how he was, for cheering him up and then bringing him along… because Dorian made him feel safe.

And when Dorian pressed his hand to his heart, bandaged arm stood over his eyes, he felt the strength of it there. Felt Cullen’s name in every beat, saw glitter dancing before his eyes in the darkness.

Heard his voice, heard his songs that Dorian wished he didn’t remember partial lyrics to, wished it wasn’t so fucking _catchy_ , wished he’d never met this man because this damage… it was irreversible. Cullen was _irreversible_ and fuck, but Dorian had been doing _better_.

Pain came slowly then, a dreaded trickle of suffering and anguish followed closely by _shame_. The shame coloured all of it, tainted what had been pure, uncomplicated anger, made the pain a million times worse.

Oh fucking _Christ_ , what had he done?

There was no call for it, for any of it. Cullen had been nothing but nice, had been just about the nicest guy Dorian had ever _met_ and what had he done? Run away. Hurt him. Lashed out.

Fuck it all up royally.

‘Shit,’ he croaked weakly, dragging his arm away from his face, trying to take a few soothing breaths, deep and cold, attempts to counter the burning hot shame and regret. His bastard ex had treated him like shit for years and Dorian had hung around for all of it, for all _manner_ of fuckery but Cullen, who’d been only good to him, he got _this_.

Fucking Christ, Cullen had treated him better than _anyone_ Dorian had ever known. The man cared, he went out of his way to make that clear and even if he _did_ want to write songs, Dorian believed him when he said he wouldn’t. He wanted to distrust him, he _wanted_ to suspect second guess, but he knew it was necessary.

He trusted Cullen and that… that made it all the more dangerous.

It wasn’t Cullen he was running from, he realised with a soft, sad little exhale. It was himself.

The silence of his surroundings didn’t really sink in until something _broke_ it. He jolted, awareness of his vulnerable state hitting him like a sack of bricks. Dorian may have been a moron, but he hadn’t survived in London for years without learning a few things about dark alleys.

He moved fast, heading into the light of the open streets, into a place of safety, but before he could step beneath the benign gaze of the street-lamps, something grabbed him from behind.

A pair of hands snatched him back and he stumbled, centre of gravity suddenly yanked out from under him and the sick feeling of being _taken_ swallowed him whole. Whoever had him was _strong_ and they were big. Primal fear screamed in his ears and he struggled. He struggled hard, muscles and bones resisting but the hands were so strong.

He tried to yell, to scream for help but one huge hand covered his mouth. He tasted salt undercut with a metallic smack of dirty coins. Dorian couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _do anything_ except he had to, he fucking had to.

With everything he had, he swung his elbow backwards and drove it deep into his attacker’s ribs. The man grunted. It was deep and angry, but the grip around Dorian did not even falter. He was ruthless and determined. Bleakly, Dorian realised he might actually die.

A thick arm wrapped around his chest and began to squeeze, began to crush the life right out of him. Dorian couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get any air through the meaty hand clapped over his mouth but the guy wasn’t _doing_ anything, he was just slowly crushing Dorian to death.

And Dorian struggled. He struggled with every ounce of strength but it just wasn’t enough, nowhere near enough to combat the size of the man. Dorian was weak and he was small and he was going to fucking die. Oh, Christ he didn’t want to die. He couldn’t _die_ , please, please.

Suddenly, the pressure vanished.

There was _air_ rushing into his lungs. Several thuds of impact, of knuckles and bones smacking into flesh were barely audible over the sounds of his own screaming breaths. Dorian fell gracelessly to the filthy ground, fell hard enough to be winded, head spinning. Dorian landed on his side, ribs feeling like they were cracked and crushed, a pained sound escaping his lips and he was dazed, so fucking dazed and astonished, but he tried to crawl away.

He crawled on his forearms and knees through grit and wet mud, hand in the cast positively _screaming_ in protest but he had to get away, had to—

Someone was saying his name. Over and over.

‘Dorian, Dorian, stop, it’s fine. I’m not going to touch you. You’re safe now. You can stop.’

Dorian shook his head, trying to remember what he was supposed to do when someone said his name, when someone told him to stop. He was on the ground of an alley and he was shaking apart, breathing too fast, too shallow.

But he stopped, he made himself stop.

Fenris crouched down beside him, one half of him illuminated by the lights up ahead. He looked at the shorter man, at the man who had _saved_ him.

‘He… I…’

‘He’s not a threat anymore,’ Fenris said, shockingly calm, surveying Dorian with absolute focus, tiny dent between his brows the only true sign that he was concerned. ‘Can I help you to stand?’

‘Can you…?’ Dorian shook himself hard, words not making sense, nothing connecting. Adrenaline and shock making walls between his neurons, thoughts running into thick static and unable to do what they were meant to. He looked up at Fenris and managed to nod jerkily.

With careful, purposefully slow movements, Fenris lifted Dorian enough to lean back onto his haunches, legs wet and knees probably scraped, probably bleeding. When he looked down at his good hand, the side of his palms stung and bled, dirt and grit mixed with the red to make a dark, gruesome brown.

‘It’s over,’ Fenris was saying, lightly rubbing Dorian’s back. ‘You’re perfectly safe now.’

Dorian nodded and swallowed down a rolling wave of bile. His teeth were chattering, he felt the weirdest compulsion to _laugh_.

‘I need to look at your hand,’ Fenris said. ‘Is that all right?’

Dorian tried to speak, but he was either going to throw up or burst out laughing. He wasn’t sure which would be worse, so he nodded again, opting for silence.

Fenris lifted his right hand, brushing away dirt and debris, touching the tip of Dorian’s thumb. ‘That’s good,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘It’s not broken or exacerbated. When you’ve a free hour at some point, I’ll show you how to throw a punch _without_ fracturing your thumb if you like. Can you feel any other injuries, Dorian? Does anywhere feel cold or tingly?’

The word _injuries_ reminded Dorian that he hadn’t just fallen, that he hadn’t been drunk and stupid. It reminded him that someone had tried to fucking _take_ him, to hurt him, rob him, maybe kill him.

When he went to look in the direction of the attacker, Fenris gently touched his chin and moved his face back, keeping eye contact. ‘No, stay with me for a few more seconds, just while I check you over.’

‘Is he dead?’

Fenris examined Dorian’s other hand, his arms and then his torso. ‘You may have a cracked rib here.’

‘Is he fucking dead, Fenris?’

This time, when he looked, Fenris let him. The man was… not huge at all. He was just a man, shorter than Dorian even. He lay on the ground in a loose ball, unconscious, not moving.

Fenris followed Dorian’s gaze. ‘He’s not dead, just neutralised. Can you stand up?’

‘I think so.’

‘Let me help you?’

‘Y-yeah.’

Shakily, on legs that wobbled more than once and had Fenris taking most of his weight, Dorian got to his feet. ‘That’s good,’ Fenris said, guiding him back to the wall where he’d been leaning before. ‘That’s great.’

‘Yeah, I’m a fucking superstar,’ Dorian panted, full body tremors causing the words to shake.

Fenris smiled wryly, keeping hold of Dorian even as he lightly tapped his ear, bringing the communication device to life. ‘Thom, bring the car to our location. Don’t let Cullen come with you.’

Dorian’s stomach twisted and pulsed. ‘I’m going to throw up.’

‘This alley has seen worse,’ Fenris said, but he didn't move away, didn’t seem to think Dorian _was_ going to vomit and surprisingly, Fenris’s faith in him actually helped. The bile and sushi stayed put by some unknown grace and though his skin was ice cold and his insides were a ball of snakes, Dorian slowly began to calm.

‘Thank you,’ he managed, swallowing thickly.

Fenris took his pulse. ‘It’s my job, but you’re welcome.’

‘Were you following me?’

‘Of course. Prague can be dangerous.’

‘How did you…?’ Dorian looked down at his left hand wrist, the small black tracker splattered with watery mud. ‘Oh, right.’

‘You’re breathing much better now,’ Fenris told him. ‘Can you wiggle your toes?’

Dorian could and so he did.

‘Excellent. Thom will be here in a few seconds and then we’ll be in the car.’

Sometimes people said things like _a few seconds_ or _just one minute_ and in reality, Dorian would be left there for ages, for half an hour or longer but not in the world according to Fenris. Literally _seconds_ later, the sleek, black car pulled up beside the alleyway with pinpoint precision and Fenris gave Dorian a measuring look.

‘I can walk,’ Dorian assured him, gathering all his mettle.

Fenris nodded. ‘I know you can.’

Inside the car, Dorian began to feel how much his ribs fucking _hurt._ He began to feel all of it, every inch of his body. His right knee absolutely _killed_ , everything ached, everything was sore and he was suddenly so cold it was startling, despite the temperate conditions of the car.

‘Hospital?’ Thom asked quietly from the front seat, clearly talking to Fenris who was sat in the back with Dorian.

The man who’d saved his life simply said, ‘No. He’ll be all right.’

Thom nodded like that was a perfectly reasonable response and drove on.

Dorian cleared his throat. ‘Where are we—uh?’ He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Fenris wasn’t close enough to intrude upon his personal space, but he was close. The way a friend might be.

‘Cullen told us to take you wherever you wanted to go,’ Fenris said. His voice was so _soothing,_ damn it. Like a fucking late night FM DJ.

Dorian didn’t need to ask what that meant. Of course Cullen would not want Dorian to feel beholden to him in a foreign country, would make it plain that he could return to the UK if he wanted, to London, to his loft, to safety and silence.

Shut the windows, mute the TV, white noise and no music ever again.

He looked out at the streets as they passed, felt the weight of the question unsaid.

‘Let’s go back to the hotel,’ Dorian said softly, suddenly so tired it hurt.

*

To say that Cullen was upset would be like saying Dorian was only _slightly_ prone to bad luck. He did everything he could to contain it, but Dorian could see it in the way his expression was set in stone, in his lifted brow, seeking the strength to remain outwardly neutral.

Fenris was honest when Cullen asked what had happened, but he chose his words cleverly. ‘There was a scuffle,’ he told his friend. ‘He’s all right.’

Cullen accepted that in silence. He held himself back, but he made it clear he wasn’t angry at Dorian. When Dorian lifted his shirt and let Fenris examine his chest, the left hand side especially, Cullen was _very_ subtle about the way he wiped his eyes.

‘Not cracked,’ Fenris stated. ‘Bruised, that’s all. Can I clean your scrapes?’

Dorian nodded in answer to Fenris’s question, but he was looking at Cullen. The man was doing everything he could not to freak out, Dorian could tell.

‘Did you, uh,’ Cullen said, trying once more to smile. ‘Was it near that shop with the weird dolls?’

It was _would-be_ casual at best, might have been better had there not been a massive crack right in the foundation of it all. Dorian winced slightly when Fenris wiped something sterile over his good hand, over the stinging torn skin.

‘Near enough,’ Fenris said, frowning with concentration. ‘Cullen, make me a tea, would you? You’re _hovering_.’

Dorian huffed a tiny laugh. Cullen sort of mirrored it, only his was shaky, his was a weird little thing unto itself. ‘Dorian, you want one?’

‘Only if you’re making it.’

Cullen barely reacted at all save to turn away, throat bobbing, leaving Dorian too tired to curse his runaway mouth.

‘Can I clean your knees?’

‘Huh?’

‘Your knees,’ Fenris repeated patiently. ‘They’re bleeding and your jeans are torn. I could roll them up but that’s not optimal.’

‘Oh, right. I’ll just take them off, then?’

‘If that’s all right with you.’

Dorian scouted to the left of where he sat on the hotel chair, Cullen in the _dining room_ area, making tea in uncharacteristically clumsy fashion. ‘Yeah, sure.’

He did the whole thing without standing up, dropping the now ruined jeans on a messy heap beside his chair and then he just sat there, bare legs out for the world to see. Dorian suddenly felt a bit indecent.

‘Um, maybe I should get a blanket or something,’ he mumbled as Fenris poured what looked like rubbing alcohol onto a fresh cotton wool ball.

Fenris leaned back and grabbed the throw from the huge bed, handing it to Dorian who covered his lap, fingers fidgeting happily with the material.

‘Thanks.’

‘You don’t have to thank me.’

‘Well, I am, so there.’

Fenris cracked a smile, glancing up through lowered lashes, but it was momentary, back to work the next second.

‘Is it bad?’

‘Bleeding a little, but it’s no worse than falling when you’re a kid.’

Dorian felt the tingling sting up his forearm, the weird sand-papery sensation of a _scrape._ It had been many years since he’d felt such a thing.

‘It hurts to breathe.’

‘Bruised ribs will do that. I’ve got some arnica cream to put on, but aside from that, there isn’t much to do. Ribs are awkward that way.’

‘You’ve had bruised ribs?’

‘Bruised, cracked, broken.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Yes, very ouch.’

‘What’s your worst injury?’

Something in the ever wry smile flickered, a small frown. ‘I don’t remember it, but it would… probably be the markings.’

Dorian had never asked, had not wanted to earn a wrathful look from the man who protected Cullen, whose lethality was certainly not in question, but he had _wondered_ about the markings over his skin. Thin lines, a faint white against a shade of bronze that closely matched Dorian’s own, spilling ever so slightly onto his face by the chin, but elsewhere, they were contained to his neck, to the bare chest and arms that Dorian had seen earlier that day. They were beautiful in their way, swirling and artful. Dorian had considered that they could be white ink tattoos, but from the way Fenris had tensed up, he knew there was more to it.

‘You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Fenris said and Dorian believed him. ‘It was another life.’

Dorian watched as he carefully removed grit and dirt, cleaned up his knees like a parent might for a child. Too much time had passed for Cullen to be doing anything other than _hiding_ now and Dorian sighed, taking pity on him.

‘Where’s my tea?’

Cullen was already holding both cups, pretty china things. When he walked into Dorian’s room, he did a bang up impression of seeming normal.

‘Sorry, the kettle was slow,’ he said placing both cups down on the nearby coffee table and then stood around awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Can I help with something?’

‘You can put those in the bin.’ Fenris nodded towards the pile of dirtied wool balls. ‘And grab some pyjamas from the drawers. There,’ he said, looking up at Dorian. ‘You’re all done. I’ll get the arnica cream for your chest.’

Fenris pushed himself easily up and was away without looking back while Cullen stood there, holding a pair of slinky shorts, Dorian’s favourite pair to sleep in. He was holding them very tightly, staring at the space to Dorian’s right.

Cullen was entirely rigid, like he was _possessed_.

‘Are you… OK?’ Dorian asked quietly, hating how uncertain it sounded.

Cullen nodded tightly in reply and Dorian sort of gave up, didn’t know how to make it better, how to make anything fucking _better_ when he was this much of a walking clusterfuck.

‘I’m sorry I—’

‘Don’t apologise,’ Cullen said and Dorian couldn’t help but flinch because that… _that_ was a familiar saying. ‘I just mean, you’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.’

Fenris returned swiftly with a small pot of cream that made Dorian’s eyes water when applied, the base scent was so strong. But it helped. It actually helped.

‘Lift your arm a few times,’ Fenris said, watching for signs of discomfort. ‘That’s good, it’s definitely not cracked. You’re pretty tough, you know that?’

Dorian had the distinct feeling that Fenris, though saying it in a relatively playful manner, was _not_ teasing him. Like so much else, he didn't really have an answer for it so he made a weird, half shrugging motion and Cullen handed Dorian his sleep vest, their fingers brushing lightly as the transaction occurred.

He put it on with minimal difficulty, the familiar smell of his non-bio washing tablets making him think of home.

‘So,’ Fenris said, still kneeling before Dorian at eye level. ‘You probably know about being in shock.’

Dorian nodded sombrely. ‘Yeah.’

‘You might need to throw up, it could come anytime. When you wake up tomorrow, you might feel a bit feeling hungover. Lots of water, nothing strenuous. Try and sleep if you can. I’ll be downstairs. If you need me, for any reason, activate the bracelet.’

A sudden hot flush of embarrassment came for Dorian then. He hadn’t even _thought_ of activating the bracelet before, when he was fucking _dying_ , when he couldn’t breathe. It had been right there and he hadn’t even considered it.

‘Yeah, got it.’

Fenris seemed to read his mind. ‘Cullen literally never remembers to use his.’

‘That’s true,’ Cullen offered quietly.

‘So if you’re trying to sit there and make yourself feel worse,’ Fenris said, tone angling down in friendly warning. ‘Remember that there’s always a bigger twat than you if Cullen is in the room.’

Dorian burst out laughing at that. A shaky, brittle thing that he couldn’t control and when it _inevitably_ turned into tears, into him crying like a fucking child, it was completely unexpected for Fenris to very lightly take him into his arms for a hug.

‘You survived, you were strong. You’re here with us and you’re safe.’

_Here with us._

It wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought, taking comfort where offered. Dorian let himself feel it, let himself feel that maybe Fenris actually cared too.

‘You’re a fighter,’ Fenris said, quiet enough so that only Dorian could hear. ‘Remember that, if nothing else.’

‘OK,’ Dorian croaked, wiping his eyes when Fenris drew back.

‘Cullen,’ he said, in an entirely different tone. ‘Quick word?’

They left Dorian there with his tea and his comfy sleep clothes, body bruised and scraped, the smell of arnica cream all around. It was difficult not to think of how if he’d just kept his fucking _cool_ , none of this would have happened.

Hard not to think of how he’d ruined the whole night.

He drank some tea, the sweet warmth spreading through him instantly, making him feel drastically better. Creature comforts and some basic kindness really went a long way.

But he needed to pee.

He moved slow and careful, biting back a groan at the pain in his chest as he headed for the bathroom, the one near the front door of the suite.

It wasn’t unexpected that Cullen and Fenris were outside, talking in hushed whispers. It was definitely weird that they were _arguing_ though.

Dorian felt himself freeze up, years of instinct kicking in from his time as a child, overhearing parents hissing at one another. He hesitated by the bathroom door and against his better judgement, he peered through the gap and listened.

‘…think you realise just _how_ much.’

‘That’s not relevant.’

‘Cullen, it’s going to be pretty fucking relevant come late July!’

‘I still think you’re wrong.’

‘He was very clear with me on the roof.’

Cullen sounded almost angry. ‘I _told you_ not to—'

‘I _know_ what you told me.’

‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Talk to him. _Properly_.’

‘I… fuck,’ Cullen sounded suddenly breathless. ‘I’m gonna lose him.’

Gently, firmly, Fenris said, ‘He’s not yours to lose.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I shouldn’t have brought him with me. This is all my fault.’

‘Self-pity is not the solution here.’

‘Who was it, the attacker? It wasn’t—?’

‘No, of course not. It was a local. Some guy with a knife.’

‘Did Dorian see the knife?’

‘I don’t think so, no.’

‘Fucking hell. I can’t believe this happened. Are you sure it’s not him, Fen?’

‘Cullen, of course I’m not _sure_. The only way to be sure would have been to interrogate the man and I was a little more concerned with getting Dorian back here safely. I do not _think_ it was him and for now, that’ll have to be enough.’

‘I shouldn’t have brought him.’

‘Well, obviously not. I begged you not to. But look, he’s OK, Cullen. A few scrapes and Prague _is_ dangerous. He’s here and he’s safe. You have to talk to him. Tell me you know that much, at least.’

‘I know you’re right, you always are.’

‘Lifetime of practise. Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.’

Cullen gave a disgruntled sigh. ‘Yeah, I know that too.’

‘You’ve got the thing with Izzy.’

‘Maybe I should cancel it.’

‘You can’t. This is live TV we’re talking about.’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

‘You suppose? Fucking hell, man, you promised Lee you weren’t going to do this again.’

‘No, no. Of course I’ll do it. I just feel bad for Dorian being here while it’s happening.’

‘I can take him out for the day if you want.’

‘Really? That might be good.’

‘I don’t think you really thought this whole thing through, Cullen.’

To that, Cullen dropped his head in his hands and his back shook a couple of times. Fenris moved into his space and hugged him.

Muffled and quiet, Dorian heard him say, ‘He could have died.’

‘No, I followed him the whole time.’

‘He’d be safer away from me, like Sophia and Madeline.’

‘It’s not my business, but I disagree with that statement on the whole, as you are well aware.’ He patted Cullen firmly on the back. ‘Go and tell him, right now. It can’t hold much longer and if he realises it before you tell him, that’s on you.’

Cullen wiped his eyes, sighing wetly. ‘I still think he already knows.’

In a low voice, Fenris said, ‘I promise you he doesn’t. Tell him, he can take it. I’ll be downstairs.’

‘All right, thanks.’

Fenris walking away was all the warning Dorian got that Cullen was returning. He aborted his attempt to make it to the bathroom and dashed back into the bedroom area. He sat on the bed, trying not to look guilty when Cullen came back into view.

‘Hey,’ Cullen said softly, something vaguely tormented about him. He was fiddling with his fingertips, nervous and patently worried. 'You need anything? Want anything?'

'No, I'm fine, thanks,’ Dorian answered, just a touch breathless, trying to act natural. 

Cullen closed his eyes. ‘So, um. There’s something I need to tell you.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday's Update: Cullen and Dorian have an actual conversation... but about what, exactly? Also, Fenris and Dorian's Big Day Out.


	11. Is It Really This Fun When You're On My Mind? (Is It Really This Cool To Be In Your Life?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! 💜💜💜

_Two Years Ago_

_‘Hey, can we talk? There’s something I gotta tell you.’_

_Dorian had been on his knees helping Krem untangle leads. The last person to use them was obviously unfamiliar with things like common decency because they were horribly messy and knotted._

_‘Hmm?’ he said distractedly. ‘Yeah, one minute.’_

_But Krem looked up and then gently nudged Dorian._

_Oh, he was upset. Shit._

_Dorian_ _’s stomach did a flip not unlike a loop-de-loop on a fucking roller coaster because yup, he was_ angry. _Maybe not at Dorian, but at the world in general and it made Dorian instantly sick, breaking out into a nervous sweat because though days like this were common, that didn_ _’t negate how much he hated them._

_‘Sorry,’ Dorian said, scrambling to his feet, patting Krem’s shoulder once. ‘Sorry, I’m here.’_

_His boyfriend, Hardiss Lilbourn, was always the loudest and biggest guy in the room. With ridiculously broad shoulders, arms as thick as Dorian_ _’s thighs and a brand of wicked, roguish charm that would have had the Queen blushing and tittering, some days Dorian still found it difficult to believe he was lucky enough to_ know _him, let alone be his._

_Dorian wiped his hands on his thighs, pressing a little bit harder than necessary as he followed him away from the stage and towards the backstage area, tiny dressing rooms and a toilet that always stank of smoke._

_Only when they were inside the dressing room, a cupboard and little more, did Dorian exhale, carefully controlled._

_‘What’s up, Harry?’_

_‘Bull,’ the man corrected automatically. Dorian might have rolled his eyes once but the last two years had given him plenty of practise in holding himself back. He watched as the larger man lowered himself into a chair, tall, well-built frame barely fitting into the shoddy thing. He wore a white tank top, messed up jeans and black boots. His ears and nose were pierced, hair long enough to be swept back at the top and shaved at the sides. All over his massive arms and shoulders were tribal tattoos that Dorian knew every square inch of. His skin was rough in places, a solid shade lighter than Dorian’s and a different hue. He’d never told Dorian where he came from, never spoke about his history much. The scar over his eye ran through the brow and went all the way down to his socket. The surgery required to save his sight had resulted in a fairly thick scar, but far from shying away from it, Hardiss, or_ Bull _as he liked to be called these days, simply leaned into the roughed up aesthetic and made it work for him, like he did with so much else._ _‘C’mon, kid, you know what I like to be called.’_

_Dorian managed a smile, biting back an involuntary wince because he_ hated _to be called kid, but any such complaint would fall on deaf ears._

_‘Yeah, sorry. What’s up?’_

_‘Close the door.’_

_Dorian was distinctly nervous by the time he sat in front of his boyfriend, door closed, silence falling thickly all around._

_Bull sighed and rubbed his tanned face._ _‘I fucked up.’_

_And Dorian just waited. He waited because it was always better to let_ him _do the talking. Bull would know which way he wanted the conversation to go. If he was stressed then it was better to be silent._

_‘This is hard to say,’ Bull said and Dorian just gave a small nod. ‘I wanted to fuck someone else.’_

_The words hit the air, souring it immediately. Dorian did everything he could not to react, not to move but oh, that fucking_ hurt. _He clung to the word_ wanted _. Clung hard with everything he had, but_ someone else _was hard to ignore._

_‘It was just someone random, a fan last night. She was all over me at the bar, any guy would’ve gotten hot for it. She knew the lyrics, it was weird, y’know?’_

_No, Dorian did_ not _know. He also didn_ _’t point out that he happened to know all the lyrics to every single song ever produced by Fully Charged._

_Not bothered by Dorian_ _’s lack of response, Bull went on. ‘Her hands were on my chest and she was basically grinding all over me at the bar, right there for anyone to see. And I wanted it, Dorian. I wanted to fuck her.’_

_He said the last four words with subtle emphasis, no other way to describe it. He was watching the younger man with a deceptively sharp gaze, something hungry in it. Watching for jealousy, for pain, for insecurity._

_And Dorian gave it all. Gave him everything he had, like always. Let him see all of it, didn_ _’t try to hold back because his boyfriend didn’t like it when he held back, when he tried to keep something of himself hidden. Bull was needy and he wanted everything from Dorian. Everything and then some. Every little emotion, every flicker of feeling._

_‘I’m sorry,’ Dorian said, throat painfully thick, eyes stinging._

_Bull shushed him, bringing him into his arms and settling him atop his lap. He was hard, but Dorian sort of expected it. Everyone had different turn ons and some of Harry_ _’s -_ Bull’s - _were a bit weird, but who was Dorian to judge? So crying turned him on, big deal. There were weirder things._

_‘No, baby, no,’ he said soothingly, arranging Dorian like a rag doll so his legs were on either side, arms around his neck. ‘You don’t have to apologise to me. You know our rule.’_

_‘No apologies.’_

_He thumbed Dorian_ _’s tears away, grinding up a little against Dorian’s ass. Dorian wanted to bury his face in rough skin, in the smell he’d come to associate with a feeling of belonging. He wanted more than anything to show Bull that he didn't have to want anyone else, that Dorian could be - fucking_ would _be - anything he wanted or needed._

_‘That’s right, kid. No apologies. You don’t have to be sorry, I know you are. I can feel it.’ He reared up, cupping Dorian’s face with one hand, tongue dragging over the tear tracks. ‘I can_ taste _it. Fuck, did it make you sad, baby? Tell Daddy._ _’_

_Dorian swallowed down the tiny, pained sob. He felt like the man_ _’s hand was in his chest, wrenching and pulling on things that were meant to stay put. He wanted to run, to scream, but that was nothing new. If he was good, if he gave him what he wanted, then it would at least be_ quick _._

_*_

‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

The memory came unbidden, more than one occasion of his _Ex_ framing something awful and confusing under the guise of coming clean. The sense memory was a sickly, cold thing that began at the base of Dorian’s spine, crawling upwards. His lips tightened, gaze deadening somewhat and he looked away, fighting for control. He waited in silence, fists balled, despite the pain. Dorian was older and he was a little bit wiser but the memories never failed to hurt the same. He wondered if it would ever fade. 

‘Is that all right?’

Dorian blinked, looking back warily. ‘What?’

Cullen was watching, every part of his pretty face etched with concern. ‘Is it all right if we talk?’

And though he wanted to be nice, to match kindness with kindness, the memory was on fucking replay now and Dorian’s hackles were well and truly raised. He shrugged and nodded, looking away again. Protective, defensive.

‘Are you… I don’t um, know how to ask if you’re OK without sounding like a total moron.’

‘I’m OK,’ Dorian said, running the pad of his index finger along the still damp, dirty cast. It would have to come off soon, might need to be replaced. ‘Tell me what you need to tell me.’

‘Right, OK.’ Cullen began to pace and Dorian… he _hated_ it. Didn’t like being made to sit and wait to be informed of something, usually something bad.

‘Maybe just say it?’ he offered, doing everything he could to keep that tightness from his tone.

Cullen nodded and rubbed his face. ‘Yeah, all right. Um.’

Dorian knew what it was before the words even came out. Cullen’s hands were shaking a little, he was plainly nervous and it showed in every part of him.

Oh God. No, Dorian couldn’t hear it, he just couldn’t. The words would wreck him, they would shatter him to pieces.

‘I should have told you this from the start. I’m… look, I’m pretty sure it’s something you already _know_ , but I need to be very clear. I think, because I was worried about your feelings, that I haven’t been. I wanted to protect you from it and in trying to do so, I’ve been unclear. This is hard, I’m sorry.’ He exhaled harshly. ‘Dorian, I’m—’

‘I know,’ Dorian cut across dully, swiftly, throat packed with wool. Couldn’t let the words meet air, couldn’t hear him say it aloud because there was _no way_ he’d be able to control himself if he did. ‘You don’t have to say it, I already know.’

Cullen froze and Dorian just couldn’t bring himself to look, see it there in his face, see confirmation of what Leliana had told him. He just _couldn_ _’t_.

Cullen liked him. Cullen _liked him_ liked him. Maybe more than liked. Oh fuck, why did it have to be this way? Why did _Dorian_ have to be this way?

A sick, twisted part of him tried to imagine what Cullen had been about to say. Let himself picture it for a single second before he crushed it down and locked it away in a box.

Warily, Cullen ventured, ‘You do?’

‘Yeah, I do. I’ve known for a while. Like, a few days at least. I was being…hmm, purposefully obtuse before, I think. Maybe I didn’t want to see it.’

He moved closer to Dorian, careful not to infringe upon his personal space. ‘Because it’s difficult.’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian ground out, wishing they could just _not_ have the whole fucking talk especially not with how hard his heart was beating, with how much he just wanted to reach out and _take_ what Cullen may or may not be offering. How would it have felt to be _normal_ , to laugh and say, _yeah me too._ ‘Just a bit.’

Cullen swallowed hard, closing his eyes. ‘Dorian, I’m so _sorry_.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’

‘I should have made it clear, right away. I just… it was so _unexpected_ that you didn’t— God, that sounds so arrogant, that’s not what I mean.’

All locked up, Dorian managed to shrug again. ‘Doesn’t make it any less true, does it?’ he said in a poor impression of someone who wasn’t screaming internally. ‘And don’t fret over it. I’m sure it’s not been a cake walk for you.’

Cullen chuckled uneasily. ‘Not exactly.’

Dorian’s eyes closed because yeah sure, he _knew_ it wasn’t exactly ideal for Cullen to like someone like Dorian, but hearing it was something else entirely. ‘I’m sorry it’s been rough for you.

‘No, no,’ Cullen said. ‘It’s not… that’s not it at all. I was sure you knew already, Fenris said you didn’t but I just _knew_ you did.’ He laughed gently with an edge of self-deprecation. ‘I think I did just about the worst job of hiding it.’

Dorian thought of body glitter and easy touches. Of his arm around Dorian, of hot chocolate and taking him away to new places. The way Cullen _looked_ at him sometimes, even in front of others…

‘Maybe, yeah.’

Cullen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘You think it’s bad, right?’

‘No,’ Dorian said. ‘No, I don’t think it’s _bad_ , it’s just. I can’t give you that, Cullen.’

‘I… I know that, yeah.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ Dorian added sadly, softly. ‘I _do_.’

‘You do?’

‘Of course I do. How could I not? You’re… fucking hell, you _know_ what you are. Of course I want _this._ I want all of it, but it’s not fair on you or me.’

‘Dorian, I said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t expect anything from you.’

Because who could ever actually _expect_ anything from Dorian?

‘Look, you’re uh. You’re actually too important to me to risk with anything else, so if this is going to be an issue, I’d rather you told me upfront,’ Dorian said stiffly, fingertips trembling. ‘Not like I wouldn’t _blame_ you. Look at what I do when presented with nice things, with a nice life, with… with someone like you.’

‘You’re important to me, too. Nothing is worth risking…’ Cullen looked up slowly, a strange expression playing about his lovely features. ‘This.’

Dorian should have been pleased, relieved. Cullen didn’t want to risk their friendship either, knew it wasn’t _worth_ the risk and that should have been a good thing.

It was just the way Cullen said _this_. Like he didn’t mean their friendship, like he meant something else.

‘Hmm,’ Dorian said, not quite trusting himself to speak. Fuck, but this was _agony_.

‘I would never ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. I know you already knew, but is this going to be a problem for you?’

He asked it like he genuinely wanted to know, whereas Dorian knew that _others_ would have asked it in a way that meant they weren’t _asking_ at all, simply warning him not to let it become a problem.

Dorian searched himself for what little amount of honesty he was capable of giving. Would it be a problem that Cullen liked him? That it was out in the open between them, with Dorian fully and irreversibly aware of it?

When Dorian had said it couldn’t happen.

When Cullen had said as much himself.

‘What…’ he cleared his throat when it stuck. ‘What would happen if I said it _would_ be a problem?’

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered as Cullen considered. He turned his gaze to the left, biting his bottom lip.

‘Then I would stop.’

‘Stop? How can you just _stop_?’

Cullen’s breathing had picked up just a fraction and he seemed almost wildly determined then. ‘I would stop, if you asked me to. I would.’

And Dorian was so fucking affected by what he saw, by the strange light in Cullen’s eyes that he almost wanted to say it, just to see what that would look like. Tell Cullen to stop liking him, to _stop_ feeling things for him… because he wondered if he really could, just like that. Close it off, shut it away.

‘It’s fine,’ was what he said. ‘You don’t need to do anything. We’re friends, that’s all that matters.’ Cullen was still, was almost holding his breath and so Dorian kept right on talking because silences had to be filled. ‘And look, I’m sorry about tonight. I know I fucked up.’

He moved his focus down to his scraped hands so he didn’t have to see Cullen’s face when he spoke.

‘Dorian, _none_ of this is your fault. Do you realise that? I asked you to come. Every single thing after that is my fault. You can’t take ownership for this shitstorm. This one’s mine you hear? Got my name all over it.’

Dorian tried to smile, wished he had it in him and he didn’t dare look up and _see_ Cullen’s own brand of kindness. ‘OK, I’ll give you that one, but I meant what I said about… about you being important to me.’

Cullen was moving steadily closer, always giving Dorian time to adjust, to make some signal that he didn’t _want_ him closer. When he said that Cullen was important to him, Cullen dropped to his knees in front of Dorian.

He dropped to his fucking knees.

‘You’re important to me too,’ he said in a voice that was half breathless, half deep and fervent. Something better suited to the words _will you marry me_ than echoing Dorian’s restrained sentiment. ‘You’re… I don’t want this to come between us.’

‘It won’t,’ Dorian said, dredging up the confidence to assure him in a way that felt like it had a chance of being real. It didn’t _feel_ real, not at all. Fuck, it didn’t even feel like they were talking about the same thing anymore, especially not when Cullen lifted his hand and gently caressed the side of Dorian’s face, thumb trailing across his jaw line, fingertips pushing back a lock of hair from the top. ‘It-it won’t.’

That time, it felt like a denial. Like he was desperately trying to assure himself as well as Cullen that it was _not_ going to happen, that it couldn’t happen.

‘You mean a lot to me,’ Cullen said in a low voice. ‘You make me feel things, Dorian.’

Oh good God.

Dorian reached up and took Cullen’s hand, holding it between both of his. ‘Cullen,’ he said, trying to make it sound like a reproach, but it only came out fondly exasperated. ‘It’s late.’

Cullen nodded and looked down at their hands, at that point of contact. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Fenris said no stress and this isn’t helping I suppose.’

What _definitely_ wasn’t helping was the way he then half bent to press a kiss to Dorian’s good hand. Lips brushed skin, eyes fluttered shut for the duration of that gentle press and then it was gone, leaving Dorian’s world fucking _upside down_.

_Cullen was just naturally tactile, he_ told himself. _Just very, very tactile._

In a strangled kind of way, Dorian said, ‘If we could not talk about it anymore, I would really appreciate it.’

Cullen nodded and sat back, ending the contact. Dorian looked down at him, unable to help the little feeling of curiosity at having Cullen in such a position. Sat back on his haunches, lower than Dorian, supplicant almost. Dorian combined it with what he already knew of Cullen. Of his deep and powerful praise kink, of the way he liked Dorian giving him orders.

The picture it painted was pretty, but _oh_ it was fucking lethal too.

‘We won’t talk about it, not a word,’ Cullen promised solemnly. ‘I swear. The others too, they won’t say anything, no triggers. I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

Cullen stayed there on his knees, eyes fixed upon Dorian like he was the North star that could guide him home and Dorian decided to make his life just a little bit _worse_ before it had any chance of getting better.

‘But um, before we never talk about it again,’ he said gruffly. ‘Can you just tell me… why?’

‘Why…?’

‘Why you uh, chose... Just tell me why?’

Cullen frowned for a moment in the way that signalled he was parsing his words carefully.

‘I didn’t _choose_ it,’ he said slowly. ‘You can’t choose things like this, I don’t think. I mean,’ he laughed wryly, a little breathless. ‘It comes with a lot of downsides.’

_Downside_. The title of one of those fucking songs. Oh, God that hurt so much it was like a knife to the ribs. Ribs that were already bruised.

And Dorian wanted to believe that what he _meant_ was that it was inconvenient to fall for someone like Dorian because they lived together, because he was his landlord, because Cullen had a life that involved music… but deep down, Dorian already knew what he meant.

Had a whole _album_ to consult if he ever forgot.

‘Right, yeah. I see that,’ he said, aiming for normal and landing on strangled. ‘Mmm. Anyway. I’m really tired. And I’m… I’m sorry again for tonight. For what I did.’

‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

_It comes with a lot of downsides_.

They would be friends. Dorian could be a good friend, he could. The best fucking friend in the world and that… that would be more than enough.

It would have to be.

Dorian forced a smile. ‘Give it time.’

*

‘I made you tea.’

Dorian cracked an eye and groaned.

‘Nughwannit.’

Fenris placed the tea and a small plate of biscuits on his bedside table. ‘It’s going to get noisy in here soon. Big day. Might want to get dressed.’

Resentfully, nursing a headache that would ordinarily have been brought about by mixing Tequila and Sambuca, Dorian sat up, pulling the covers over himself and glaring suspiciously.

‘You made me tea?’

‘Well,’ Fenris shrugged. He was out of his usual _Black is the new Black_ choice of wear, opting for light blue jeans and a pale sage t-shirt. He had his hair in a tiny ponytail at the back. ‘I brought it in here. I was involved.’

Dorian grinned despite himself, sipping the tea that Cullen had patently made for him.

‘Why are you dressed down?’

‘We’re going out,’ Fenris said, nabbing a custard cream from the selection of biscuits and dunking it in Dorian’s tea without so much as a by-your-leave, cheeky fucker. ‘If you’d like to, of course. It’s our last day in Prague. We fly out tomorrow and there are still a few cool things to do here that you haven’t done.’

Dorian scoffed lightly, basking in the glory that was the first tea of the morning. Behind Fenris, he could make out vague hustle and bustle. Female voices and Cullen’s low tone.

‘Is this by any chance mandatory?’

Fenris threw the custard cream up high in the air and caught it between his teeth, casual as you please. ‘Nothing is mandatory, Dorian.’

‘I suppose we could,’ Dorian sighed, entirely lacking in enthusiasm, knuckling his forehead. ‘I haven’t seen Old Town yet, so—’

‘Oh, fuck Old Town,’ Fenris waved off dismissively. ‘Come on. Get your arse up, take some painkillers and choose an outfit you hate. It’s going to get ruined.’

*

‘Walk me through it again?’

Fenris laughed and swung his bat, standing before a rusty old Ford Fiesta that was probably older than Dorian.

‘Destroy the car,’ he said, tapping the end of his bat lightly to the glass of the windshield. A breeze rustled around them where they stood in the courtyard. Dorian’s mind had drifted a bit during the safety demonstration, still focused on Cullen’s lingering gaze when he’d said goodbye an hour ago in the hotel.

Both Dorian’s hands, including the fractured one, were covered in protective gloves and he wore eye gear, glasses that reminded him of science class.

‘Destroy the… what the actual fuck are we doing here?’

Fenris swung his arm expertly into the driver’s side window. The bat shattered the glass with a resounding, rather beautiful crash. Glass rained down, landing inside and out of the car.

‘Destroying stuff,’ he reminded him casually. ‘Your turn.’

‘I can’t,’ Dorian mumbled weakly, frowning. ‘My hand—’

‘Your left is fine. Smash this car to fuck, Dorian. I’m going to destroy the big one over there. This baby is yours.’

‘What if I don’t _want_ to destroy things?’ Dorian called out as Fenris walked away, bat over his shoulder.

‘Then you’re going to be very bored for an hour.’

Dorian looked back at the car, gripping the bat very tightly with his left. It felt unfamiliar, but… it was still his hand, his arm.

Experimentally, he swung the bat down onto the hood of the beat up car. It made a loud bang, the reverberation of the impact vibrating up his wrist.

Oooh, that was _nice_.

‘Huh,’ he said, circling the car. ‘Well, when in Rome.’

*

Smashing up the car took a bit of adjustment with his left, but once he got into it, he _got into it_.

He swung the bat, he dented metal, he shattered glass and he _trashed_ the car. No, he destroyed it.

And the feeling… oh, the _feeling_ was fucking magnificent.

Once his own car was entirely ruined to the best of his ability, heart pounding excitedly, he moved on to another one. This time he went right for the glass, just like Fenris. It was the most satisfying thing, feeling it shatter under his ministrations. Incredible.

Lunch was a massive, greasy burger with onions, pickles and more sauce than sanity permitted with a fat helping of chips on the side.

Dorian moaned when he bit into it, instant sensation of _wellness_ hitting his bloodstream, despite the knowledge that such a meal provided anything but. Fenris, who had the same, grinned and unrepentantly dipped his thick cut chips into his strawberry milkshake.

‘That’s illegal.’

‘It is not.’

‘OK, well, it should be. This burger is amazing.’

‘Mmm, don’t tell Cullen. He’ll be furious I let you eat something so unhealthy.’

Dorian glanced up quickly, assessing Fenris. The man seemed intent on his burger, but Dorian was coming to know him.

‘Thank you again, for what you did.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I talked to Cullen last night,’ Dorian said, a little quieter. ‘I uh. Well, I heard you two arguing about it and so I wanted you to know that he spoke to me and, yeah. We talked. Everything is fine.’

‘Everything is fine?’

‘Yeah, for sure. Except… well, nothing is ever really fine, is it? I suppose it’s better to know and for both of us to be on the same page.’

‘And you’re on the same page now?’

‘I think so, yeah. It’s… I don’t know.’

Fenris tilted his head curiously. ‘You don’t know?’

‘It’s just difficult,’ Dorian found himself explaining. ‘I really like him, but… it’s just a lot to process, with everything.’

‘With everything, as in your ex?’

‘Somewhat, yeah. But Cullen’s life is… well, look at it,’ he said wryly. ‘We’re different. We live different lives.’

‘I live in a one bed flat with three months’ worth of canned food in a container under my bed. We’re all different, Dorian.’

Fenris dipped another chip into the shake, everything about him calm and composed. Dorian waited, feeling out the silence and what it called for.

‘Can I ask why?’

‘Why the canned food?’

‘Yes.’

Fenris shrugged. ‘Even the most logical of us have illogical fears. Starvation is an abstract concept to most.’

Gently, Dorian asked, ‘Not to you, though?’

Fenris gave him a warm if somewhat sad smile. ‘Not to me.’

‘That’s… I’m sorry.’

With a shrug, Fenris reached for a napkin. ‘I’m not starving now.’

‘No,’ Dorian chuckled. ‘Neither of us are. So, what’s on the agenda next?’

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Fenris glanced at a nearby clock informing them it was just after midday. ‘White water rafting.’

Dorian snort-laughed, rolling his eyes. ‘Yeah right.’

Fenris wasn’t laughing. ‘You can swim, can’t you?’

‘Well, yeah but this is _Prague_. There aren’t any rapids here… are there?’

*

The smell of crashing water and rubber filled the air as Dorian, who was grudgingly impressed by the man-made rapids, walked out into the open of the Prague Rafting Centre. It was a massive place, somewhat intimidating beneath the grey skies, but Fenris seemed entirely relaxed, perhaps even excited.

They were greeted by a very attractive booker. Fenris and the man began speaking what Dorian presumed was rapid-fire Czech, laughing now and then. Dorian’s attention was mostly on the water outside, a massive swirling circle with drops and rocks, but… was Fenris _flirting_?

When the man trailed his fingers down the side of his neck, eyes bright from laughing, Dorian couldn’t help but swallow down a smile.

‘This is my friend, Dorian,’ Fenris said, switching back to English.

‘Hello, Dorian,’ the pretty man greeted with a mega-watt smile. ‘I’m Izak. First time?’

‘Actually, no,’ Dorian said, a little self-consciously. ‘I rafted when I was younger.’

‘Where?’

‘Thailand.’

‘Wow,’ Izak said, brow lifting. ‘Very impressive. I’ve never been but I hear it’s the best. Now, because you’re doing the extreme course and you’re in a cast, we’ll need a couple more—’

‘Extreme course?’

Izak smiled and looked back at Fenris who leaned against the front desk like some sort of eternally smug, serene _cat_. ‘We have you booked for the extreme course. High adrenaline,’ He winked at Dorian and added under his breath, ‘It’s not so scary, trust me. I’ll be with you and your beautiful friend here. And, as I was saying, we just need a couple more in the raft because you’ll only be able to paddle one handed. We can borrow a few hunky dudes from one of the groom parties, I’m sure.’

*

If standing around being given instructions about what to do if he went into the water was embarrassing and awkward, it was nothing to the shame of trailing after Fenris and Izak as they headed towards an _extremely_ rowdy stag party of at least fifteen. They were dripping wet from having been out on a previous course, currently sat around drinking beer and occasionally bellowing out the grooms name and making filthy, imaginative limericks to surround said name.

Dorian felt ridiculously conscious of the fact he was wearing a bright orange life jacket and a safety helmet. He’d… looked better. Cosmically fucking unfair that Fenris, who was wearing the exact same thing, looked pretty decent in all that orange.

Distantly, Dorian wondered how _Cullen_ would look in orange. Dripping wet hair, great big smile plastered over his face from all the adrenaline and the rush.

‘…to go?’

Dorian shook himself. ‘Eh?’

Izak smiled, gesturing to the two others he’d stolen from their herd. ‘We three are now five. Are you ready to go?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he heard himself say in a surprisingly normal way. Fenris, of course, leaned forward and introduced himself to the burly two, both of whom were American.

‘Fenris.’

‘Hey Fenris. I’m Bodhi.’

_Of course._

‘I’m Brendan.’

The pair looked to Dorian expectantly and he remembered that he was _human_ and therefore expected to do things like introduce himself.

‘Uh. Dorian.’

Brendan blinked with something that Dorian viciously denied was _recognition_ but it was gone after a split second and there followed much manly handshaking.

‘All right, who’s ready to get _wet_?’

*

Stepping into the raft, Dorian’s insides were twisting and tightening, fear twining with panic and it was _cold_. Proximity to the water and the overall state of Prague, even in June, meant that it was almost freezing. The raft was wet, water in the bottom and all over the areas intended for Dorian’s arse. He was right on the verge of asking for a towel to dry it when he remembered he was going to get drenched regardless. May as well make a head start.

Bodhi helped Dorian into the raft and Fenris sat beside him, paddle in hand. Izak got in last and pushed them away from the mini-dock, the force of the water beneath causing Dorian’s thighs to vibrate.

Fear morphed into excitement, his survival instinct kicking into drive as they began to paddle, building speed, the water tossing the raft around.

‘Everyone ready?’ Izak called back, grinning widely.

Dorian gripped his paddle hard.

*

‘You fuckin’ _back-flipped_ out of the raft when we hit that drop!’ Bodhi crowed, bent double like the laughter physically hurt. ‘Your legs were in the _air_ , man! I swear to God, if they have security cam footage, I will empty my 401K for it!

Brendan scowled and rolled his eyes. ‘It was a big drop, you asshole! Fuck you, you’re the one who _choked_ when you got water in your mouth from laughing!’

Dorian towel dried his hair, smiling at the heated interactions. The rest of the stag party were still out, completing a slalom of obstacles that Dorian’s raft had already overcome, though not without the loss of Brendan’s dignity.

Fenris shook his hair not unlike a wolf and changed into a dry t-shirt which read _Prague Rafting Rules_ on the front. While their clothes were dried, they were given dry bog standard clothes to sit around and relax in.

‘Let’s have a fucking beer, Jesus Christ,’ Brendan groused.

From the warm safety of the bar, they watched the water course and the men in the raft as they whipped around it. Dorian sipped a tall thin glass of an especially nice beer, sighing at his once more sodden and ruined cast. Experimentally, he tried to flex his thumb and found it moved without much complaint much to his surprise.

‘You held up well,’ Fenris commented, reaching for bar snacks.

‘Really? I feel like I barely did anything.’

‘You pulled your own,’ Fenris said. ‘Despite your hand. How are you feeling?’

Good. The answer was _good_. He felt alive and in control.

‘I feel like I’ve been taken out on a high-adrenaline junket to distract me from potentially problematic things happening back at the hotel,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘And I’m loving it. This is the best I’ve felt for a long time, but you don’t need to protect me. I know Cullen’s job, I know what it involves.’

‘You get panic attacks,’ Fenris stated without judgement. ‘Do you know specifically what triggers them?’

Dorian looked down at the ring left behind on the wooden bar surface by his glass, condensation rolling down the side. ‘To try and avoid them in the future, you mean?’

‘It’s possible. Cullen had panic attacks, you know.’

‘Leliana… mentioned something similar.’

‘Did she say why?’

‘No. I don’t want to pry. He’s entitled to his privacy.’

‘Lee is trying to organise a call today with Madeline.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah?’

‘That’s why… maybe it’s better if I’m not there.’

Fenris reached for an olive, tossing his prey high in the air before viciously capturing it with his mouth.

‘No. You’re _not there_ because today, Cullen has to work with someone you know. Cullen isn’t aware of the connection, but I was. You’ll see her when we get back but I wanted to prepare you.’

Dorian’s fingers tapped a rhythmless percussion against the bar. ‘Who is it?’

‘It’s Isabela Rivain.’

Oh, _ouch_.

‘Fucking _hell_ , why?’

Fenris’s brow creased ever so slightly. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s—’ Dorian waved and drank more cold beer. ‘It’s fine. She’s a big deal now, isn’t she? I don’t know, but the last time I saw her just over a year ago, she was on her way up the ladder.’

So, Cullen was promoting her. Oh God, that… no, _no_. Dorian was a full grown man. Twenty six years old for fuck’s sake, he was not going to throw a wobbly just because Cullen was interacting with someone from his _past_.

‘I suppose you know all about it,’ Dorian said, staring at the glowing neon sign above the bar. ‘From your vetting.’

‘I knew enough to give you some time to adjust to the idea that you’ll probably see her today.’

‘She’s—it’s _fine_. She was always nice to me, it’s just. Y’know.’

Fenris nodded like he _did_ know. Dorian wondered what Fenris actually knew from this _vetting_. What did it entail? Was it a folder of some sort?

_Bleugh_. Dorian did _not_ care.

‘Anyway,’ he said briskly, trying to move the conversation on as Bodhi and Brandon loudly greeted their returning friends. ‘It’s in the past.’

Fenris fell quiet and in that lull, in the slight dip of raucous greetings between manly men, Dorian’s attention was drawn to the sharp, _conspiratorial_ nudge by one of the men to Bodhi, looking at Dorian questioningly.

‘Was it him?’ Dorian heard him ask in what he probably thought was a quiet voice. ‘The _YouTube_ guy?’

*

‘It’s fine, stop fretting.’

Fenris, who most definitely was _not_ fretting, patted Dorian’s back. ‘I would have punched him for you.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Dorian sighed. They walked the quiet mid-afternoon streets behind the Rafting Centre, headed towards some kind of industrial estate. ‘It really is OK. It’s never nice, but it is what it is.’

‘I never understood why people say that,’ Fenris said. ‘It makes no sense and yet it’s stated with authority. To announce that something is unchangeable is to give it great power.’

‘Right, well, not all of us are trained killers,’ Dorian sniffed, trying to reign in the sickly sensation of rolling static. ‘Generally, in my life, when something shit happens, it tends to stay that way for a while.’

‘It stays that way?’

Dorian whirled around, almost stumbling, hands raised in front of him. ‘Look, just… _stop it_! I’m not stupid, I know what fucking _mirroring_ is, all right? I know what you’re doing, I know you’re handling me and I don’t need to be handled! I’m fine!’

Fenris was unreadable. ‘You’re not fine.’

Dorian’s back teeth ground together hard. ‘I am _fine_.’

‘No, you’re not. You haven’t been fine for a long time. You’re fucked up, Dorian.’

Oh, the fucking _prick_. It was a shaky, trembling thing, the anger that had no right to existence. How long had Dorian spent telling himself he was fine, crafting a paper thin wall between the world and himself, propping himself up day by day for some… some _arrogant arse_ to waltz into it and think he knew everything about him?

‘You don’t know me.’

‘I know enough.’

‘You know precisely _fuck all_!’

They were stopped in the middle of nowhere, a grey expanse of empty abandoned buildings, random words in artful graffiti the only colour for miles. It was empty enough that Dorian’s words echoed slightly, the reverberation of his own anger resonating in the cavity of his chest.

‘I know you’re not fine.’

Dorian laughed bitterly and turned away. ‘Take me back.’

‘Why?’

‘Just… call up Thom or whatever.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t start this, I’m serious.’

‘I read your medical file.’

Dorian froze, insides turning to ice. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything besides stand there with his back to the smaller man, caught like a deer in headlights.

‘He hurt you sometimes. It was always reported as accidental, but more than once, the incident report noted that the ER doctor had suspicions.’

Breathless, like he’d been winded, Dorian uttered, ‘How _dare_ you?’

‘You’re not fine.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this with you.’

‘You don’t have to be fine.’

Dorian turned, shaking with the effort of holding himself together. ‘The alternative,’ he said, purposefully slow. ‘Is to _not be here._ _’_

‘No,’ Fenris said, eyes shining with intensity. ‘The alternative is to _live_. The alternative to expending all your energy just to get through each hour, is to let people help you. Before, you did what you needed to. You survived and it’s testament to your strength, Dorian, but you don’t have to shoulder this alone.’

‘Sera and Lana—they don’t know. I never told them.’

‘That’s a lot to carry alone.’

Dorian dropped his gaze, a fine tremor running through him in a relentless rhythm. His skin felt hot, his mouth was dry. It was _fear_ , had him in its sights. Fear was… familiar in some ways. Fear and love blended all too easily, he knew.

‘It was accidental,’ Dorian heard himself say. ‘He’s a big guy.’

_Come on, kid, you know it was an accident. I_ _’m a big guy_.

‘You’re bigger than me,’ Fenris said reasonably. ‘Would you ever hurt me accidentally?’

‘I… that’s not the same.’

‘Because you were in a relationship.’

Through a tightly locked jaw, eyes burning, Dorian uttered, ‘You don’t know the first thing about it.’

‘So tell me.’

‘Go fuck yourself! I’m so sick of this.’

‘You’re sick of this?’

_‘Stop_ mirroring me!’

‘Why, don’t like what you see?’

He was too far gone to even care that tears spilled down his face when he closed his eyes. ‘What, you’re gonna let me _vent_ , are you? Let me punch you or some shit?’

‘No, I don’t let people hurt me.’

Dorian wanted to say something nasty, mention Fenris’s marks and lash out because the pain inside him was just _unbearable._ He wanted to give his rage breathing room, point it towards another… just like his _Ex_ had. 

‘Good for you,’ he said quietly, an ocean of _feeling_ beneath the light ripples of his words.

‘You’re not fine.’

Dorian threw up his arms. ‘No, I’m not. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear? I’m not fine. I’m never going to be fine again because the man I thought I loved, used me in every way possible and then made a joke out of me when he broke my fucking heart. He recorded it, he set it up and he smiled when I walked in the room. He smiled at me! He was fucking that _prick_ and they—they didn’t even stop. I had a ring on my finger and he was fucking someone else, someone I knew… and he had his little _lackey_ record the whole thing!’

It had started quiet, but as the words tumbled fourth, each one became louder until he was nearly screaming. Fenris stood there, listening and watching, expressionless and stony.

And Dorian couldn’t stop. ‘I was nothing but loyal to him! I memorised every single one of his songs, I loved them! I cared about the band, I changed who I was for him! Swapped out a life of stability for one with constant ups and downs. Moving, touring, sleeping on a fucking bus! Never enough money, never enough sleep! All his bad moods, all his _dark days_! I did everything I could for him and he repaid it by smiling at me when I found him fucking someone else. I wasn’t even worth an apology.’ Hands lifting to clutch at his hair, Dorian squeezed his eyes tight shut. ‘And I needed to _know_ things! I needed to ask at what point did he start planning it? When did he realise I was so fucking _worthless_ that the only value I had to him was as a viral video plastered all over the internet to promote an album… an album based on everything he hated about me. I loved him and he hated me enough to write songs about it! I needed to know if he ever once loved me but I just _ran_. I ran like a coward, like a fucking child and I haven’t been alive since that night. You know how… how they say photographing someone steals a piece of their soul? Well, that’s nothing to someone writing fourteen painfully personal songs about you and releasing it globally!’

Dorian dropped his hands, roughly wiping his face and meeting Fenris’s gaze. ‘So yeah, I’m not fine and I won’t ever be fine again so—so go ahead. Tell me I’m not good enough for your friend. I know where this is going. You don’t think I _know_?’ he laughed bitterly, sadly. ‘I know I’m not good enough for him. Christ, he’s the fucking _sun_ and I can’t even leave the house without having a panic attack! He’s everything I wish I was, he’s everything I…’

Only just, Dorian caught himself in time, slamming his eyes shut, lips pressing together. Saying that out loud was a bad, bad fucking idea.

‘I don’t belong here,’ he chose instead. ‘No matter how nice everyone is, no matter you putting this on my wrist and inviting me into it, I don’t belong in this life. I can’t function. People are always going to recognise me. They’re always going to _look_ and see. Those songs are out there, they’ll never _not_ be out there. What the fuck can I do about that? What can _anyone_ do about that?’

When he wiped his eyes that time, he left his hand there. Didn’t want to look, didn’t want to _be there_ , to see any of it anymore.

‘I’m so tired,’ he whispered. ‘I’m so fucking tired of it. Of this being my life. I hate what it does to me, hearing music. I hate dreading moments like that back there. Living in perpetual fear of a reaction I can’t control. I’m exhausted from trying to be fine and I’m _not_ fine.’ He sniffed loudly and shook his head. ‘I’m not fine.’

*

The journey back was quiet. Fenris hadn’t said much, nothing significant since Dorian was done talking. He’d let Dorian’s words exist, untainted, un-confronted. Gave him time to process. It was awkward and it was strange, but when someone other than Thom picked them up, Dorian just felt _drained._ He didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. He’d fucked up so much already, made things awkward with Cullen and now with Fenris too.

He felt lighter, but he felt… aimless.

Fenris sat up front in the car, giving Dorian space in the back but when the doors opened, he helped Dorian out, giving his hand a brief squeeze.

Standing by the car, still holding his hand, Fenris said, ‘I was taken and sold into slavery for two years when I was seventeen. Cullen and Leliana were the only ones who tried to find me. I don’t remember what happened or how I got these marks, but they hurt a lot, sometimes they burn. When I was found and returned, I wanted to be alone and I wanted to die. I couldn’t _remember_ what had happened, but my body did. It knew. Instead of dying, I leaned on the people I loved and let them save me again. You did the hard work, Dorian. You survived. It’s OK to let people help you when they want to. Cullen is someone who wants to help you and so do I. And _help_ can mean whatever you want it to. There is no single set path.’ Fenris let go and stepped back, smiling gently. ‘I think it would be quite something to be your friend, you know.’

Dorian swallowed. ‘I’m sorry for what happened to you.’

Fenris nodded. ‘I’m sorry for what happened to you.’

With a weak huff, Dorian chuckled. ‘A pair of sorry sad-sacks.’

‘These marks will never go, there’s no removing them,’ Fenris said as the car pulled away, leaving them in front of the Mandarin Hotel. ‘All I can do is carry on. Live my life the way I want to and bring myself to look in the mirror every day. Sometimes the best way to end a story is to start a new one.’

‘That’s very wise.’

‘Yes, I saw it on a wall decal.’

‘You saw it on a _decal_?’

With a slightly cheeky grin, Fenris crowed, ‘Now who’s mirroring?’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ Dorian groused, rolling his eyes but it there was no heat to it. No heat left, not _that_ kind anyway. ‘Look, I uh. I’m sorry about earlier.’

‘Don’t be sorry for saying what you feel. Life’s too short for anything less.’

‘You get that from a decal too?’

Fenris’s expression softened a touch. ‘Heard it in a song once.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Bull, you're officially a prick in this story, mate.  
> I'm probably going to to update again before Friday if you guys want.  
> Next chapter (Maybe tomorrow?): Isabela makes a cameo, plus we meet Sophia!❤ and Madeline 😢  
> Really hope you liked this update, let me know your thoughts and thanks so much for reading as always!


	12. Measuring the Vastness of Pastel Blue (Measuring The Sadness I See In You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this is no kind of schedule, but I say that to get through 2020, we need all the glitter we can get, right?  
> Enjoy!  
> 💜💜💜

The hotel room looked like a bomb had hit it. A bomb comprised of vintage fashion and five star lunches. Clothes were pretty much everywhere, bottles of champagne sat open on the main table where last night, Dorian had eaten home-made sushi with Cullen and the others. As they entered, Fenris peering around the corner and seeming displeased, Dorian heard peals of muted, soft feminine chatter.

‘She’s still here,’ he said, giving Dorian a brief apologetic smile.

And Dorian, who just wanted a bath while listening to ambient waterfall sounds on his phone, did his very best not to care.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, noting that Fenris had waited for his confirmation before letting the door close behind him. Dorian smelled perfume, the expensive kind. ‘I’ll uh… I’ll say hello.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, I know.’

He didn’t say that it was fine because in truth, it wasn’t, but it also wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Isabela had always been decent to him.

Fidgeting idly with the fraying edges of his cast, Dorian followed Fenris through the area that led to the adjoining bedrooms, the source of the noise.

There was an immediate shift in the tone as Fenris came into view, cleared his throat and Dorian turned the corner into the huge room just in time to see Leliana blink rapidly, mouth opening with no words to follow.

Isabela sat on the sofa, sprawled out casually, her legs over Josie’s lap while Leliana sat on the sofa opposite, as casually dressed as Dorian had ever seen her. Jeans and a white t-shirt, barefoot with very little makeup.

‘Dorian, it’s good to see you again,’ Isabela was saying and he wanted to look, he _wanted_ to but… but Leliana’s face was clean of makeup for a reason and that reason was plain.

She’d been crying.

‘Lee,’ Fenris said, starting forward. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Madeline.’

The atmosphere turned positively glacial. Fenris looked around. ‘Where is he?’

‘Outside,’ she gestured to the balcony doors leading to the rooftop patio. ‘It was my fault.’

‘Nothing that bitch does is your fault,’ he said calmly, sweeping past. As he went, he sort of stroked her face. Fingers under her chin, a brief swipe of his thumb along her cheek as he moved. There one second, gone the next. Had Dorian blinked, he would have missed it, might never have _believed_ it.

Fenris was outside before Dorian could think of anything to say and Isabela got to her feet.

‘Dorian?’ she tried again.

That time, there was no way to ignore her.

She was as beautiful as ever. Striking skin, a fraction darker than Josie’s. Short curly black hair, eyes similar in tone to Cullen’s shade of burnt gold. Plump red lips, the bottom one pierced. She had a few more piercings since the last time he’d clapped eyes on her. Nose, a couple in the upper ears. Her eyes were catlike and perfectly blackened with makeup. She wore jeans that were barely there, they were so ripped, with a scruffy powder blue hoodie and jackboots.

‘Hi Izzy,’ he greeted and tried to smile.

‘Hey.’ Her smile seemed genuine and when she hugged him, Dorian pretended that hug was because they’d once been something resembling friends, not born of _pity_. ‘You look fantastic.’

‘As do you,’ he said, patting her on the shoulder and wondering _why_ he was patting her on the shoulder. He could feel Josie watching him, but Leliana’s attention was firmly behind her, even though she wasn’t looking that way. ‘Fancy seeing you here, eh?’

She laughed and it was so familiar that something, old and ancient, tightened nervously in Dorian’s gut. ‘Fancy seeing _you_ here, more like. Come on, let’s raid the mini-fridge.’

‘There’s nothing good left,’ Josie pointed out, but that didn't deter Isabela.

‘There’s always something,’ she said, dropping to a low crouch and yanking open the small black door. Josie was right, it had been well and truly plundered, but low and hold towards the back, a box of Maltesers and a can of cherry coke. ‘Ah, such _treasures_!’

Dorian couldn’t help but force a very perfunctory smile, throwing a casual glance over his shoulder towards the balcony, unable to see Cullen or Fenris from such an angle, but knowing they were out there.

‘So,’ she said, returning to the lounge area, ripping open the box. ‘How’s you?’

A question Dorian fucking despised.

‘Real answer or politely fake one?’ he asked, well and truly out of fucks.

She cracked the can easily, never blinking. ‘Real, kitten. Always real.’

‘Not great,’ he said sitting beside Josie, leaning slightly on his knees. ‘My life has been very much _not great_ since last year.’

It was stupid. No, it was fucking _idiotic_. Inviting her to comment in an area of his life that he couldn’t _speak about_ without breaking out in a sweat. It was stupid and tantamount to self-harm in so many ways but he was so, so sick of it. Wanted to numb himself to it, wanted to be OK. How would he ever be OK unless he could talk about it?

Her brow furrowed. ‘I hate what he did.’

There it was. The direct result of his _stupidity_.

But… it didn’t hurt _that_ much. She wasn’t apologising. She wasn’t saying how bad she felt for him, at least.

‘He’s a fucking prick, always was,’ she went on, sneering slightly, offering the box of chocolates to Leliana who shook her head, staring into space. ‘I’m glad they’re tanking.’

Dorian looked down carefully, wondering how best to move the conversation away. Hearing about his ex was one thing, hearing about the _songs_ or their _music_ was another.

‘I suppose that’s the thing about bursting into fame through a one off niche. Hard to repeat,’ she sniffed. ‘I hired a lot of the others, you know. When they left, after… after it all went down, I put them on my crew. Only that _prick_ and a few others stayed with him, though it’s not surprising considering—’

‘Dorian,’ Leliana said, tone suddenly urgent. Her green eyes locked with his. ‘I think you can help.’

He’d been expecting an offer of falsified conversation in the service of rescuing him from where Isabela’s well-meant vitriol was leading. At this point, he was used to people rescuing him from being uncomfortable. He hadn’t truly been expecting it to be _real_ , her request.

But when he nodded, she shot up from the sofa, grabbing her phone from the nearby table.

‘Help with what?’ he asked, but really, he didn’t care. If it got him out of that conversation and did something to appease her sorrow then he was all for it.

‘With Madeline.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure what I can do there to be honest.’

‘Yeah, Lee,’ Isabela piped up, sounding suspicious. ‘What _can_ he do?’

Leliana was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, fingernails tapping a manic rhythm over the dark screen. ‘I’m considering dangling you.’

Dorian blinked, expression lax. ‘Beg pardon?’

‘In front of Madeline. She gets very jealous sometimes.’

‘Lee,’ Josie said softly, getting up from the sofa with a worried look. ‘No. This could backfire.’

Leliana’s mouth thinned. ‘It’s _my_ fault she wouldn’t let Sophia speak to him today.’

‘It is _no one_ _’s_ fault but Madeline’s, like Fenris said.’

‘But it could work,’ Leliana said quietly, voice low. ‘She might _want_ to see him, bring out her competitive side, maybe even make her more co-operative.’

Josie laid her hand over Leliana’s wrist, gently and kind. ‘Cullen would never allow it.’

Leliana pulled away. ‘Fuck what he’ll allow. He deserves to see his daughter.’

‘Um,’ Dorian said, waving his hand. ‘Would anyone like to fill in the tourist?’

With a huff, Leliana said, ‘I don’t know what Cullen has told you about Madeline, but she’s an absolute cunt.’

‘Whoa!’

‘ _Jesus,_ Lee.’

‘That word applies to one woman and one woman _only,_ _’_ the redhead said firmly. ‘She’s manipulative and vindictive in the extreme, but she’s also highly prone to emotional outbursts and mood swings. I _think_ if I dangle the idea of someone here that Cullen cares for, someone he likes… I think she’ll swing towards _wanting_ his attention again. Towards seeming like she’s being co-operative.’

‘To what end?’

‘Letting him speak to Sophia, obviously. It was supposed to happen today. The whole thing was organised and I… she called me to say that the most recent _instalment_ wasn’t what Cullen had agreed to pay and I may have lost my temper. She refused to allow the call to go as planned and stated that he would never speak to her again.’

Dorian winced. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘Yeah, _fuck_. But I think maybe if I could just let her see—’

‘No, Lee,’ Isabela said, surprisingly firm from where she half lay on the sofa, boots up on the cushions. ‘No.’

‘No?’

‘He’s not one to dangle.’

‘And like I said,’ Josie reiterated calmly. ‘Cullen won’t allow it.’

‘I uh,’ Dorian said and all three women looked at him. ‘I actually might have an idea that could work.’

‘Dorian,’ Josie said. ‘You shouldn’t—’

‘No, not that,’ he said quickly. ‘No, it’s something else. A trick I learnt when dealing with a pair of malevolent little bastards years ago.’

Leliana gave a small, earnest nod. ‘I’m all ears.’

*

‘OK, see what you think.’

Dorian handed Leliana’s phone over to her, the message typed out but not yet sent. With nothing to fill his hands, he tried not to fidget and waited while she read it, Isabela and Josie hovering over her shoulder. While they read, Dorian looked around the room. There was little evidence as to what had actually _happened_ while he was away on his _Boys Day Out_ with Fenris. Nothing to make it evident that Cullen was promoting Isabela, even though that was patently the truth of it.

He didn’t care about that anyway, not when Cullen was still out on the terrace with Fenris. Not when he might actually be able to help, for once.

‘I would rather die than send this,’ Leliana said, glaring at the words Dorian had written, pretending to be her.

Josie tapped the screen. ‘And yet, there it goes.’

*

Dorian was changing clothes in the adjoining room, alone with his door almost closed when he heard the tone shift, Cullen’s voice joining the mix. He yanked his t-shirt the rest of the way just a bit too hard and it almost tore at the hem, but he didn’t give a shit. He hurried into the space between the rooms, the lounge area where Cullen was standing, staring down at Leliana’s phone with wide eyes, slightly red rimmed from where… oh, from where he’d been _crying_.

They were all standing around the phone, all but Isabela who was nearby drinking champagne from the bottle, smirking at the four of them.

And they lifted their equally astonished expressions towards Dorian.

Oh no. He’d made it _worse_.

‘Motherfucker,’ Leliana said quietly and Dorian wondered if it was going to _hurt_ when she killed him. ‘How did you do that?’

‘What?’ he blurted out.

He had little time to ask for clarification though because Cullen was moving towards him fast, faster than people were generally meant to move without running and again, Dorian’s instincts were flaring that he was _In Trouble._ Except that Cullen wrapped his arms around Dorian. He hugged him the way a bear might hug a tree. It was a great big thing, all arms and gruff gratitude. Dorian did everything he could to let it sink in, that the message had _worked_.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said quietly, voice starkly in contrast with how hard he was squeezing Dorian.

It was only when Dorian patted him on the back, not wanting to risk actually hugging him in return, that Cullen let go, attempting a shaky, poorly constructed smile.

‘Thank you,’ he repeated. ‘She’s uh. She’s going to let me talk to her today by video chat. I can’t thank you enough.’

The sincerity shone through, bright and beautiful, taking aim at Dorian’s heart. He felt so much in that moment, but most of all, something like _empathy_ drew him all the closer to Cullen. Dorian realised they’d both had a shit day, a shit time of it really and it gave him strength that for _once_ , he’d actually been able to do something good for someone else.

Even if it _had_ been a grovelling message, interlaced with the kind of emotional manipulation he’d once been fully equipped with. Ah, Dorian of the Past, what a smart little fucker he’d been.

How disgusted he would be to know what he’d one day become.

‘You left your phone here, by the way,’ Isabela called out, causing Cullen to step away, perhaps realising they were standing flush together. ‘It’s been vibrating more than my bedroom on a Sunday morning.’

Josie laughed while Leliana continued to stare at Dorian intensely. Fenris was speaking to her, saying something in low tones. She was clearly _listening_ , but it was Dorian who held her focus.

She nodded at Fenris and then made her way over to Dorian too.

‘Thank you,’ she said, piling onto the gratitude bus. ‘My idea was terrible. Yours, while painful and beyond contemplation, it actually worked. Thank you very much.’

Cullen glanced at her. ‘What was _your_ idea?’

‘So,’ Dorian said swiftly. ‘It’s a video call?’

It was easy to rescue Leliana, to bring Cullen’s attention back because the man was just so clearly excited to speak to his daughter. Cullen’s smile damn near broke Dorian’s heart, it was so fragile and hopeful. ‘Yeah, that’s what she said.’

Dorian wanted to ask to see the reply message, to take the measure of this _Madeline,_ but it wasn’t his place.

‘That’s so great,’ he said, hand on Cullen’s upper arm, squeezing encouragingly which… yeah, that was a big fucking arm and it was firm. ‘I’m really glad.’

Leliana asked, ‘How did you know that would work?’

Dorian shrugged. ‘My months embroiled in financial war with the Trevelyan twins taught me a thing or two about Pyrrhic victories and how to avoid them by playing dead. I also found that there’s nothing so alluring to greedy people as being offered the illusion of generosity.’

‘Make her think she’s being generous by letting Cullen see his own daughter?’

Cullen tipped his head, eyebrow slanting. ‘Lee, come on.’

‘No,’ she said hurriedly, still frowning. ‘No, I’m not criticising. I just want to understand it, that’s all.’

She waited and so Dorian went ahead cautiously. ‘Well, yeah. When you make demands of people, their instinct is usually to clam up, grab what they can and keep it from you. But this way, even though it’s painful and somewhat degrading, they feel secure in their power. Generous about letting you have something that means nothing to them anyway. It makes them feel good.’

Dorian didn’t add where _else_ he’d learnt that, no need to source it. He could feel the intensity of Cullen’s stare, of how closely he was being watched by Fenris and even Isabela. He hated the scrutiny, but Leliana generously swept in to rescue him.

‘Hmm, well. I owe you one,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for helping me to fix it.’

Dorian nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Cullen, go wash your face,’ she said gently, nudging him.

It took a good few seconds for Cullen to actually move and when Dorian lifted his gaze, he found Cullen’s there, fixed upon him. A weighty thing, heavy and full of loaded silence.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said softly. ‘Good idea.’

*

Isabela was leaving, her people waiting outside the hotel room door. She had some _Big Thing_ that night and despite everyone else tiptoeing around it, Dorian knew that she was performing and that Cullen would be there, promoting her.

He wished her well and at the door, while the others were busy preparing for the call, she wrapped her thin, strong fingers around his wrist and looked him dead in the eye.

‘I don’t tour with him anymore and I don’t gig with him,’ she said, frankly. ‘He’s a fucking piece of shit for what he did to you and even before, I always hated how he was, how he treated you.’

Dorian’s whole body tightened up involuntarily, muscles locking, heart on high alert for pain, but before he could say a word, she went right on.

‘Cullen’s not like him at all,’ Isabela said. ‘He’s a good bloke, decent and kind. I’ve known him for years and I can safely say, he’s nothing like _him_.’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian huffed. ‘Yeah, I got that.’

‘He’s crazy about you, you know that, right?’

Good thing his heart was ready for it. ‘I really don’t think that’s—’

‘All he did was talk about you all day. It was rather sickeningly sweet.’

Her people were waiting, buzzing around behind her as she stood, half in half out of the door. She showed no interest in them, golden eyes watching Dorian with rapt focus.

‘Don’t let what he did to you stop you from being happy,’ she said quietly. ‘Cullen is one of the good ones. A bit vanilla for my tastes, but a good man is a rare breed as you know. I know you hate the music business and I don’t blame you.’ Isabela tipped her head, pausing for a moment. ‘I don’t know, maybe it’s doomed.’

Dorian’s lips parted indignantly. ‘It’s not _doomed_!’

She sighed exaggeratedly. ‘It might be. Star Cross’d roommates and all that. Wanting to be together but you just _can_ _’t_!’

‘Fuck off, you,’ he said, half rolling his eyes. ‘Go on.’

She grinned and winked. ‘Well, at least try him out before you decide!’ was her parting shot before the doors closed.

*

‘No, stay,’ Fenris said, when Dorian went to give Cullen some privacy. The video call was being cast to the screen in the lounge area, Cullen freshly washed and sat on the sofas, his foot bouncing fast in a nervous rhythm.

‘Oh, uh,’ Dorian said, looking back at Fenris. ‘Well, surely not.’

‘You can lurk with us,’ Josie offered, hovering in the doorway and out of the framed shot from where Cullen’s phone sat on a tripod beside the large TV. ‘Come on, you’ll want to see her, she’s adorable.’

Dorian _did_ want to see Sophia, couldn’t deny his curiosity, but he still felt oddly hesitant to infringe.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe I should—’

Cullen sensed he was attempting to leave.

‘Stay?’ he said, hitting Dorian with the high grade _Hopeful Puppy_ _Eyes_.

So Dorian stayed.

He hovered with Fenris and Josie, in the doorway, just out of frame and Leliana stood on the other side.

Cullen was so palpably nervous, complete with hand-wringing, leg jiggling and shallow, shaky breaths.

Dorian itched to soothe him, to tell him he was fine, that he was perfect and had nothing to worry about, but that might have been a _tad_ bit awkward.

When the call went through, even Dorian’s stomach was tied in knots.

A woman answered. Dorian’s immediate impression of her was that she was… well, beautiful. She had a full face of expertly applied makeup, the kind that Sera and Lana were obsessed with trying to recreate from YouTube tutorials, but could never afford the products used. Her hair was long and wavy, bouncing around her shoulders as she moved her phone somewhere stable, watching herself for a second before brown eyes moved onto Cullen.

She pushed her hair back. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said. ‘I can hear you. Hi, Madeline.’

She nodded, assessing him coldly. ‘You look bigger. It’s not a bad look, I suppose.’

‘Thanks. You look lovely.’

She snorted. ‘Don’t get desperate. Just to be very clear, you _are_ agreeing to the retroactive back-payments then? Because it should have been this amount the whole time, so you owe it to me. I’m not being unreasonable, asking for the money you owe your own daughter.’

It was barely there, but Dorian saw the way in which Cullen swallowed ever so slightly. ‘Yes, I agree. Lee has drawn up a new payment plan and I’ll make the payments whenever you like, weekly or monthly.’

Madeline’s gaze was sharp. ‘So, you agree you should have been paying me this the whole time?’

‘I agree to pay what you requested, yes.’

‘Then why weren’t you paying it before? Or does she mean so little to you?’

Dorian couldn’t _quite_ believe what he was seeing. It was a good thing he was sandwiched between Josie and Fenris, because otherwise he wasn’t entirely sure of what he’d do. Across the room, on the other side of the door, Leliana was on her phone as usual, typing without needing to look down, gaze affixed on the woman on the 65 inch flatscreen instead.

‘She means everything to me,’ Cullen said, measured and controlled but Dorian heard the tremor in it. ‘And I don’t want to argue. We’ve agreed to what you asked.’

That still didn’t seem to please her. ‘I shouldn’t have to threaten cutting you off from her to make you co-operate. You should _want_ her to have nice things, Jesus Christ.’

‘I do.’

‘Then make the fucking payments on time!’ she snarled, so vicious that it made Dorian sick to his stomach.

‘I will.’

She was riled and Dorian could practically _feel_ it in the way her teeth ground together, in the way her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed. She wanted to fight with him but Cullen was rolling over, was offering no fight in return.

Her lips curled and she sneered, ‘As pathetic as ever.’ In the next breath, she looked to the side and called out, ‘Soph, come say hi to Daddy!’

Madeline got up and vacated the sofa. Dorian waited, hearing thudding footsteps and then a small child came flying into view. A little girl with dark brown hair, pale skin and a huge bright grin. She wore her hair in plaits and a rather muddied _My Little Pony_ t-shirt with jeans. Dorian watched her climb up onto the sofa, half looking back the whole time.

 _‘Daddy_! Daddy, Daddy, I was playing in the garden and I found little snakes!’

 _‘Worms,’_ Madeline corrected distractedly, somewhere offscreen.

‘Yeah,’ Sophia said, kicking her legs excitedly against the base of the sofa. ‘I found little worms under the ground and I helped them because they were thirsty.’

Cullen had one hand pressed to his mouth while she talked, eyes bright and smiling.

‘Is that right, baby? Were they big ones or tiny tiddlers?’

‘One was so big! I wasn’t scared though.’

‘Of course you weren’t!’

‘I watered it, like a flower,’ Sophia said proudly. ‘Daddy I missed you lots and lots, where are you? Are you coming here for my birthday?’

‘I hope so darling, but even if I can’t see you, I’m gonna get you lots and lots of presents.’

Sophia nodded. ‘Mummy said you would. She said I can have anything I want.’

‘Of course you can, baby. But I will try my best to be there. How is your new nursery?’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I have nine friends and two boyfriends.’

Cullen laughed. ‘Boyfriends? Are they very, very nice to you?’

‘Hmm, Alex is nice to me,’ Sophia said, furrowing her brow as she considered. ‘But Ryan is mean sometimes.’

‘Oh well,’ Cullen said. ‘Maybe he shouldn’t be your boyfriend.’

‘He has nice shoes though,’ Sophia said as if that explained everything. ‘Daddy, where are you? Are you in the big London?’

‘No, I’m not in England right now.’

‘Where are you then?’

‘I’m in Prague.’

Sophia wrinkled her nose. ‘Where is _Parg_?’

‘Prague,’ he explained. ‘Is in Europe. It’s a tiny little place and it’s not very warm.’

‘But it’s sunny here!’ Sophia said grinning. ‘If you wear sun-cream, you can come here and play in the garden with me.’

Cullen cleared his throat only a little before he said, ‘I would love to, sweetheart, but Daddy is a bit busy with work right now. Maybe when I get back we can see each other.’

‘Can I come and stay with you when you get back from Parg?’

Madeline walked past behind the sofa and scoffed loudly. Dorian had never wanted to hit a woman quite so much in his life.

‘Maybe,’ Cullen said, not letting Madeline darken his mood. ‘Tell me about what you’re doing tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow I’m playing in the garden and watching my iPad. Mummy’s friend is coming to stay,’ she added in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. Dorian watched as Sophia got down from the sofa and moved nearer the TV. This close, Dorian could see the dark brown shade of her lovely eyes. ‘Daddy, I don’t like Mummy’s new friend. She says I can call him Daddy too if I want, but I don’t wanna.’

The atmosphere in the room plummeted by about thirty degrees. Dorian’s mouth dropped open and everyone seemed frozen, all but Cullen.

‘Well,’ Cullen said, in a surprisingly normal kind of way. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’

‘I heard them talking,’ she whispered, close enough now that her face filled up most of the screen. ‘They were talking about you, Daddy. Is he your friend too?’

‘I don’t know, honey. What’s his name?’

‘Sophia, get away from the screen!’ Madeline snapped, sending a jolt of alarm through Dorian. ‘You’ll hurt your eyes, come on. Back on the sofa.’

Sophia climbed back up but this time Madeline sat with her.

‘Tell Daddy about your birthday party!’ she encouraged cheerfully, seeming almost an entirely different person with one arm wrapped around her daughter.

Sophia smiled. ‘Daddy, I am having a big party and do you know where?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘In _DISNEYLAND_! Can you believe it, Daddy? Mummy says I’m going to have the best birthday anyone has ever seen! Are you going to come too? _Pleeeeeease_?’

Madeline watched Cullen, calm and knowing. Dorian knew a master player when he saw one.

‘I’ll see what I can do, how’s that?’ Cullen said after a pause in which Dorian suspected he was deciding what to say.

Sophia seemed to deflate a bit, but nodded. ‘OK, Daddy.’

‘Soph, go check on your worms,’ Madeline said, patting her shoulders to encourage her off the sofa again even though she’d just sat down. ‘Go on, you don’t want them to die.’

Oh, Dorian fucking _hated_ her. 

‘Bye Daddy!’ the little girl said, waving both hands. ‘Can we talk again tonight before bed? I can read you a good story.’

This time, there was no way to miss the fact that Cullen was a bit choked up when she said, ‘We’ll see, sweetheart. Go and have fun in the garden and make sure you wear a hat. Do you know how much I love you?’

Sophia grinned and extended her arms. ‘This much?’

Cullen’s arms went wider, almost outside of the barrier of the screen. ‘ _This_ much!’

‘I love you ice cream much!’ she giggled.

‘I love you guitar much,’ Cullen laughed, throat a little thick. ‘Say hi to your worms for me.’

She dashed off and Madeline watched her go before bringing her cold gaze back to Cullen.

‘I’ve already booked it,’ she stated flatly.

‘Madeline,’ Cullen said in the closest thing to a _firm_ voice Dorian had yet heard. ‘You can't go abroad right now, we talked about this.’

‘No, _you_ rambled about your fucking pathetic _stalker_ and then we had to _move_ , Cullen. Do you have any idea how traumatic that was for her? Yanked from her home, away from all her friends and the stability of her life because you've made it too _dangerous_ for us to stay where we were?’

‘You can't take her abroad.’

Madeline rankled instantly, crossing her arms. ‘You can’t tell me what to do with her. You have no _say_. You have no custodial rights and you know it. I could move her to another country and never tell you where, how would you like that?’

‘It’s for your safety, both of you.’

‘It’s _Disneyland._ I hardly think we’ll be kidnapped or whatever the fuck while we’re in Disneyland, get a grip, will you? If you want to come,’ she sighed, examining her nails. ‘You can. Though I suppose you’ll want to bring your new little _boy toy_ , won’t you?’

Oh, fucking Christ.

‘What?’

Madeline sneered, settling back into the sofa. ‘I saw the post,’ she said, lip curling. ‘The little pictures of you two holding hands. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that will be for Sophia when she’s old enough to understand?’

‘He’s a friend.’

‘Oh yeah? I bet he’s there in the room,’ she chuckled. ‘Still so needy that you can’t function without all your little _friends_ around you. Who is he? Or are you keeping that a secret? He had a nice arse, but aside from that, I didn’t get a look at his face.’

Cullen took a deep breath. ‘Madeline, please don’t take Sophia to Disneyland for her birthday.’

‘Oh my God, will you listen to yourself? Who do you think you are, giving me orders about _my_ daughter? I’m the one raising her, I’m the one sacrificing their life to raise her!’

‘I’m not giving orders, I’m just asking you to think—’

‘Playing the cheapskate now, are you? Christ, I don’t know why I let you be a part of her life as it is. She deserves a _real_ Father.’ Madeline set her gaze low and cruel before she added, ‘Like I deserved a _real_ man.’

It hung there, cold and sharp in the air between the static of their connection. Dorian wondered what Cullen would say, if he was going to react to that the way Dorian might have.

But Cullen didn’t. He showed no anger, no hint of how those words _must_ have hurt.

‘I just want to protect you both.’

‘Consider yourself lucky I even allow you to speak to her. You’re nothing to her, Cullen. She’s not your blood, not your child. Your place in her life is contingent upon _my_ generosity.’

Dorian could tell that Cullen wanted to say something to that, had to swallow down some measure of the _fight_ that Dorian burned for him to embrace. He saw it in the lines of his back, in the tension of his body, the whites of his knuckles.

‘Thank you for letting me speak with her,’ he said in a colourless tone, absent of inflection, dead and practised. ‘I appreciate it.’

Madeline tossed her hair, red lips curving in a smiling sneer. ‘You can show that _appreciation_ by paying what you owe me.’

‘I will.’

‘ _If_ you do,’ she said slowly. ‘Then like I said, you can come with her to Disneyland. I won’t deny that she’d love to have you there, she still asks about you non-stop. You could take her for whole days. Might be nice. I could hit the spas, have a break and you can have some quality time.’

She offered it lightly, but Dorian knew she was fully aware of what it was she was dangling. Time with Sophia, time that he wouldn’t get otherwise, especially not if he tried to dissuade her.

‘Madeline, I’ll pay whatever you want to give her a party _here_ , please.’

She looked at him with disgust. ‘How can you be so _weak_? How did I ever let you fuck me? Maybe the world should know about it, about how _pathetic_ you really are. Do you have any idea how much money I could make by going to the tabloids?’

‘Not enough,’ Cullen said tightly, staring off to the side.

‘Yeah, so keep the payments coming and I’ll keep my silence. I don’t understand why you’re not jumping for joy at what I’m offering. You can take her for the whole week, pretty much. As if I want to stand around queueing for rides all day. She starts school in September, you won’t get many more chances like this again.’

Dorian saw the moment that Cullen gave in; a quiet, crushing surrender.

‘If I agree, will you let me bring security?’

‘If by _security_ , you mean short stack and the witch, do whatever you like, so long as it doesn’t upset Sophia. I don’t want her knowing what a paranoid wreck her _Daddy_ is, understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘Good, oh and tell Lee I _loved_ her apology, even if it was obviously written by someone else. I’ll send you the bill for Disneyland, make the rest of the payments on time and I’ll see you there.’

The screen went black and silent. Nobody moved at first, Dorian didn’t even breathe. The silence went on, stillness increasing the awkwardness tenfold and Dorian didn’t understand why Cullen had wanted anyone to be there for such a conversation.

When the silence became almost unbearable and Dorian was on the verge of blurting out something apologetic just to break it, Cullen stood.

He spoke quietly to Fenris. ‘Is it doable?’

Fenris didn’t answer right away. ‘A place like that has too many variables. It’s impossible to make it completely secure.’

‘She’ll take her, either way.’

‘Then it’s safer if we go too.’

‘I’ll call ahead, start greasing wheels with their security,’ Josie said, already on her phone. ‘Dorian, are you coming?’

But Dorian wasn’t really listening, didn’t have an answer about whether or not he was going to fucking _Disneyland_. His focus was elsewhere, his heart stuck in the awful things Madeline had said. It was almost as if she’d said them to _him._ The casual cruelty scalded beneath his skin, sent his insides twisting like a nest of angry snakes, his skin flushing hot and shameful.

He knew all too well how it felt to be put down like that in front of people. To be put low, like it was fact.

And when he moved forward, when he offered Cullen his arms for comfort, it was because Dorian knew what it felt like to _need_ that comfort… but he’d never had anyone move forward to give it. Backstage in front of dozens, wishing someone would fight his corner just once… he knew how it felt to want that little bit of solidarity.

It was for himself as much as Cullen, that hug and Cullen didn’t push him away, didn’t make excuses or try to laugh it off. They met with soft warmth and caring touch. Such a strange thing, cuddling. Here, have my body, let it make you feel better somehow.

Cullen’s arms around Dorian’s back felt like gratitude, like trust.

‘Your daughter is beautiful,’ Dorian said quietly, chin over Cullen’s shoulders, chest to chest. ‘She’ll be safer with you and the others.’

Cullen nodded, arms tightening just a fraction, dropping his head enough to press a brief kiss to the place where Dorian’s neck met shoulder before he moved away.

The touch of his lips was like a shock, like contact with a live wire except the electricity was buried right in Dorian’s core. A flash of light and a flicker of heat that had his heart scrambling to catch up with _what in the actual fuck_ had just happened. 

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said wiping his eyes, voice rough. ‘Thank you for staying.’

Dorian, who was still reeling from the latest addition to his _Cullen Is Really Tactile That’s All_ folder, still didn’t understand _why_ ; would have thought a conversation like that would be easier to deal with in private but then… maybe Cullen didn’t _want_ to deal with it in private. Internalise all the vitriol and spite, hide it from the others with a cheery smile and crush it down. Maybe Cullen dealt with things differently.

‘Of course,’ Dorian heard himself say and when he looked down, he realised Cullen was holding his hand, fingers gently clasping those of his left. Cullen’s thumb moved up and down the side of his index fingers, absent movements but it took Dorian a while to realise what he was seeing, what he was feeling.

It wasn’t _new_ because… because they’d had this whole thing last night, massive confusing conversation and so he _knew_ how Cullen felt about him, he did.

But this was the first time he felt it.

Felt more than desire, more than lust, more than praise eliciting a broken breath from lips that Dorian badly wanted to know the feel and taste of. 

This was the first time he really _felt_ the shape of Cullen’s feelings for him.

A small point of contact, not even that unusual for them because Cullen _was_ naturally tactile, at least with people he trusted. _A friend_ , he’d called Dorian, denying anything to the contrary when teased by Madeline but Dorian knew it just wasn’t true, at least not in terms of feelings. Last night it had been muddled. The kind of thing that he’d automatically set aside, determined not to even consider because Cullen was completely out of his league. Because Dorian was not _functional_. Because Cullen worked in the music industry. Because Dorian would drag him down. Because they lived together.

Because Dorian wasn’t _ready_ to risk losing someone as amazing as Cullen by trying to get _more_.

But when he looked down at their hands, he realised that Cullen was in some ways not so very different to Dorian. That Cullen himself wasn’t _functional_ , at least not without the people around him. That Cullen understood what it was like to be broken by someone he cared about.

Dorian likely should have pulled away when Cullen brought his hand to scarred lips and pressed a dry, brief kiss to the back of that as well. Two kisses in less than a minute and the others were all standing around. Lee, Fenris and Josie were in the same room, likely pretending not to watch and fucking hell, Dorian _knew_ he should pull back.

Standard issue nervous laugh, back slap, sack it the fuck _up_ and style it out, style it all out.

But he didn’t employ that tactic. He let Cullen have his hand. Thin skin and bird like bones, kissed just once and then Cullen let him go with what might have passed for a smile, shaky and sad.

‘Thank you, Dorian,’ Cullen said again, but Dorian had the distinct impression that his gratitude came from somewhere else that time. From another place, coloured by something entirely different.

He didn’t even realise he was watching Cullen walk away, headed for Leliana while Fenris followed. It was only when Josie stepped into his view that he shook himself, heart pounding.

‘Dorian?’ she said kindly. ‘Why don’t we get some air together?’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:8k of Josie wisdom, Dorian having a change of heart and... ahem... bed sharing. 💜💜💜


	13. Like An Apple On A Tree, Hiding Out Behind The Leaves (I Was Difficult To Reach, But You Picked Me)

‘It’s not unusual, you know.’

‘To be loved by anyone?’

Josie shot him a wry smile. ‘I’ve worked with people like Cullen before and sometimes,’ Josie said, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. ‘Sometimes they _collect_ others.’

‘Collect?’

‘Yes. People they bring along, people who become anchors to the real world. Cullen has never really needed someone like that before. He has no struggle with reality, keeps himself very much in the real world day in, day out. It’s something I’ve always admired about him.’

Dorian eyed her dubiously. ‘I saw how much this suite cost. It’s not exactly _real world_ to me.’

She handed Dorian a small glass of what was no doubt freshly squeezed orange juice from a glittering pitcher. He thought of home, of what was in his fridge before he met Cullen. A bottle of Sunny D, maybe. Tropicana was too expensive and the own brand orange juice of any shop was usually bitter and acidic, nothing resembling an actual orange in it. This was sweet and fresh, absolutely pure without a trace of pulp. Nectar of the fucking _Gods_ and all Dorian could do was miss his Sunny D.

‘Are you complaining?’

‘Not at all.’

‘You had money when you were younger, Fenris mentioned.’

‘I was born into a wealthy family, yes.’

‘What was it like?’

‘I didn't really notice it until it was gone, actually.’

‘That must have been a wild ride,’ she said, looking out at Prague with a grin, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s like something from a movie, isn’t it? Riches to rags. How charming!’

Dorian gave into her overwhelmingly lovely demeanour and did not correct Josie about some of the harsher realities he’d been faced with. ‘I remember the first time I made fried eggs at 3am for me and my friends after coming back from a nightclub. That was one of the best feelings of my whole life.’ She smiled, her attention on him in a soothing way. ‘So, he’s collecting me, is that it?’

‘A little, perhaps,’ she said lightly, settling back into the chair, cool winds of Prague twining with the heating lamps. ‘But not in a bad way.’

Dorian sipped his juice, mind whirling.

‘What happened last night?’ she asked. Her dark eyes were set on the scrape up his left hand. Fenris had to have told them already, if not Cullen himself.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, as dismissively as possible. ‘Went for a walk. Got jumped. Such is my luck.’

‘Prague is dangerous.’

Dorian chuckled, lifting his wrist. ‘Yes, I think I got the memo.’

‘What did you think of the show, before that?’

‘I think he could be big, you know,’ he answered quietly, recalling the small show last night, _before_ he’d ruined everything by running away like a child. ‘I mean, he’s already a big deal with what he does right now, I’m not blind,’ he added, gesturing around. ‘But it wouldn’t take much for him to, uh.’ He paused, nodding slowly. ‘To move sideways. You probably already know that.’

Cullen was _talented_. He was talented as all out fuck, more so than Dorian’s piece of shit _ex_ , who’d relied on abundant charisma and thundering bass to cover what he lacked in true vocals. It would be easy to make a transition from promoting music to _being_ an actual musician, a real one. He had all the people in place. He had the industry knowledge.

But then Dorian thought of Madeline. Of her spiteful threats about _tabloids_ and he wondered if that was why it hadn’t already happened.

‘I’d like to know more about you,’ Josie said, pretty features illuminated by a brief glimpse of reluctant late afternoon sun. ‘Get to know you on a deeper level. How do you feel about that?’

‘Not so great.’

‘Can I ask why?’

Dorian blew air through his teeth, but he wasn’t angry, frustrated at himself perhaps. ‘Think of it like lifting a really big rock that’s been in one place for a long time. You really _don_ _’t_ want to see what’s under there.’

‘Would it surprise you to learn that I do, actually, want to know?’

‘To protect Cullen?’

‘To know you, Dorian. There doesn’t need to be a motive.’

‘You’re in PR.’

‘I am.’

‘I just thought… maybe you wanted to know more so you could—’

‘I slept with Leliana once.’

Dorian’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. ‘Pardon?’

Josie grinned. ‘It was a weird morning. She and I had been out together, partying the night before. We were in our early twenties, so wonderfully _lacking_ in ambition back then. It was all very sapphic. Very passionate. Things went right back to normal afterwards, it never happened again and it didn’t affect our friendship. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined it,’ she chuckled. ‘But then I see Lee in a swimsuit and I know I didn’t imagine that bellybutton piercing, I still remember how the metal tasted.’

‘Oh _God,_ _’_ Dorian cringed weakly. ‘Can we… let’s not share _this_ much, eh?’

‘Sharing is good,’ she argued casually. ‘It’s how Cullen copes, you know. He has no secrets from us, nothing hidden. He learnt long ago that keeping things buried inside of him was bad. He’s one of the very few people I’ve ever met who is completely comfortable in asking for what he needs.’

Tentatively, hoping they were back in safer territory, Dorian asked, ‘How long have you known him?’

‘I met him through Lee when I was twenty-two, so about six years. He was quite different then. A little shyer.’ She smiled fondly, likely recalling _Shy_ _Cullen_. Dorian wondered what that would look like, who that younger, shyer man might be. Who was _Dorian_ six years ago?

Not broken, not damaged. Listening to music and spending ridiculous amounts of time with his friends, so _many_ friends. Getting by on barely anything, taking turns to make dinner for each other because they were all so poor, but it was always _fun_. Six years ago he hadn’t met _Hardiss_ fucking _Lilbourn._ Six years ago he was twenty and he had his whole life ahead of him. Clubbing and kissing, body glitter and laughter. Laughing at every bad thing that happened because from sixteen onward, he’d been captain of his own fate, built a bright, brilliant little life from scratch.

Six years ago Dorian had been King of the fucking world and Cullen, twenty-two year old Cullen had been _shy_. The flip-side might have been almost funny, had it not been so painfully stark.

‘He was with Madeline then.’

Her smile faded. ‘Yes. Those were… unpleasant times for Cullen. She did terrible things to him.’

 _I know the feeling_ , Dorian thought grimly, hating himself for the automatic comparison to his own shit-show of a life. The difference being, that Cullen had mostly come _through_ his shit and Dorian… Dorian was still struggling.

‘We were so relieved when she broke up with him,’ Josie went on. ‘He would never have done it himself. Of course, she doesn’t need to be _with_ him to cause problems in his life as you saw.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So, I would like to get to know you. Not for PR purposes, but just because it seems like you’ll be around for a while.’

Dorian played with the condensation on the side of his glass, fingertips wet and cold. ‘I mean, I have to go home _eventually_.’

‘As we all do, but I find it hard to imagine Cullen wanting to go anywhere without you. It’s going to be a problem, I suspect. For instance, I doubt that you’d want to come to Coachella in July.’

Body locking up slightly, Dorian tried to keep himself neutral. ‘Yeah, I don’t think I’d be up for that.’

‘Do you think you’ll come to Disneyland in two weeks?’

‘I…’ Dorian shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

Instead of insisting that she needed an answer for the purposes of booking, Josie simply nodded. ‘It can be a lot,’ she said after a beat of pleasant silence. _‘They_ can be a lot. They’re this strange little triangle, known each other forever. I spend time away from them, sometimes just to get my bearings. I love them, of course. I love them all. They’re my family in many ways and I spend more time with them than those of my blood, but I understand. They’re intense.’

Dorian exhaled shakily, smiling with tentative relief that she understood. ‘They can be.’

‘And they don’t really _understand_ that someone might have a life _outside_ of their triangle. They’re like a mini centre of gravity, pulling much of the world towards them. It can be overwhelming. If you don’t want to come, that’s perfectly all right.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to come,’ he said, settling back. ‘It’s just that I’m not sure why I’m here.’

‘You’re the anchor,’ she pointed out kindly. ‘You’re _his_ anchor.’

‘But you said he’s not like that, doesn’t need one.’

‘He didn’t, until he met you. You see this hotel?’ Dorian nodded, because fucking _obviously_ he saw it. ‘Cullen usually has no interest in where we stay. He doesn’t care about things like this. He doesn’t do spa days. He cooks for us, he’s always done that but not every day and he certainly doesn’t _care_ about what he wears to work.’

She said it while smiling, like it was a good thing and maybe it was. ‘He’s held onto himself for years, maybe always. Raised his siblings, protected and saved those he loves. The three of them have made a career, a living mechanism of creation and functionality and Cullen is all too aware that his career is also _theirs_. I’ve never seen him enjoy his surroundings like this.’ Josie leaned closer, resting her chin on her hand. ‘I’ve never heard him sing like that, either.’

‘I uh. I’m not sure what to say to that.’

‘You don’t need to say anything. I’m merely speaking my truth, hoping to know yours one day if you ever wanted to share. But as I said before, I would perfectly understand if you did not want to come with us. Fenris put a bracelet on you. Cullen wants to bring you everywhere. Even Lee wanted to dangle you to Madeline. They ask a lot and they give a lot in return, but they make a whole world between the three of them. A vortex. Like all wonderful, exciting things, it can be tiring. Think about Disneyland. If you make a decision that you’re happy with, let me know. Either way, there will be a place for you. No pressure.’

*

_No pressure_ , she’d said and Dorian did not doubt her intent, but come the fuck on. No pressure. Right.

_‘Motherfucker, where were you? We thought you were dead!’_

Dorian sighed patiently. ‘I left my phone in the hotel, sorry.’

Sera exhaled so hard it rattled in his ear. ‘ _You didn_ _’t answer, you left us unread. What in the fuck happened?’_

From somewhere nearby, Dorian heard Lana ask ‘ _Did he at least get laid?_ _’_

‘I did _not_ get laid,’ he answered dryly. ‘And I’m fine.’

 _‘Fucking_ bullshit! _’_ Sera accused. _‘You didn’t even check your messages this morning!’_

‘I went out,’ Dorian said, doing everything he could to keep it casual. ‘The thing where you smash up cars and then onto the white water rafting centre. Very fun.’

_‘And where did you go last night?’_

‘For a walk.’

 _‘And_?’

Dorian gave up. ‘And yes, all right, I may have gotten jumped and roughed up a bit.’

He held the phone away from his ear when a cacophony of high-pitched furious concern erupted from it, half of it Irish.

_‘Why didn’t you tell us?’_

_‘Are you hurt badly?’_

_‘Shall we fly out?’_

_‘Did you wreck your other hand?’_

_‘Did Cullen save you?’_

_‘_ I forgot, no, _no_ , thankfully not and no again. It was his bodyguard, he followed me and kicked the other guy’s arse.’

 _‘Is it the blond one?’_ Lana asked, quality of the call now indicating speakerphone. _‘The shorter one with the piercing eyes?’_

God, had they been trawling over Cullen’s social media?

‘Yeah, I guess.’

_‘But you’re OK, right?’_

‘I’m…’ he paused, not wanting to actually say _fine_ , not after earlier. ‘I’m doing better,’ was what he went with, vaguely poking around inside himself to speak his _truth_ , as Josie had put it. ‘Yeah, I think I’m doing better.’

There was a full beat of silence from the girls, nothing said in the space and Dorian waited, waited to see if they would tease him or laugh, make a joke.

 _‘That’s great,’_ Sera said solemnly. _‘That’s really great, babe.’_

 _‘Yeah,’_ Lana added gently. _‘We’re so glad.’_

To mask his fragile relief that they _hadn_ _’t_ teased his tentative step towards something that might have been progress, Dorian laughed and sighed. ‘I miss you both.’

 _‘We miss you too,’_ they answered in perfect sync once more, followed by irritable tuts aimed at one another. _‘So, what’s next on the agenda for your travels?’_

‘I think we’re going to the Mediterranean next,’ he said, glancing to the left of his bed, where he lay relaxed and comfortable, alone in the suite. This was Cullen’s last night working in Prague, they left tomorrow. Dorian was going to miss the suite, had barely even gotten to _know_ it. He thought of all the amazing things they could have ordered from the room service menu he’d browsed earlier and though none of it came close to anything Cullen had made for him, it was still a loss not to give it a try.

_‘Ah, right for the… uh, right, yeah.’_

Dorian rolled his eyes and flicked mindlessly through the channels of the drop-down TV. ‘You don’t have to skirt away from the word _music_ ,’ he lied boldly. ‘I know what he does.’

 _‘Uh huh,’_ Sera said doubtfully. _‘Well that sounds like it’ll be ace.’_

 _‘Remember, if you need us, we’ll be there in a flash!’_ Lana offered in a tone that indicated she was smiling. He missed them both so much then that it plucked a chord in his chest.

 _‘Yeah, bet your new best mate would pay for us,’_ Sera chuckled.

Dorian realised that was very likely true. Cullen probably _would_ pay to fly them out if Dorian requested it.

‘OK, I do actually want to ask you both something,’ he said, sitting up, rubbing his eyes. ‘It’s _a secret_ though, you understand?’

_‘We solemnly swear.’_

_‘Oh my God, he’s fucked him.’_

Dorian graciously ignored that. ‘I think I might be getting some… uh, some feelings towards him, Cullen.’

 _‘Right_ ,’ Sera said and Lana yelped, perhaps having been nudged. _‘Right, OK.’_

‘Yeah,’ he said, unable to help the way heat rolled over his skin in waves just from saying it aloud. ‘Yeah, I’m not sure… what to do about it?’

_‘Whacha mean, babe?’_

‘What I mean is, I think I really like him.’ Oh great, now he was pretty much shaking all over. ‘I _really_ like him and I think he likes me too, but I… I fucked it up.’

 _‘How_?’

‘He told me last night how he felt, more or less, and I kind of shot him down.’

 _‘You shot down_ _Cullen_ _Ruth_ _—?_ _’_

 _‘_ Shut _it, Lan! Sorry, babe, carry on. What did he say, exactly? What did_ you _say?’_

 _‘_ He said he had something to tell me, that it was really difficult. He thought I maybe knew already because it was pretty obvious. I told him that I _did_ already know and that… I said I couldn’t do it. That it couldn’t happen.’

From the other end of the phone, there was whispering. Dorian couldn’t make it out, but there was clearly some sort of deliberation going on. He cleared his throat impatiently. ‘Emotional crisis here, girls.’

 _‘Yeah, sorry, sorry,’_ Lana said. ‘ _We_ _’re listening, carry on.’_

‘Well, that’s it. I shot him down but then, like… fuck, today he was still really um, tactile? I don’t know if he’s maybe naturally like that, but I don’t see him kissing anyone else’s neck or—’

‘ _HE KISSED YOUR NECK?_ _’_

‘Calm yourself, will you? It was a friendly thing.’

 _‘Dor_ ,’ Sera said sternly. _‘Neck kisses are not friendly. I mean, they’re not_ unfriendly _, but they sure as shit ain_ _’t the wholesome kinda smacker you’d lay on your Nan, are they?’_

_‘Yeah, we’re gonna need to hear more about the neck kiss, please.’_

Dorian huffed irritably. ‘It was… really brief and quick, just a peck really. Then he kissed my hands.’

 _‘Wow_.’

‘But it was probably like how you’d kiss a friend, I think. I don’t know.’

_‘On your fucking neck?’_

‘We were hugging, so maybe it was meant to be my shoulder. Or my cheek.’

‘ _Maybe he meant to kiss your neck because he_ _’s into you despite you shooting him down._ ’

Dorian frowned, considering. ‘No, that’s… that doesn’t feel right. Cullen wouldn’t press if he thought I really wasn’t interested.’

‘ _Yeah_ ,’ Sera agreed calmly. ‘ _So then maybe, just_ maybe _, when you had your conversation last night, it could have been that there was a small misunderstanding._ _’_

 _‘Fuckin’ small?’_ Lana scoffed and Dorian could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

‘You think I wasn’t clear?’

_‘I think you’re wonderful and amazing, but sometimes you’re not the most… um… level-headed about things like this.’_

Dorian looked down at the duvet cover, swallowing slightly. ‘Yeah.’

 _‘I don’t mean_ him _, y_ _’know. Before. I just mean maybe you wanna talk to Cullen again and this time, be very clear. Like, even if it sounds silly, sayin’ things out-loud that you both already know, y’know?’_

Dorian did not really know. ‘Mmm, OK.’

 _‘Dor_ ,’ Lana said. _‘What did it feel like when he kissed your neck?’_

‘Fuck off, Lana, I’m not telling you that!’

_‘It’s so we can accurately judge how into him you are!’_

_‘Yeah, that and a vibrator for later,’_ Sera snorted.

_‘Like you don’t wanna hear it too!’_

‘ _Anyway_!’ Dorian put in forcefully. ‘Look, if there was a… misunderstanding or whatever, does that mean I can… maybe go for it then?’

He heard them gasp. ‘ _Fuuuck, you_ _’re gonna go for it?’_

‘That’s what I’m asking.’

 _‘Shit, shit, shit, I’m so excited for you! Oh my God, please report back with_ ** _everything_** _. Dick size, pube colour and density, does he have that line of hair that trails down, how deep is his V, ball size and weight—oh my_ God _, does he bottom?_ _’_

_‘No,’ Sera said seriously while Dorian tried not to die. ‘Obviously not.’_

_‘Really? I don’t know, he’s the kind who might like to be pushed around, I feel.’_

_‘He doesn’t need to bottom for that.’_

‘OK, well this has been really helpful,’ Dorian sighed, deadpan in the extreme, but oh, now his mind was wandering into new territory. Into territory filled with land mines of desire, each one hidden beneath the surface of _caring_ for someone, of wanting to make someone else _happy_. He thought of that bitch Madeline, of how Cullen had wanted him there and he let himself feel the weight of that. Let himself embrace that maybe it wasn’t the _worst_ thing in the world to _want_ someone like that. ‘I’ll be sure to fuck him and fill out a three page report about the size of his dick.’

He vaguely heard Lana squealing. _‘I can’t believe you’re actually gonna have sex with him. This is the happiest I’ve ever felt for someone else!’_

‘To be clear before I hang up, you’re _both_ saying I should go for it, right?’

 _‘What we’re sayin’,_ ’ Sera said clearly and slowly. _‘Is follow your instincts.’_

_‘… down to his dick.’_

_‘And maybe just clear up the little misunderstanding first, yeah?’_

‘Right,’ Dorian said, nodding to himself. ‘I think I will.’

_‘Talk to him?’_

‘Yeah, yeah, of course, but I’m more leaning towards Lana’s way of thinking right now, if I’m being honest.’

Lana let out a shriek, followed by a peal of rapid fire, hyena-like laughter. _‘Oh my God, oh my God,_ yes _! Fuck him good, darlin_ _’, fuck him for_ all _of us!_ _’_

‘Well, obviously I’m _not_ just going to fuck him,’ Dorian countered hastily. ‘But I might… venture down a path that could lead that way, _maybe_.’

He heard Lana in the background singing and perhaps _dancing_ to a jaunty rhythm of, ‘ _Heee_ _’s gonna fuck him, heee’s gonna fuck him!’_

 _‘Now look what you did,’_ Sera sighed.

‘All right, sorry,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m going.’

‘Talk _to each other, yeah?_ _’_

‘I will.’

 _‘Make sure you don’t have any dick fluff before he sucks you off, dick fluff is the_ worst _!_ _’_ Lana sang happily as the call cut out.

*

It was definitely _weird_ that Dorian’s stomach was acclimating to eating later. It was especially odd that he found he didn’t really want to eat unless it was something Cullen had made for him.

So when Cullen arrived back that night around ten thirty and seemed positively exhausted, Dorian genuinely floundered for a moment before a pretty little idea popped into his head.

‘Thank God that’s the last one here,’ Cullen groaned, pulling his boots off. Dorian hovered in the doorway between their rooms, politely not watching while he undressed and changed.

‘Stressful?’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen yawned. ‘More like draining.’

‘Where’s the others?’

‘They’re changing downstairs.’ He padded back into Dorian’s view, had swapped out the glamorous shirt for a soft, plain tee. Sexy tight jeans for comfortable jogging bottoms and socks that went almost up to his knees, pulled over the legs of the joggers in the way mothers tended to do for toddlers. Dorian fought the urge to swallow because somehow, this relaxed getup was sexier than what he’d been wearing before.

‘Do you not want to shower?’

‘I’m too tired to shower.’ Cullen caught himself then and looked back at Dorian quickly. ‘Oh, but I’m still going to—’

‘No,’ Dorian said, pushing away from the door-frame. ‘I uh, I’m actually taking over.’

Cullen smiled slowly, mystified. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Yeah, I’m taking over tonight, with dinner,’ Dorian said, a low curl of excitement in his stomach. ‘And don’t worry, I’m not just going to get takeaway. I don’t want to break our streak.’

Cullen was staring now, standing there looking stupidly beautiful in white and grey, soft fabrics with sweat mussed hair and just the tiniest bit of faded eyeliner. He was staring at Dorian and Dorian felt a kind of physical _push_ behind it, the weight of things unsaid.

‘Our streak?’

‘Yeah. It’s my turn,’ Dorian said primly, unable to hide a little grin. ‘You guys relax, sit around the table, have some wine. I’ll be back in a bit.’

Cullen started forward. ‘You’ll be—where are you going?’

‘No, no,’ Dorian chuckled. ‘You stay here like a good boy.’

Oh, shit.

He’d said it airy and bright, as a fucking _joke_ obviously, but the moment the last two words left his mouth, all the air in the room contracted between them, making it seem like they weren’t whole yards apart. Cullen’s lips parted and his eyes darkened with a kind of rush induced _glaze,_ like something hitting his bloodstream.

Dorian knew right away he shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have thrown it out there like a bit of banter between mates because _mates_ didn’t cover each other in body glitter and get hard from it. Mates didn’t jerk off thinking about each other and _mates_ apparently didn’t kiss necks.

They just didn’t.

And so Dorian had no right tossing things like that out into the air with no expectation, not when it had Cullen caught like that, like it was a fucking trigger word that put him in a hypnotised state.

And yet…

‘Yes,’ he said, surveying the way Cullen was statue still, throat a little bit thick. ‘Just like that.’

Cullen swallowed and blinked hard. ‘Like this?’

And now Dorian was moving _back_ towards Cullen, despite his plans, despite all his attempts to leave and put distance between them.

‘Yeah, see? You’re staying, just like I told you.’ He walked slowly towards Cullen whose attention was like a spotlight, focused and narrow and only for Dorian, bright enough to have him blinking in the glare of it. When they were close enough to touch if one lifted a hand, Dorian said, rough and low. ‘You’re a good boy.’

Cullen’s eyes fluttered just a _tiny_ bit and he let slip something that could have been (was _definitely_ ) a moan. He wasn’t moving, he was _staying_ , and each breath was coming fast enough that it was almost like he was panting. Dorian felt dazed by the strength of the sway he held then. Felt positively drunk with power because Cullen was the most incredible person he’d ever met… and he’d _moaned_ when Dorian called him a good boy.

‘I am?’ Cullen forced out. 

It was fucking _madness_ when Dorian took a single step forward and lifted his hand carefully, avoiding touching any part of Cullen besides what he _wanted_ to touch. ‘You are. You’re _so_ good, Cullen. Just look at you.’

He brushed the back of his fingers over Cullen’s face; the kind of touch he knew was lemony light, created a burst of shooting zingy sensations because really, it was _too_ light, that touch. Teasing.

Cullen closed his eyes. ‘Say it again?’

‘You’re my good boy.’

Cullen groaned, biting his bottom lip hard.

It was going to happen. It was going to fucking _happen_ and Dorian wanted to care that it wasn’t how he’d maybe planned, wasn’t as slow as he would have liked, but fucking hell, how was anyone meant to resist _this?_

‘I uh,’ Cullen said, voice catching slightly and he opened his eyes, gaze finding Dorian’s immediately. They were too close now, Dorian still touching Cullen, still stroking the side of his face. ‘I want to tell you a secret.’

‘Tell me.’

Cullen’s hands went to the hem of his tee, pulling slowly, almost hesitantly and Dorian’s heart was fucking _pounding._ He watched as Cullen drew up the soft material, revealing hard muscle and well defined abs beneath. While that was almost enough for him to come untouched as it was, there was something _else_ he was showing Dorian.

As the shirt came off completely, Dorian put his hand over his mouth. It was that or he was going to make a deeply embarrassing noise.

Cullen was wearing body glitter.

It was a thin layer, spread in the centre of his chest. Purple and gold, an even mixture of the two, nothing like what Dorian had painted over him. A messy kind of circle spreading over his pectorals, over his nipples and ending where his ribs curved. It was obvious that he’d rubbed it there himself, had put it on without looking in a mirror but… but there were clear and present _swirls_ in certain places. Places where his touch had circled, had lingered.

There was a swipe to the left that went diagonally up his chest and towards the side of his neck, but it had been cleaned off in a line, hidden from view of public eyes. That didn’t mean Dorian couldn’t follow where his sticky, glittery hand had gone. Up his neck, into his hair.

_Push your fingers through my hair._

‘You’re wearing the body glitter,’ he heard himself say.

‘I’m wearing _your_ body glitter. I’ve… been wearing it every night since we got here, not always this much or this obvious but, yeah.’

Dorian was having a fucking out of body experience.

‘Why?’

‘I…’

Grey eyes met golden brown. ‘You can tell me.’

‘I wanted to take you with me,’ Cullen said in a pained kind of whisper, confessing something that was likely to have consequences for them both. ‘I wanted you with me, even when you weren’t here.’ A soft, swift breath pushed past Dorian’s lips, involuntary gasp born of Cullen’s _secret_.

They still weren’t touching, there was still a foot of space between them as Cullen stood there, shirtless and glittering, Dorian barely able to breathe, let alone process a clear thought.

‘You wanted me with you,’ Dorian echoed, his mouth suddenly very dry.

‘Yes.’

‘You put it on yourself.’

‘I did.’

‘Tell me how it felt.’

‘It… wasn’t the same.’

Fuck, fuck, _fucking_ fuck. ‘You did a good job, regardless.’

‘Not as good as you.’

Oh fucking _hell_ , what was happening? Dorian had been about to go and make dinner for everyone, he’d had a _plan_ and now all he wanted to do was tell Cullen to sit on his bed and kick off those tented joggers. Was it wrong that he kind of wanted Cullen to keep his knee high socks on, though?

He kept his focus on the glitter, not trusting himself to look anywhere else, practically vibrating with the effort of controlling himself.

‘Still,’ he said. ‘It’s beautiful. _You_ _’re_ beautiful, Cullen.’

Cullen was rigid, was like a fucking statue but Dorian didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched, the way his breathing stuttered and faltered. Dorian had never once possessed power like this, had never been conductor of the most beautiful creature on earth and it was dangerously addictive. A spiralling feeling that would crescendo, that would _explode._

Slowly, ignoring how it trembled, Dorian lifted his hand, giving Cullen plenty of time to back away, and placed it right in the centre of that chest, fingers splayed, palm meeting warm, sticky skin. Beneath, he felt the soft grit of the glitter and the absolute hammering rhythm of Cullen’s heartbeat.

And Cullen was just standing there, waiting. Trusting. Shallow breaths and thudding pulse, glittered up because he wanted to have a little piece of Dorian with him, had maybe even wanted Dorian’s _mark_.

‘Beautiful,’ Dorian said again, moving into his space. Moving so that they were pressing, they were flush, his hand caught between the two of them. ‘Tell me what you want, Cullen.’

‘Please.’

‘I need you to tell me.’

Cullen closed his eyes tight. ‘If I start, I’ll never stop.’

Oh _God_.

‘Maybe I don’t want you to stop, ever think about that?’

‘All the time.’

‘Tell me what you want.’

‘I want…Dorian, I want—’

The door swung open loudly and the sounds of other people, _people who weren_ _’t Cullen,_ invaded the world that had been steadily narrowing between them and Dorian wanted to commit fucking _murder_ , he really did.

He swore fluently under his breath, but he moved away quickly because they were coming their way, no doubt about it. They called out through the suite, cheery and annoyingly _happy_ about wrecking what had been the most intensely wonderful feeling of Dorian’s life.

He kept his back to Cullen, necessity more than anything else.

‘Yeah, coming!’ he heard Cullen call out, his voice cracking only a little bit at the end.

Dorian cursed himself, he cursed the whole fucking world.

‘Right,’ he said, forcibly bright as he moved almost blindly through the rooms towards the exit. ‘You guys stay here and I’ll be back soon!’

*

It took more than a few attempts of splashing cold water on his face in the downstairs bathrooms of the hotel before he had a good hold of himself, though unfortunately not in _that_ way.

Dorian shook it off, but he didn’t… he didn't get rid of it, that feeling. He didn’t work to suppress it, to deny it.

‘Just bad timing,’ he told himself, not rushing to fill the space carved by disappointment with shame. He didn’t _need_ to be ashamed. Cullen liked him, he knew it and Dorian was far from denying how much he liked Cullen. ‘Very, very bad timing.’

Face cool, blood hot, heart just a little bit too light, he headed for the kitchens with a plan in mind.

*

They were waiting at the table when he came up with four others, three of them behind him wheeling food trolleys into the suite.

‘What is this?’ Leliana asked, eyebrow cocked with interest.

Dorian extended his arms proudly. ‘Everything!’

Fenris grinned. ‘Three trolleys worth, I’d say so.’

Dorian and the others, wonderful chefs who had agreed to his mental scheme with great aplomb, began placing the silver hooded dishes onto the large table. There were twenty nine dishes in total and the table was simply covered in them. They were like gleaming silver boobs, a sight Sera would have cackled gleefully to see.

‘I know we’re leaving tomorrow and we didn’t get to have much in the way of their room service menu, so, these lovely people very kindly let me help them make a small version of every main dish on their menu!’

Dorian pulled off the silver domes one by one, revealing plate after plate of lovely, fresh food, but nothing huge in the way of portions.

‘You helped make this?’ Josie said, smiling at each of the dishes with interest.

‘Helped might be a strong word,’ Dorian chuckled, feeling Cullen’s eyes on him even as he busied himself with revealing each of the mini dinners. ‘But I did my best.’

‘Dorian, this is amazing.’

‘I just thought we could have a little bit of everything before we leave,’ Dorian said, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling distinctly shy all of a sudden. They were looking at him, four pairs of eyes plus those of the wonderful chefs. ‘So, um.’

Fenris nodded at one of the servers, the one who held the leather menu booklet. He paid by card and Dorian hoped he’d been generous with the tip.

‘Well, I’m positively famished,’ Josie said, helping herself to a few bits and pieces from the vegetarian dishes. ‘Thank you, Dorian.’

Dorian sighed happily and sank down into the chair beside Cullen, the blond at the top of the table, pouring himself some wine.

‘My pleasure.’

‘How much did you tip them?’ Leliana asked Fenris as the chefs and servers left the room.

‘Ten.’

Dorian looked up indignantly. ‘Ten pounds? Are you serious?’

Fenris bit his lips into his mouth, barely swallowing a smile. Leliana laughed, high and musical, while Josie piled her plate high, heedless of all but the food.

‘I think he meant ten thousand,’ Cullen whispered, patting Dorian’s hand and reaching over him for the shredded lamb shank.

Dorian’s cheeks flushed instantly. ‘Oh, right.’

Jesus.

‘This might be my favourite kind of dinner,’ Fenris said after a few minutes of quiet, blissful eating. ‘It’s like Yo Sushi, but with gourmet cuisine.’

‘I helped make those potatoes,’ Dorian said, pointing with his fork.

‘I can’t believe you got all this for us,’ Cullen said, pouring minted gravy over his meat before setting the jug down and sucking a spot of the warm, brown liquid from where he’d spilled it onto his thumb.

‘Yeah well, I wanted to help make something nice for you all.’

They held eye contact for longer than was generally advisable considering Cullen’s mouth was _doing things,_ lips gently sucking and Dorian even caught a tiny flash of tongue. Cullen’s smile was slow and sweet.

Fenris raised his wine glass. ‘To Dorian. Newest addition, scrappy fighter, _really_ loud snorer.’

Cullen choked down a laugh as he drank from his glass, barely preventing a spit-take.

‘Hey, I don’t snore!’

‘You snore,’ Josie informed him kindly, sagely. ‘We can hear it, even through walls.’

‘I can hear it downstairs,’ Fenris added, eyes shining with laughter. ‘Pass me an olive, please.’

It felt like a little test and Dorian was in a generous, weirdly playful mood, so when he nabbed one from the antipasto plate, he didn’t _pass_ it, so much as threw it, the way one might toss a basketball, though with far less force. Fenris had to lean up to catch it, but catch it in his mouth, like a trained seal, he did. Leliana laughed and Josie clapped.

They were fucking _weird,_ but Dorian was really starting to like them.

As the night went on, more and more wine was consumed alongside the mini smorgasbord of dinners and come 1am, the plates were cleared away on the single trolley left behind and the focus was well and truly on the wine.

Cullen didn’t drink that much, but Dorian definitely did and so did the others, sat around on the plush sofas, a few candles lit here and there. 

‘Last night in Prague!’ Leliana cheered, toasting clunkily with Josie and then Fenris. Cullen was sat on the floor in front of Dorian’s single, massive armchair, Dorian’s legs beside him. Dorian wasn’t sure when it had happened, things were a tiny bit fuzzy, truth be told, but Cullen was kind of playing with his ankle.

‘Last night in Prague, thank the Gods!’ Fenris cheered, tossing back his entire glass. Dorian couldn’t be sure, but he suspected Fenris had a pretty impressive tolerance for wine given that he seemed barely even tipsy.

‘I think I’ll miss it,’ Dorian said, trying to sound like a man sat upon a chair who _wasn_ _’t_ being sweetly, gently played with by the fingertips of a talented, beautiful blond. It was just his ankle, for God’s sake, but there was literally no way to deny that Cullen was… well, playing with him. Drawing delicate little swirls and circles around the bone of Dorian’s bare ankle, shoes and socks discarded when Dorian had changed into comfy nightwear.

‘Despite how a Czech citizen roughed you up?’ Leliana asked.

Dorian pretended to consider, but really, he was buying time for his throat to unclench because Cullen’s fingertips had drifted just a _little_ higher for a moment there. ‘Hmm, yeah, despite that.’

‘Well, I for one can’t wait to be on the _beach_!’ Josie sang. ‘Not to mention all the lovely shops in Sardinia!’

Dorian sipped more wine and started playing with Cullen’s hair. Soft, light curls at the base of the other man’s neck which were just _tantalisingly_ close to Dorian’s fingers, far too close to resist. A small, somewhat hysterical part of him that still sought to rationalise everything and provide a back track insisted that girls did things like this sometimes. They played with each other’s hair. They touched skin, they stroked each other’s backs. It tried, that part, it really fucking did and Dorian wanted to laugh at it because Christ, there was no going back now, but A for effort.

‘So, what _is_ the plan for the Med?’

‘Tomorrow we fly into Sardinia,’ Fenris explained as Josie laid her head in his lap, scrolling through TikToks on her phone. Dorian noticed that Fenris did _not_ play with her hair, though. ‘We’re there for one day and night. During the day, the girls will probably want to do some freestyle shopping.’ Josie and Lee nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll be checking security for the arena and then we’ll go to work that night. Next morning it’s a tiny short haul over to the island of Corsica where we’ll be spending the rest of our time.’

‘Is there work to be done there?’

‘No,’ Cullen sighed happily. ‘Not work as instructed by the stupid O2 anyway. I have one thing to do there, one night but it’s something I chose. So we’ll have four days to do pretty much whatever we want.’ He leaned back a little bit into Dorian’s hand, pushing fingers to tangle deeper into silky curls. ‘I can’t wait for you to meet Rosalie.’

‘I can’t wait to swim in the sea,’ Fenris said with a wistful edge. ‘What about you, Lee?’

‘Hmm,’ the redhead hummed, considering as she swirled her wine. ‘Maybe nothing. That might be nice.’

‘Ah yes,’ Josie chuckled doubtfully. ‘Some _nothing_ while you charter a flight to bring Alistair right to you.’

Dorian watched Fenris subtly roll his eyes, but the shorter man said nothing. Dorian was finding it very hard to concentrate with what Cullen’s fingers were doing to the apparently _very sensitive_ skin of his ankle. It was getting harder to ignore the fact that they were _playing with each other_.

‘Aren’t you—’ Dorian cleared his throat when his tongue got stuck to the roof of his mouth. ‘Aren’t you uncomfortable down there?’

‘I saw you roll your eyes,’ Leliana was saying to Fenris in the background of Dorian’s peripheral focus.

Cullen half looked back. ‘Oh, no, I’m OK.’

‘I didn’t _roll_ my eyes, Lee, I just don’t know why you bother with him so often. He’s… showy.’

‘Why don’t you come sit up here?’ Dorian offered, quiet and hopefully hidden beneath the conversation between Leliana and Fenris.

Cullen’s hand moved from Dorian’s ankle to turn almost fully, assessing the situation. With a darling half smile, he whispered, ‘I don’t think there’s room.’

Leliana and Fenris were now engaged in some sort of discussion about whoever the fuck this _Alistair_ was and Josie’s attention seemed to be all on her phone. Dorian wondered how drunk he really was. Cullen didn’t seem too drunk by comparison, simply relaxed. Fenris seemed entirely sober, save for having slipped into a bit more of an _accent;_ like a Regency era Gentleman who’d spent ten years in Italy.

It was an excellent indicator that Dorian might be _rather_ drunk when he said, ‘No, look. There’s lots of room.’ Shoving himself into the squishy velvet side, he patted the other half of the cushion. ‘Come on.’

Slowly, depositing his wine glass on the nearby table, Cullen did just that. He crawled into the chair, clumsier than usual and squeezed himself in beside Dorian.

‘Hello,’ he said, complete with adorable dorky smile.

Dorian grinned, feeling like he was ten. ‘Hello, you.’

‘This is a tight squeeze,’ Cullen laughed, wriggling to make room but there was none to be had.

And _because_ Dorian was most definitely drunk, he said, in a quiet voice, ‘Let me sit on your lap then.’

Cullen’s silence was not noticeable to the others, thank fuck. Josie was watching loud, annoying _TikToks_ meanwhile Fenris and Leliana were having what might have resembled a _private_ argument, had there not been others around them. Dorian couldn’t focus on what they were saying, beyond recognising that it was a little bit heated.

‘Uh, all right,’ Cullen said in a threadbare voice, wrapping his arm slowly around Dorian’s waist and pulling very carefully. Dorian pushed himself away from the edge of the armchair, slid onto Cullen’s lap with just a hint of awkwardness. ‘Is that… all right?’

Buried beneath all the buzzing, relaxing alcohol, a part of Dorian was positively face palming, resigned.

Dorian settled back against his new chair, warm and strong, with arms around his waist.

‘Yeah, that’s all right,’ he said, leaning back fully and closing his eyes. Cullen’s chin was resting nicely on his shoulder, cheek against Dorian’s neck which was fairly exposed as he lay with his head back, the room spinning just enough to feel like he was dancing. He tried to take stock of the moment, tried to collect his thoughts in the hope of not wrecking his life come tomorrow, but it was _difficult_ when it didn’t even feel like there would _be_ a tomorrow.

‘Are you comfortable?’ Cullen asked, his breath tickling Dorian’s neck. Dorian wasn’t the best judge of these things, but he thought maybe Cullen sounded nervous, voice just a touch ragged.

‘Very,’ he said honestly. ‘You’re not hard like I thought you’d be.’

It took a good five seconds to realise what he’d said.

‘I—no, no, that’s _not_ what I meant, I just—because you’re all muscles, aren’t you? I wasn’t expecting you to make a good chair, to feel so nice underneath—no, I. Oh, you know what I meant,’ he whined, turning enough to look down at Cullen and now he was sat sideways on the taller man. Cullen was smiling adoringly, he looked so fucking _young_ that Dorian wanted to touch him, touch his skin and make sure it was really _his_ Cullen, this beautiful creature under him.

‘Are you?’ he asked, blinking slowly, tracing fingertips down Cullen’s forehead, all the way along the bridge of his nose and then, as delicately as one was capable when this drunk, over the cupids bow of his lips. Faded scar sweeping out to the left and they were so _soft,_ so warm and perfect.

‘Am I what?’

‘My Cullen,’ Dorian clarified wisely. ‘You’re _my_ one, aren’t you? Look so different, all young and relaxed this way.’

It was impossible to miss the way Cullen swallowed. ‘I’m yours, yes.’

That time, there was a definite drop in background noise. Cullen noticed it before Dorian did, gaze breaking from the younger man’s and gaining back some measure of normality.

Fenris put his wine glass on the table. ‘It’s getting late.’

‘We should go,’ Leliana said. ‘Josie, are you listening? Get off that bloody—'

‘Oh, don’t leave!’ Dorian said, spinning around so suddenly that he nearly fell off of Cullen. Strong arms caught him just in time, held him suspended from cruel gravity. ‘Thank you.’

Cullen got up off of the chair and lifted Dorian right along with him. It was all a bit _much_ and Dorian just about resisted the urge to giggle and swoon.

‘We should go,’ Josie said, yawning.

‘No, no,’ Dorian wheedled excitedly, forgetting that there was a good reason to want to be _alone_ with Cullen, instead not wanting the lovely night to end. ‘Stay here with us, in the suite!’

Leliana peered into the bedrooms. ‘I suppose we could.’

‘That big bed _does_ look nice,’ Josie agreed.

‘But hold on a moment,’ Fenris drawled slowly, almost sarcastically. ‘There are only two beds which means we’ll have to _share_.’

Josie giggled, taking a selfie with Lee, who rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not sleeping with Dorian, he snores.’

It was hard to gauge because parts of the room were still happily dancing to a song that was stuck in Dorian’s head, but he was sure he saw Leliana looking between him and Cullen with a frown.

‘I’ll sleep on the sofas,’ Cullen offered easily.

Dorian did not like that at all. _‘No_!’ he wailed in weak protest, clinging to Cullen with both arms. ‘You have to stay, you’re my chair and now you can be my bed!’

Somewhere, in some dry recess of his mind that was still intact, he knew he would regret saying that tomorrow.

‘Oh my,’ Josie chuckled. ‘Yes, let’s all stay together. That will be a nice way to see the hotel out, after all.’

‘I’ll take the sofa,’ Fenris sighed, long suffering and put upon. ‘Bloody hell, some people are so _amorous_ when drunk.’

Lee said, ‘I’m not.’

‘Yes,’ he said, still perhaps a little prickly about their conversations previously. ‘I’m aware.’

‘You girls can take my bed,’ Cullen offered valiantly and Dorian smiled because somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but he’d managed to get Cullen into his bed.

Perfect plan.

‘C’mon,’ he said, pulling Cullen into the bedroom on the left. ‘Come cuddle me. Night everyone!’

Dorian didn’t look back, didn’t wait to hear the responding night-time farewells. He led and Cullen followed into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

‘Oh, look!’ he said, stumbling slightly when he came to an abrupt stop. The bedroom was dark and quiet but from outside, a perfect crescent moon was shining. ‘So pretty! Cullen, come see it.’

Dorian leaned on the windowsill, staring out at the moonlit scene before them. He opened one of the windows just enough to feel a cool burst of chilly air hit his skin, soothing his lungs and causing his eyes to flutter.

From behind, Cullen slid his hands loosely around Dorian’s waist and moved into him.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said softly.

Dorian placed his hands over Cullen’s and breathed deeply.

‘Thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘Everything. _Everything_ , Cullen.’

Dorian felt him drop a light, brief kiss to Dorian’s shoulder. ‘You’re very welcome.’

Neck kisses, shoulder kisses, what was next?

‘You’ll stay with me?’ Dorian asked, turning enough to look at Cullen after he’d had his fill of the lovely moon. ‘All night?’

Cullen stroked Dorian’s hair back from his forehead, eyes roaming fondly. ‘Of course, if that’s what you want.’

Dorian leaned into the touch. ‘Yes, I want you to stay.’

‘Then I’ll stay.’

‘I should have kissed you earlier.’

Whoops.

_Backtrack, backtrack you fucking moron!_

‘Hmm,’ he said, worrying his bottom lip. ‘Not actually any way _to_ backtrack from there. Shit.’

Cullen was still stroking his hair. ‘It’s all good.’

‘Is it, though? Can anything ever, really be _all good_?’

‘You are.’

Dorian knew where this was leading. He knew where compliments in a dark room, this late in this state of drunkenness generally led to. There was a part of him that felt almost _obligated_. Cullen had put in the work, no denying that. He was gorgeous and he was so fucking _lovely_ , even more so than the moon. It was fine, it was all fine, Dorian just needed to…

But wait.

No, he was trying not to do _fine_ anymore. Sure, it would be _fine_ to kiss Cullen and let things go from there. To give in and go with the flow as he’d done many times before in his life, fuck the consequences.

_You’re not fine._

The silence had stretched on for a while now and although Cullen seemed in no rush to fill it, Dorian knew he must have been waiting, no matter how patiently.

‘Cullen, I think—I mean, I _want_ to, obviously, but—’

‘Dorian,’ Cullen interrupted with a variant of kind firmness or maybe it was firm kindness. ‘I’d die before I took advantage of you, OK? Nothing’s going to happen.’

Dorian’s mouth was worryingly uninhibited by his poor, inebriated mind. ‘You don’t want me?’

‘You’re really drunk,’ Cullen said, smiling so sweetly that Dorian wanted to cry because who, _who_ the fuck was this sweet, truly?

‘Is that a no?’

Cullen was watching him with an intensity that bordered on fascination. Dorian felt almost stripped beneath it. Cullen tipped Dorian’s chin just a small fraction and Dorian’s heart fucking _lurched_ , suddenly wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. He didn’t care that he was drunk, didn’t _care_ about anything like that, he just wanted—

Cullen’s lips met with his hairline, kiss pressed to his forehead. It lingered that time, so different from the way the other touches had been. Dorian couldn’t move, could not think of a single thing to say or do. Cullen kissed him like he was precious, like he was delicate and darling and though it was absent of _desire_ , lacking in the deepest regions of what Dorian wanted in the moment, there was a strength to it born of another emotion, far too dangerous to name.

Neck, shoulder, forehead. Fuck.

‘It’s a _not tonight,_ ’ Cullen whispered when he drew away.

Dorian swallowed over the lump that had formed painfully in his throat, trying to recall when he’d been kissed that way. _Never_ , his brain supplied helpfully.

 _‘_ Right,’ he managed to say, forcing words past the lump, trying to regain control over what in the holy fuck was happening beneath his ribs. ‘Right, OK.’

When Cullen led him into bed, covers held open for Dorian to slip inside, he followed. He let Cullen place the cool sheets over him, settle him into the soft, deep pillows and then watched as Cullen did the same, the pair facing one another. There was distance between them, no cuddling that Dorian had whined for but this was nicer in some ways. Dorian could watch him as he fell asleep.

‘Night,’ he mumbled, lips getting a tad useless as he began to drift.

‘Good night, Dorian,’ was the last thing he heard before a dreamless sleep came for him.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Waking up together... and then leaving Prague behind for sunshine and beaches.


	14. Mon Amour, Sweet Child of Mine You're Divine (Didn't Anyone Ever Tell You It's OK To Shine?)

_Four Years Ago_

_‘Thanks, that was great.’_

_‘Why does it sound like a dismissal?’_

_Dorian laughed and rolled out of bed. He_ _’d been awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Harry to wake up._

_‘Dismissal is such a cruel word.’_

_Harry reached for his phone, checking it while he woke up._ _‘But true, I guess.’_

_Dorian cleared his throat and pulled on a vest top, actively hoping the man would just leave. He had so many things to be getting on with, not least going shopping and preparing for the party he was throwing that night. It had been a stupid decision, letting the man stay over_ again _._

_‘You want a coffee or tea?’ he offered lightly._

_‘Jesus, I’m getting the whole scene, huh?’_

_Sadly, the fact that he was an incredible fuck did nothing to abate how annoyingly dramatic the guy could be. It wasn_ _’t that Dorian minded drama - was often the centre of it himself - it was more that he was breaking his own No Repeats rule._

_‘Look,’ Dorian said gently. ‘I told you before.’_

_Hardiss sat up, taking up two thirds of the bed when he did. Dorian sat perched on the side, not looking at him._

_‘I remember.’_

_‘We had a great time,’ Dorian said, keeping his voice normal. ‘You’re fantastic in bed. I just don’t—’_

_‘You don’t do repeats, yeah. I might be big and dumb, but I can count, Dorian. This is the fourth time.’_

_‘And the last.’_

_‘Why?’_

_Rolling his eyes, Dorian got up and walked around the bed, heading for the door._ _‘I don’t owe you an explanation, OK? We had fun, that’s the end.’_

_He was almost at the door when a thick, strong hand grabbed his wrist and pulled. He didn_ _’t stumble, years of experience in being suddenly grabbed by drunken wankers working in his favour. He let himself be pulled, but his instincts tightened, his hackles flared._

_‘Hey.’_

_‘No, come on,’ Harry said softly, frowning intently. ‘I just want to know. I like you, I told you that.’_

_He pulled Dorian down on the bed with him, holding his wrist there to make sure he didn't go._ _‘Everyone likes me,’ Dorian said tonelessly._

_Harry chuckled._ _‘OK, well I really like you.’_

_Dorian shrugged._ _‘Good for you.’_

_Something like sadness filtered into the bigger man_ _’s expression and he slowly released Dorian’s wrist._

_‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he said hoarsely._

_Dorian didn_ _’t look down at his wrist. ‘You didn’t, I just have things to be getting on with.’_

_‘Yeah, OK.’_

_Dorian was about to get up and leave, call his friends in a loud tone of voice but_ _… well now Harry just looked pathetic. All sad and small._

_‘It’s not you,’ Dorian said, just a little bit irritably. ‘I just want to focus on my friends and my life right now, no relationships.’_

_Harry nodded and when he looked up, Dorian was wholeheartedly relieved to see that most of the Little Boy Lost ‘tude had abated._

_‘I’m the same, actually.’_

_‘Well,’ Dorian said patting his thigh. ‘There you go. Coffee?’_

_‘You don’t drink coffee,’ Harry called out as Dorian left the bedroom._

_‘You do.’_

_Dorian busied himself in the kitchen of his loft and Bull followed him out eventually._

_‘Here.’_

_He placed the coffee on the countertop and went about making his own tea with a clean spoon, didn_ _’t want nasty coffee taste anywhere near his precious tea._

_‘Thanks. I didn’t mean to be a dick back in there.’_

_Dorian shrugged again._ _‘’S’OK.’_

_‘It’s not. I shouldn’t have done it. I respect your rules.’_

_‘Thanks.’_

_‘You’re one hell of a guy.’_

_Dorian crooked a warning eyebrow, but he was smiling a bit._

_‘I love your place.’_

_‘Yeah, me too.’_

_‘I don’t have a place of my own.’_

_‘Not even rented?’_

_‘Nah, we’re always moving, playing gigs all over. Sometimes Europe. Even America now and then.’_

_‘That’s a big deal.’_

_‘We mostly open for the_ big deals _,' Harry laughed. ‘Cost of travelling actually outweighs anything we make, so it’s a tight, crazy kind of life.’ He looked down at his coffee. ‘This is the longest I’ve been in one place for a while actually.’_

_‘Where are you staying?’_

_‘Crashing on the tour bus, my friend Dally owns a big one. It has beds and shit, but they’re…’ Harry smiled ruefully. ‘They’re not made for repeats.’_

_Dorian grinned at that, stirring his tea._

_‘So, you tour then?’_

_‘Kinda, yeah. It’s how it is. You show up and you play, even if they didn’t really want you to.’_

_Thinking of the first time Dorian had ever seen Harry's band,_ Fully Charged _, play at a dingy little club called Tap 'N Tin’s, he nodded thoughtfully._

_‘You’re making it happen,’ he said. ‘One way or another.’_

_‘Yeah, pretty much. This is great coffee, thanks.’_

_‘Poundland’s finest.’_

_Harry smirked over the rim of his cup._ _‘I’m leaving tomorrow anyway, so you don’t need to worry about me stalking you or whatever.’_

_‘I wasn’t worried.’_

_‘No, you weren’t. You’re a cool guy, actually. I’ve acted like a prick a few times now and you’ve always been… really cool about it.’ Harry sighed. ‘We could use someone like you on the road. People we got now are good and all, they work hard, but they don’t have that_ spark. _The kind of spirit that you do._

__

_‘Spirit?’_

__

_‘Yeah, the kind that thrives on disarray rather than clams up around it. Touring can be rough, y’know, but it’s also fucking incredible. We see so much of the world, always a new place, new people.’ He laughed. ‘New disasters. It’s chaos. Some people don’t like chaos, even if they can function in it.’_

__

_‘You think I like chaos?’_

__

_‘I think you_ are _chaos.'_

__

_‘Oh, that’s a shit line, wow,’ Dorian chuckled, shaking his head._

__

_Harry grinned, unrepentant._ _‘I can’t help it, you bring out all the worst in me. Anyway, thanks again for the coffee. I’ll let you crack on with your life.’ He set down the still half full cup and stretched. Dorian watched him; huge arms, thick muscles, tattoos of complex, tribal designs. The cut of his jaw, the dark alluring quality of his eyes._

__

_There was a_ reason _he'd fucked him four times despite his No Repeats rule, after all._

__

_‘You uh, you don’t have to go yet,’ Dorian said, tapping his fingers along the side of his cup._

__

_Harry took his jacket off the wall and shrugged into it._

__

_‘Nah, I don’t wanna be that guy. We’re playing tonight, last time before we drive to France for_ Hellfest _._ _Three weeks of madness and then a gig with our loudest song. Anyway, have a nice party tonight.’_

__

_Dorian couldn’t think of anything to say._

__

_At_ _the door, Harry looked back and winked._

__

_‘See you around, kid.’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

It had been a long time since Dorian had woke up plastered to another man. Longer still since he’d slept more than six hours straight in the arms of _anyone_. His ex had always been touring, always been travelling. Coaches and buses, awful to sleep on. Rickety fold-out beds and stale recycled air. Dorian hadn’t slept well in years, even on the rare nights when his _then_ -boyfriend had deigned to stay with him after sex.

__

So when he awoke with his face half smushed into Cullen’s chest, the smell of his skin beneath a thin layer of worn cotton, he was understandably confused. Cullen was ridiculously warm, verging on _hot_ and Dorian could tell from his breathing that he was still asleep. He didn’t move, didn’t dare really. His mind was a foggy, aching mess, the kind of hangover only brought about from _wine_.

__

Dorian began to catalogue what he _did_ know. Prague. Cullen. Nice hotel. Dinner, _many_ dinners. Wine, way too much wine.

__

But before that…

__

_You're my good boy._

__

‘Oh, fuck.’

__

Cullen stirred slowly, luxuriant and cat-like. Dorian briefly panicked, wondered if he should try and slip away and hide under the bed or something before Cullen realised the position they were in.

__

Dorian was completely draped over him, Cullen’s arms curled possessively, the pair of them pressed together in a way that left fucking _zero_ to the imagination. Dorian’s dick was pressed against Cullen’s thigh, insistent and hopeful. They were _cuddling_.

__

Fucking cuddling.

__

And it was wonderful.

__

‘Mmm,’ Cullen rumbled, arms tightening around Dorian just a fraction as he pressed a light kiss into his hair. ‘Morning.’

__

The contact and the simple knowledge of the fact that _Cullen had kissed his hair_ sent a jolt of unstoppable heat and internal friction tumbling downward, resonating like a fucking _gong_ in his lower abdomen. Oh God, oh _fuck_ , what had happened?

__

_What had happened?_

__

Dorian rolled off of Cullen, pretending to be sleepy even though his heart was racing. How was this the _second_ time he’d woken up tangled with Cullen… and zero fucking memory of _how_ he came to be that way? Third time, if one counted falling asleep on the sofa together back in London.

__

‘Morning,’ he replied, voice dry.

__

‘You want tea?’ Cullen offered, yawning. The curtains were open, letting in far too much early morning sunshine for Dorian’s liking. The light was a javelin to the back of his skull.

__

‘Uh, tea would be lovely,’ Dorian said, King of the Nonchalant. 'Thanks.’

__

Cullen was about to slip out of bed, but Dorian’s anxiety was cresting and he couldn’t wait another second.

__

‘No, wait, sorry,’ he said, grabbing Cullen’s wrist gently. ‘Please don’t be mad, but did we uh… last night, we didn’t do anything, right?’

__

Cullen watched him carefully, gaze deceptively shallow. Protective, almost. He knew that Cullen was telling him the truth when he said, ‘No, of course not,’ but he also felt that Cullen was searching him, seeking out something. Dorian wished he wasn't so fucking hungover, wished he was sharp and fresh enough to _know_ instinctively what it was Cullen sought.

__

‘ _Of course not_ , because…?’

__

‘Because you were drunk,’ Cullen prompted gently, brow creased with mild concern. ‘You were very drunk.’

__

‘Right. Yeah.’

__

Cullen glanced back at the bed, to the rumpled pillows and the place where they’d been laying together. ‘I don’t know when we ended up cuddling, I’m sorry,’ he said, looking back, worried. ‘I didn’t mean to—’

__

‘Please don’t apologise for giving me the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years,’ Dorian laughed, only _somewhat_ self-deprecating. ‘It’s fine, it’s… fine.’

__

_Say we're friends, say we’re friends, make it a friend thing!_ _Safety. Backtrack. Retreat, for the love of God, retreat!_

__

Cullen’s assessment reached completion. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

__

‘I remember some things,’ Dorian mumbled hesitantly. ‘It’s just a bit jumbled.’

__

‘That’s OK,’ Cullen said and damn, but he sounded like he meant it. No disappointment, no cold anger, no resentment because Dorian was the biggest fucking tease of all time. ‘I’ll make you a tea and remind you of anything you might want to remember.’

__

Dorian watched him go, t-shirt and boxers, bare legs with gorgeous defined calves and _socks._ He was wearing adorable, daringly high socks, sat just under the ridge of his knee.

__

Something in Dorian’s memory stirred then, the socks jogging a piece of last night, an especially _shiny_ piece.

__

Though he wanted to call out and ask Cullen whether or not he’d been wearing body glitter last night, he also didn’t want to wake the others in the next room.

__

He heard the dulcet sounds of the kettle, soft clanging of china and the spoon as it stirred. He checked his phone, mercifully on charge by the bed. A few messages and pictures from the girls, but nothing important. Only with a touch of sullen envy did he wonder what in the fuck was happening with _Cullen's_ phone. How many notifications the blond had, how many people reaching out to him he probably ignored on a daily basis.

__

Cullen returned with two teas.

__

‘Where’s your phone?’

__

‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Cullen answered in an offhand manner, handing him a tea. ‘Lee or Josie look after it sometimes.’ He sat beside Dorian, giving him more space than before, eyeing the phone on the bed. ‘Your friends OK?’

__

‘Hmm? Oh, yeah. They’re fine. Still mental.’

__

Cullen smiled and blew over the surface of his tea. ‘We can fly them out to Corsica if you want, if you miss them.’

__

Dorian chuckled to himself, proving Sera quite right about her speculations yesterday.

__

‘I think they’re OK for now.’ With a quiet, heavy sigh, Dorian rubbed his eyes. ‘Did I dream it, or were you wearing my body glitter last night?’

__

Cullen flushed delicately, but he didn’t shy away from the answer. ‘You did _not_ dream that.’

__

‘Wow, right. Wow.’ He then took a deep breath and said, ‘So, we _didn't_ sleep together?’

__

‘No. Well, we slept in the same bed.’

__

Dorian’s tea was fucking amazing as always but he could barely taste it, only stalling for time with each sip.

__

‘Not really the same, I suppose.’

__

Cullen shrugged. ‘We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. We don’t have to talk about _anything._ Well, I mean, it would be nice but…’ he smiled nervously and Dorian felt impossibly moved by the deeper shade of a fresh blush spreading through the other man’s skin, by the way he ducked his head and bit his lip for a second.

__

‘My stupidity becoming contagious, is it?’

__

‘You’re not stupid,’ Cullen said automatically, no room for argument. ‘And what I _meant_ to say, but maybe it’s coming across wrong, is that I have no expectation for anything. I don’t want there to be anything resembling _obligation_ anywhere near this, if there is a _this_.’

__

Dorian kept his eyes on his tea, heart doing illegal things, given that it was so early. _This_. Cullen had said _this_.

__

He was fucking talking about it.

__

Cullen cleared his throat. ‘There’s better ways of saying this, I suppose, but in case it _wasn't_ clear before, I really like you.’

__

Blinking slowly, Dorian looked around for a brief moment. They were literally in bed together. Dorian had woken up _plastered_ to him. They were having tea, _in bed,_ together and Cullen had already told him this. It wasn’t new.

__

So why did it feel new?

__

Maybe because Dorian had let him actually speak this time.

__

He wondered, quite abstractly, when the panic soaked anxiety would kick in. Where was his knee-jerk reaction to deny himself any and all chance of ever being happy beyond the small scope that he was just about capable of maintaining?

__

‘Huh,’ he said, raising his eyebrows and calmly sipping his tea.

__

‘Um, Dorian?’

__

Oh, right. Cullen had just said he liked him _again_.

__

It felt suspiciously like a dream. Cullen was patiently waiting for a reply without a trace of expectation, yet… there was something in his eyes, in the lines of him. He was nervous, the kind usually born of hope, but he worked to hide it. Fuck, he was just so _lovely_. Kind and caring, sweet and thoughtful.

__

Dorian wanted to send a selfie to his younger self, who had been rather predictably into the _bad boys._ A _s_ elfie of him with Cullen, big smiles, pointing at Cullen as if to say, _this, you idiot, this is what you should have been looking for._

__

‘Right, sorry. Say it again?’

__

Cullen smiled for a second, a brief little thing in place of what might have been laughter. ‘I’m saying I like you. I’m pretty sure you knew that too. Sorry if this is a bit… um, anticlimactic?’

__

‘Oh yeah,’ Dorian said seriously. ‘Sat in bed with you in the best hotel I’ve ever been to, having the time of my life and the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen reiterates that he likes me. Really dull, Rutherford. Better work on that.’

__

Cullen definitely laughed that time, but he also covered his eyes, clearly a little embarrassed. ‘I just, ugh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make it really clear. Josie said something to me yesterday, how sometimes people can think they’re talking about the same thing and really they’re having two separate conversations—well, I just wanted it to be clear. I like you, Dorian.’

__

No, really. Where was the _fear_? Where was the horrible, vibrating sensation in the back of his skull, the feeling that had driven him to close himself off like the other night?

__

Dorian sipped more tea, lips on the warm china. ‘Hmm, I think you could still be clearer.’

__

‘Oh, really?

__

‘Yup. I require clarification.’

__

The smile was dancing in Cullen’s eyes when he shuffled back a little more so that he was almost completely opposite Dorian now, covers around Dorian’s waist and, thankfully, piled in his lap.

__

‘I _really_ like you.’

__

‘I’m still just not clear on the word _like_ ,’ Dorian went on, mock-frowning, shaking his head, enjoying teasing him far too much. ‘There’s a world of interpretation between like-you-as-a-friend and _like-you_ -like-you. Hmm, now the word _like_ is losing all meaning, you know when you say a word too often? Like. Huh, _like_. It’s a weird word, when you—’

__

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

__

Oh.

__

Fucking.

__

God.

__

Dorian’s smile froze and faltered as his eyes widened, caught in the _blindside_ of a sentence he would never, ever get out of his head.

__

_‘What_?’

__

And now Cullen was plainly terrified.

__

Gripping his tea, rigid with the kind of discomfort Dorian knew all too well. He could tell that Cullen wanted to look down, look away and he could also tell that what he’d just said, it had been blurted out. Which only helped make it more _real_ , more true.

__

Jesus fucking Christ.

__

Dorian just felt suspended, literally like he was above his body, floating above the scene. It was a _pretty_ scene. Shirtless men in bed, tea and overwrought silence, the sun rising and a cool morning breeze in the air.

__

Pretty, but fucking _mad_.

__

Cullen took a deep breath, steeling himself. ‘I’m… falling in love with you,’ he said again, the words _I think_ absent that time, confirmation of a sentiment Dorian had not even dared think about.

__

Dorian didn’t mean to be silent, he didn’t _mean_ to sit there with parted lips, stunned and astonished, but that was the state of things and in that silence, Cullen obviously felt that he needed to keep talking. He closed his eyes, shook his head once and then said, in a soft, pained little whisper. ‘I _am_ in love with you.’

__

It was like a sledgehammer, right to the core of his being. A massive impact of the softest, sweetest sensation, rippling all the way through him.

__

‘Um,’ Dorian managed eloquently. ‘I. Um.’

__

‘I don’t expect you to say anything back,’ Cullen went on, voice trembling. ‘But I hate hiding things from people I care about and this has… been inside me for a while. Well, pretty much since I met you. I don’t like things being unsaid, so this is me, being honest but not expecting anything in return.’ He gave himself a moment, looking up and nodding like he was _coaching_ himself and maybe he was. Dorian wondered what that internal diatribe might sound like. He already knew what his own would be, had it been _him_ who said that.

__

‘I’m sorry,’ Dorian said lightly, belying the confusion and shock. ‘I’m still… ah. _What_?’

__

Cullen laughed once, a shaky little thing, riddled with nerves.

__

‘Do you want me to say it again?’

__

There was _zero_ hesitation when Dorian put breath behind a solid, ‘Yes.’

__

Cullen lifted his gaze from the tea. ‘I’m in love with you.’

__

It hit just as hard as before, only now Dorian was ready for it. God, it was like a roller-coaster drop. Like he’d left his stomach miles back, plummeting down, gliding and flying, arms in the air.

__

‘Just… one more time.’

__

Cullen swallowed. ‘I’m in love with you, Dorian.’

__

‘Right,’ he heard himself say, slightly dizzy. ‘That’s _really_ clear.’

__

‘Yeah,’ Cullen said. ‘And look, I just want to reiterate that if that’s not what you want, then that’s fine. This feeling it—it doesn’t _demand_ anything of you, if that makes sense? It just _is_. I love you, regardless.’

__

Dorian looked away, attempting to get a hold of himself.

__

‘You love me regardless,’ he said, shaking his head as if to clear the fog that seemed intent on settling over his rational thought.

__

‘Yes.’

__

‘I… Cullen, we haven’t even kissed.’

__

Quietly self-conscious, Cullen uttered, ‘I don’t need to kiss you to know that I love you. That I’m _in_ love with you.’

__

Dorian stared, unable to quite catch his breath.

__

‘I don’t know what to say.’

__

‘You don’t have to say anything, do anything. I just needed you to know. I’m sorry, I’m aware that it’s a big thing and it… maybe it’s not what you wanted to hear. I probably could have chosen a better time, better place. If you want to be friends, then we’re friends. There isn’t a single part of me that would resent you.’

__

‘Because you love me.’

__

‘Yes, I do love you, very much.’

__

Dorian tried to understand that. The idea that Cullen wouldn’t resent him if his feelings weren’t reciprocated… _because_ he loved him. The implication that he wouldn’t hurt him, because he loved him. Love for Dorian precluding the possibility of in any way injuring him or resenting him. It was weirdly foreign and it took a few seconds to truly sink in.

__

And yeah, he could have chosen a better place. Could have set a stage, a scene, the way his ex might have done. Audience, music, spotlight. One knee, flashy ring, cameras everywhere. A staged thing, a showy set up designed to trick and sway, to tell a story.

__

But Cullen had no narrative, no motive. It was honesty, laid bare.

__

Dorian dared to believe him. Let himself feel it. Let the pieces fall into place way beyond _‘like’_ , because Cullen… he loved him. He looked at Dorian like he was the reason the sun rose. He cared for him, he sought him out. Worked to make him smile, to see him happy. He trusted him, he talked to him. Listened and learnt.

__

‘You love me,’ Dorian said again, trying it out carefully.

__

‘I love you.’

__

It was so crazy that Dorian half wanted to laugh.

__

‘It’s possible that this is all happening in the wrong order.’

__

Cullen laughed, less nervous that time. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’

__

‘No, don’t be sorry,’ Dorian said, unable to look away from him. ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s just… I’m not sure what to do, where to go from here and I _know_ you’re going to say I don’t have to do anything.’ He took Cullen’s hand in his own, the blond’s palm warm from holding the tea. Their fingers interlaced, Cullen’s thumb sweeping in little circles over the back of Dorian’s hand. ‘But I _want_ to do something,’ he added. ‘I just don’t know _what._ '

__

‘Would you like it if I took you out?’

__

‘But you’ve already taken me out,’ Dorian said slowly, feeling just a little bit _dim_ all of a sudden. ‘I feel kind of like… we’ve already been dating for a while.’

__

‘Um, well,’ Cullen said, softly, sounding very young. ‘That’s why I wanted to be clear and perhaps reiterate a few things. Before, that was me kind of trying to uh, to _woo_ you, I suppose for lack of a better word.’

__

‘Woo?’

__

Cullen winced. ‘I know.’

__

‘Woo is just about the worst word there is.’

__

‘What about court? I was trying to _court_ you.’

__

‘An improvement on woo,’ Dorian said and then shook himself. ‘No, look - sorry, I keep thinking I’m dreaming. I knew you liked me,’ he said seriously, looking down at their hands. ‘I knew it before the other night, like I said. You didn’t hide it or anything, but I didn’t really… realise we were dating.’

__

‘No, no,’ Cullen assured him quickly. ‘Not dating. I wouldn’t presume to… no. It really was just me wanting to,’ he swallowed slightly. ‘To make you happy.’

__

‘By courting me?’

__

‘A little bit that, yeah, but mostly just wanting to do nice things for you. To make you smile, make you feel safe and relaxed. I love it when you smile, when you’re happy. It’s like a real thing inside my chest, that feeling. I’m a tiny bit addicted to it, I think,’ he confessed.

__

_Addicted to making you happy._

__

He fell silent. Dorian tried his best to process all the thoughts swimming and clashing, all the emotions and echoes of Cullen’s words that were inside him then.

__

‘Can I think about it?’ Dorian asked and then immediately regretted it. ‘I don’t mean like that. It’s just a lot and I don’t want to rush into anything.’

__

Cullen’s self-conscious smile damn near broke Dorian’s heart. ‘Like I just did?’

__

‘No, not like that,’ Dorian assured, pulling him closer by the hand, carefully placing his other hand with the cast around Cullen’s neck. Their knees brushed as Dorian dared move into intimate space, into the kind of territory that usually only resulted in one thing. ‘Listen to me. You… are perfect.’

__

Cullen closed his eyes, shaking his head just a fraction.

__

‘No, no, don’t withdraw,’ Dorian said in a low voice, strong and sure. ‘Stay with me, all right? You are absolutely perfect and you’re a beautiful person, inside and out. I could list everything about you that leaves me star struck and it still wouldn’t be enough. All this, everything you said, it’s the most incredible thing anyone has ever told me.’

__

Cullen’s free hand moved slowly to brush against Dorian’s side, making the whole thing just that little bit more intimate.

__

‘I don’t need to think about what you’ve said, because I believe you. I trust you and I _see_ you, I see what it is you’re offering. What I want to think about… is me. And I know that’s really selfish, I _know_. But I want just a bit of time to understand how I feel about it, what it means to me because you’re right, this is the first time it’s really been crystal clear. I’ve felt parts of it here and there, bits and pieces but I never really let myself _see_ it.’ He untangled their hands to stroke Cullen’s face, knowing he really shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help it. ‘And I’m going to take that time, more than anything, because the last thing I want to do,’ he said in a rough whisper, feeling the distance contracting, narrowing. ‘Is hurt you.’

__

At some point during his speech, Dorian had moved close enough that he was essentially in Cullen’s lap, semi-straddling him. It went in direct contrast with what he was actually _saying_ but he couldn’t bring himself to move back, caught in the sway of the thing between them, of the worryingly musical rhythm of his heart, at the way Cullen stared up at him, trusting and so full of adoration that Dorian wondered how, fucking _how_ , he really hadn’t seen it before? Denial was a real, living thing, it seemed.

__

He swallowed hard, fingers gently moving into Cullen’s hair.

__

‘Is that… all right?’

__

Earnestly, Cullen said, ‘Dorian, I want what you want.’

__

‘I suppose I probably shouldn’t be in your lap, should I?’

__

Cullen’s gaze wandered down, slow and warm. Both his hands were loosely about Dorian’s waist now, neither of them wearing much in the way of clothing. Dorian had yanked his t-shirt off in the night at some point and Cullen’s was thin enough that he could feel the heat coming from his torso, chest to chest as they were. Boxers weren’t doing a whole lot in the way of concealing bodily interest either.

__

Cullen looked back up. ‘I want what you want,’ he said again, voice like silk, framed with patience and… and _love_ , as Dorian let himself think for the first time. Cullen was looking at him like he _loved_ him. It wasn’t anything new, really. He’d looked at him like that before, but now Dorian understood, now he _knew_. ‘There’s no rush to do anything, no rules for how to proceed here. I’m going to follow your lead. Whatever you decide.’

__

It went beyond being sweet, being patient. Dorian was staring down into him, right fucking _into_ those pretty eyes, and so he could see with absolute clarity what Cullen was offering.

__

Cullen was letting him choose, letting him decide. Giving him the power, such as it were. He’d opened his heart, made his side of things apparent and demanded nothing in return.

__

‘What if,’ Dorian whispered hesitantly. ‘I decide I just want to be friends?’

__

‘I would be forever grateful to be your friend. That’s not something lesser to me, it’s not _just_ being your friend. I love you and if I get to be your friend, that would be amazing.’

__

The scary thing was, Dorian thought maybe he actually _meant_ that. Such men could not exist, could they?

__

‘All right,’ Dorian said, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to Cullen’s. ‘Thank you.’

__

‘You’re going to take some time?’

__

‘Yeah.’

__

‘Think about everything?’

__

‘I will, yes.’

__

‘Good. That makes me really happy.’

__

‘Even though I’m in your lap?’

__

‘Well, _that_ makes me really happy too.’

__

Dorian snorted softly with laughter, grinning despite himself. He wrapped his arms around Cullen then, hugging him. Cullen returned the embrace, a low sigh burring in his chest. Dorian had his eyes closed, just revelling in the contact. In the feel of another’s arms around him, the sheer fucking _safety_ of it. It was a dizzying thing, that safety, For what had once been a life driven by lust for risk, for pushing boundaries and wanting to see how far he could go, Dorian found that in those moments, the feeling of security and of _love_ was entirely unparalleled.

__

‘I suppose I should stop praising you all the time too,’ Dorian sighed when they drew apart, his hands on Cullen’s shoulders. ‘Though in all fairness, it’s not my fault you have a praise kink.’

__

Cullen blinked, wrinkling his nose like a confused puppy. ‘I do?’

__

Dorian stared, fingers of his good hand idly playing with the side of Cullen’s neck. ‘You’re joking, right?’

__

‘A praise kink? Is that a thing?’

__

‘I—Cullen, you’re _kidding_ , surely!’

__

The corner of a pretty, scarred mouth curled slightly. ‘Well, I also didn’t know who Brian _fucking_ Kinney was and had never worn body glitter before I met you, so forgive me for being slow on the whole _kink_ thing.’

__

‘You didn’t notice it before?’ Dorian asked delicately, not wanting to even speak that bitch’s name when they were close like this.

__

Cullen frowned, thinking. ‘I never _had_ it before,’ he said, so plainly honest that it made Dorian’s heart twist. ‘People give me praise sometimes, mostly it’s… shallow and false, driven by motive. Nothing has ever affected me the way you do, the way you talk to me.’

__

Dorian was starting to think that sitting in Cullen’s lap, breathing the same air with their arms wrapped around one another was perhaps _not_ the best idea if he was determined to _“think about it”._

__

Maybe discussing Cullen’s heretofore undiagnosed praise kink wasn’t the best idea, either.

__

‘So, you’re saying it’s just me?’

__

‘It’s just you.’

__

‘But you like it when I give you little instructions,’ Dorian went on, glutton for punishment. ‘You like when I… hmm, take control, don’t you?’

__

‘I like that you’re strong,’ Cullen said, with absolutely none of the embarrassment that Dorian would probably have choked on, had their roles been reversed. ‘I get caught up in it. It has a physical effect on me, like magic.’

__

Dorian smiled artfully. ‘Like magic?’

__

‘Exactly like that, yeah.’

__

‘So, what you’re saying,’ he said, fingers tickling their way down Cullen’s back under his t-shirt. ‘Is that you’re a little bit under my spell?’

__

Cullen’s smile widened, hands not moving from where they rested on Dorian’s waist.

__

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Maybe more than a little bit.’

__

‘You like it when I praise you?’

__

‘I love it when I do something that you approve of,’ Cullen clarified easily. ‘I feel _seen_ by you. You make me glow.’

__

The urge to kiss Cullen was genuinely becoming painful, but Dorian kept himself still the same way Cullen didn’t move his hands. The air between them was thickening, all their words turning warm, liquid fire stoking the heat in their blood.

__

‘You like it when I photograph you.’

__

‘Because you make me into something better than what I am. You make me feel beautiful.’

__

‘You _are_ beautiful.’

__

Cullen’s eyes closed suddenly, jaw clenching a little but the pressure of his hands never once changed.

__

‘Tell me how that feels.’

__

‘It hits me like a sensation,’ Cullen ground out softly, eyes still closed. ‘Like a real, physical touch, right in the centre of my chest. It leaves me dazed by it. I can’t really control it.’

__

Oh, Jesus Christ, this was not _Thinking About It;_ this was right on the verge of fucking _Doing It._

__

‘Do you think,’ Dorian asked in a thick, throaty whisper, their faces close enough now that if either moved, their lips would brush. ‘If I kept talking, telling you everything I think about you, that you could come untouched?’

__

Slowly. Cullen opened his eyes, panting softly. The intensity there in those brown eyes was striking. He hadn’t looked drunk last night, not even after several glasses of wine but now… now he looked like he was fucking _high_. Pupils blown, blinking slowly but all of his focus was on Dorian.’

__

‘M-maybe.’

__

‘Would that be something you liked, one day?’

__

Cullen keened, biting his bottom lip and nodding.

__

‘Say it, darling.’

__

_Cullen breathed a very swift, very soft, ‘Oh _God,_ ’ _when Dorian called him _darling_. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘For you to make me come untouched.’

‘Do you want that now?’

‘I… I do, but—’

‘You want to stop?’

Cullen shook his head.

‘What’s holding you back?’

The rational part of Dorian’s brain glared at him. _How about the fact that he offered you his whole heart and you said you need time to consider it? How about the fact that he hasn't even kissed you yet? Fucking knob._

But somehow, Dorian knew it wasn’t that.

Cullen said, ‘I don’t want it to be _just_ me.’

Which left Dorian with a choice.

He could keep going, he could _do something,_ maybe even touch himself and he could push Cullen right to the edge. Bring him off with words, with this apparent _magic_ he could weave for Cullen and Cullen alone, without ever touching him.

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

Or.

_Or_ he could stop.

They could stop. Untangle. Retreat to a shower, sort it out alone. Process feelings. Smile across the distance and then, maybe, Dorian could get a little bit of perspective about everything that had happened that morning.

And really, that was for the best. Because although he knew he was holding Cullen’s heart right in the palm of his hands, Cullen wasn’t the only one who might lose control if things escalated any more.

Dorian took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. ‘Then we’ll stop.’

Cullen swallowed and nodded, letting his forehead fall gently against Dorian’s chin. Some of the tension began to lessen. Dorian stroked his hair like one would stroke a cat. Cullen’s arms moved around Dorian’s back, the embrace turning into a hug once more, despite the insistent press of hardness, this time from both men.

Dorian didn’t mind it, felt no compulsion to _do something_ about it. And when they heard noises from next door, from the bedroom across the hall followed by the rumbling of a kettle being boiled, they didn’t rush to part either.

*

Dorian took his final shower in the Mandarin hotel, savouring the luxury, the water pressure, the incredible flavour of the shampoos, the fluffiness of the towels (at least one of which he wanted to take home but heroically refrained). He showered and washed his hair thoroughly with one hand, making a somewhat defeated attempt to keep the fucked one dry, but really, at this point the cast was well and truly ruined. Like it had been to Mount sodding Doom and back again. Experimentally, he wiggled his thumb a few times, pleased that it barely even hurt. He looked at the scrapes up his arms, down at his torn knees. His ribs still ached when he took in huge, rapid breaths but as there wasn’t any call for that _at present_ , he decided he’d be OK.

And in the shower, which Dorian made last longer than necessary, he smiled to himself and replayed it all in his head.

*

Give Cullen his due, he acted no differently than usual. Dorian couldn’t fault him for the way things… just sort of went right back to normal, except that Cullen’s eyes maybe shone a little brighter. He was sweet and considerate, but he’d _always_ been that way. His excitement about seeing his sister tomorrow was almost contagious and he remained as tactile as ever. Fingers sweeping along Dorian’s back as he passed, touching his arm for attention to ask if there were any clothes he wanted to bring along, otherwise they’d buy new ones in Sardinia, fixing Dorian’s moustache with a sweep of his thumb when it was apparently a little crooked.

No kisses, though.

They left Prague together, Thom driving them all to the airport.

Dorian looked back, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He’d taken a few of the little shampoo bottles as a souvenir, but otherwise, had brought along none of the clothes. He was happy so long as he had his favourite jeans, shirt and his night clothes. All else, he was starting to understand, was replaceable.

‘Bye Prague,’ he said, under his breath as the plane took off, Cullen beside him, holding his hand, thumb stroking his knuckles. Dorian didn’t make as big a deal as before, pretending to be scared to fly but he didn’t correct Cullen either when he offered soothing remarks. Cullen’s own fear was set aside to help Dorian. He was strong because someone needed him to be.

Dorian understood and when possible, he drew circles into Cullen’s palm with his fingertips.

*

The first thing he noticed when they landed was the heat.

Yes, it was almost July. Yes, it was a hot country by all rights but when they stepped off the plane, the cool recycled air from the pressurised interior met the hot, humid atmosphere of Sardinia and Dorian’s British sensibilities kicked in fully.

‘Fucking hell, it’s hot,’ he commented in a mildly scandalised tone.

‘Ahh,’ Josie sighed, looking up at striking blue skies with not a cloud to be seen. ‘Glorious.’

Leliana also seemed pleased about the sun, putting her sunglasses on with flair. Thom made displeased sounds, mumbling under his breath about humidity, glaring up at the sun. Fenris didn’t seem to care about the weather, scanning the runway, alert and attentive. As far as Dorian could see, they hadn’t travelled with any additional security. Thom and Josie were the only two extras they’d left Prague with.

A limo was waiting for them and inside, it was cool and air conditioned. Dorian felt a little tired from the travelling, despite it only being a few hours. The others were speaking, their voices like soothing white noise. In the back of the limousine, he rested his head on Cullen’s shoulder and closed his eyes, sighing.

*

When he opened his eyes, Cullen was gently nudging him.

‘We’re at the hotel,’ he told Dorian. ‘You can go up to the room and sleep some more if you like.’

But Dorian didn’t feel tired. His little nap seemed to have done the trick. He felt excited, energetic.

‘No, I think I’m good, thanks,’ he said, peering out of the open doors of the limo. A warm breeze drifted inside and the smell of delicate briny salt. ‘What’s on the agenda?’

Cullen smiled easily as Dorian moved away, wiping his mouth to ensure there was minimal drool.

‘Check in at the hotel and then shopping.’

Dorian climbed out of the limo and realised, with an abrupt kind of excitement, that they were by the sea. Practically _in_ the sea. The limo was stopped right in front of the hotel and behind that hotel, the _Marinedda_ , was the Mediterranean ocean, sharply blue and fucking stunning, like finest cut sapphires. It took Dorian’s breath away, reminded him of a dream.

‘May I take your bag, sir?’ a young man was offering Dorian, which was relatively amusing, considering he’d landed in the country with fuck all besides a backpack. Dorian was about to decline his bafflingly generous offer when he realised the poor boy was actually speaking about the three enormous cases _behind_ Dorian that Thom was hauling out of the boot, all of them Cullen’s.

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, doing his best to seem sage. ‘Yes, thank you.’ He turned to Cullen, who was speaking with Josie and Lee. ‘Um, this is amazing.’

‘You like it?’ Cullen said, gazing up at the front. ‘I’ve never stayed here before but Josie said it’s the best.’

‘It’s only for one night,’ Leliana reminded them, showing Cullen something on her phone and he nodded at whatever it was, crossing his arms. Thom thanked the driver of the limo, shaking his hand and patting him on the back before he drove away.

‘Thirty six degrees, it is,’ he grumbled to no one in particular. ‘Thirty _bloody_ six.’

‘Yes, Thom,’ Leliana uttered dryly, swiping her screen. ‘That’s generally how it is, in hot places.’ She glanced up at Cullen. ‘You’re sure? Once you agree, this will be binding.’

‘You’ve had our people read through it.’

_‘Obviously_ , but I’m just checking,’ she said with obvious effort to remain patient. ‘That this isn’t something you’ll… rebel against.’

Dorian pretended to be very interested in his fingernails, not wanting to seem like he was snooping. It was hardly his fault they were discussing God only knew what on the pavement outside yet another five star hotel.

‘No rebelling,’ Cullen assured her with a wry chuckle. ‘It’s fine.’ He then signed whatever it was with his fingertip on Lee’s phone.

‘It’s a generous extension, I hope you know that.’

‘I’ll meet the deadline.’

Dorian could tell she wanted to press it, even as the limo pulled away and they were left standing outside of huge, gleaming glass doors, the ocean sprawling behind them, taste of salt in the air.

‘All right.’

‘You guys check in,’ Fenris said, glancing at Thom. ‘We’re doing the perimeters.’

Josie sidled up to Dorian and linked arms with him, dazzling smile in place. ‘How was your nap?’

‘Uh, it was nice,’ he answered, thinking that Cullen really _did_ make a good bed.

Y’know, Cullen? The guy who literally confessed to being _in love with him_ mere hours ago?

Dorian shook his head and smiled in wonder, biting his bottom lip to temper that smile before it got out of hand. The mere recollection still did crazy things to him.

Lee and Cullen were moving inside, both wearing sunglasses and looking extremely cool. Josie on the other hand was pleasantly, stylishly scruffy. She reminded Dorian of a richer version of Sera in many ways. Hair piled in a huge messy bun, wearing a creased white blouse and red jeans with converse. And yet somehow, there was an element of _royalty_ about her. Like no matter what she wore, her class was undeniable.

‘So, just the one night here?’ Dorian asked as they entered the cool, marble lobby. At the front desk, Cullen took off his sunglasses and the receptionist gave him the slow, bright smile that a rather stunning amount of people tended to when they caught sight of his actual face.

Dorian felt just a bit smug, what with Cullen loving _him_ and all.

‘Welcome to the Marinedda, Mr Rutherford,’ she said in a gorgeous accent. ‘Your rooms are all ready for you. Anything you require during your stay, please don’t hesitate to contact me personally.’

Dorian _really_ wanted to go and stand beside Cullen, maybe twine their fingers together, drop a not-so casual _darling_ into the mix, just to see the woman twig that she had no chance with the beautiful blond because… well, because…

No, that was _petty_ and Dorian had still not completed his _Thinking About It_ so technically, he had very little right to pull such a stunt.

‘My name’s Francesca,’ the pretty receptionist rang off, handing over keycards and a few other things.

Cullen’s smile was easy and sweet, but Dorian was starting to notice that it was a specific kind of smile. A variant of the shallow, practised thing he had for dealing with people when they ( _inevitably_ ) tended to fawn over him due to his God-like looks.

It wasn’t the same way he smiled at Dorian, oh no.

That was something else.

*

‘Oh _dear_ ,’ Josie said, tapping her lips with her index finger as they stood in the top suite of the Marinedda. Panoramic ocean view, private rooftop terrace complete with private pool/jacuzzi, bathrooms to die for and a massive, four poster California King.

Just one of them.

‘What’s wrong?’ Lee asked, drifting into the suite, phone to her ear.

‘Well,’ Josie said, biting back a grin. ‘There seems to be only one bed.’

Lee’s gaze shot to Dorian as if he himself had orchestrated it thusly when _hello_ , he wasn’t even sure where the fuck they _were._ Probably couldn’t point to himself on a globe.

She gave him a solid up and down, eyes narrowing. ‘James, I’m going to call you back. Yes. Deal with it.’

Cullen was sat outside on the terrace with Fenris near the pool. They were going over some kind of security for his work that night and he had not yet noticed that unlike the biggest suite in the _Mandarin_ , there really was only one humongous bed. Great, massive thing big enough for four people, but still… only one of them. Leliana and Josie were on the floor beneath with what were _apparently_ two bed and Thom and Fenris were also elsewhere.

‘I mean,’ Dorian said laughing. ‘It’s literally no problem. Look at that sofa. It’s bigger than my bed at home.’

Josie mock grimaced. ‘I can’t see Cullen letting you sleep on the sofa.’

‘Dorian,’ Leliana said pleasantly, which made it all the more terrifying, her focus on him like a hawk. ‘A word, please?’

Barely hiding a nervous swallow, Dorian followed her away from the suite and into yet another glorious, new bathroom. This one was all crystal and white marble and just _look_ at the size of that shower.

‘You lied to me,’ she said as soon as the door closed.

‘I—well, no,’ he hedged with a frown.

‘You said you weren’t into him.’

‘All right, so maybe I was purposefully ambiguous.’

‘There was nothing ambiguous about it,’ she pressed, arms crossed. ‘I asked you very clearly if you were into Cullen and you said _no_!’

‘Yes, that point has some merit.’

Leliana surveyed him evenly, but sharply. ‘So, you like him, then?’

‘Look, I’m taking a little while to figure things out for myself.’

She wrinkled her nose and squinted. ‘What the fuck do you need to figure out? Have you _met_ Cullen? Ever had a conversation with him? I know I’m biased because he’s my friend, but he does happen to be one of the best men on the _planet_ , Dorian.’

‘In that we’re both agreed,’ Dorian said, standing his ground. ‘Which is why I want to take the time to make sure I’m ready.’

‘Ready?’

‘To be—well, to potentially be in a relationship again.’

She softened slightly at that. ‘I see.’

‘And I can be sort of _flaky_ sometimes due to—to things that happened before. I don’t want to be like that for him, so instead of rushing headlong into something, I’m just going to let the feeling… settle. Let it settle and go from there.’ He toed the ground, dropping his gaze. ‘Decisions made in the heat of the moment aren’t always the smartest.’

‘Hmm.’

‘And yeah, I lied to you. Yes, I was into him.’

‘I mean, _obviously_.’

‘Then why are you even mad at me?’

‘I’m not mad at you. I suppose,’ she sighed. ‘I’m just looking out for my friends.’

Dorian’s brow creased just a tad because she’d said _friends_ but it was extremely unlikely she was including Dorian in that collective. He refrained from doing anything embarrassing like _asking_ what she meant.

‘I understand.’

‘So, are you admitting you’re into him, now?’

‘Of course I’m into him. I just want a little bit of time to process what he told me.’

‘That he’s in love with you.’

Dorian’s gaze shot up. ‘He—he _told_ you?’

Leliana seemed vaguely unimpressed with Dorian’s entire existence. ‘He told us that morning in your flat, while he made you breakfast. He didn’t use the word _love_ , but he didn’t have to. We know him.’

Dorian burned to ask what exactly Cullen had said about him that morning, but again he refrained and held his silence.

‘Right well, yeah. _That_. I’m taking a little bit of time to process _that_.’

‘I suppose that’s fair. I do _so_ look forward to watching the pair of you dance around each other until you make up your mind or…’ she gestured vaguely. ‘Complete your processing.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Cullen has a lot of work coming up.’

‘Right.’

Leliana didn’t actually seem to blink very often. ‘Minimal distractions would be wonderful.’

‘I’m not… distracting,’ Dorian defended lamely.

‘This is not me telling you to stay away from him,’ she clarified gently, or as gently as Leliana ever did anything. ‘Just that he has a deadline, one that absolutely cannot be messed around with this time.’

‘When’s the deadline?’

‘Two months. Henceforth, _minimal_ distractions, unless they’re helpful.’

‘What’s a _helpful_ distraction?’

Leliana did not answer, but Dorian had the vaguest idea of what it might entail anyway. Her silence spanned on and she was blocking the door, so Dorian artfully changed the subject.

‘So, uh. Who’s Alistair?’

She didn't seem fazed, which was good. Dorian wanted to _try_ and make things less… prickly between them, especially given that he had essentially lied to her, despite having what felt like deeply legitimate reasons at the time.

‘He’s someone I call on, now and then,’ she answered, moving to the raised glass sinks and running the cold tap. She filled her hands and splashed water onto her face. ‘Hand me a towel?’

Dorian did so, watching her pat her face after refreshing herself.

‘He’s a friend,’ she said, adjusting her outfit. ‘And a sex worker.’

Cullen had already told him about Leliana’s penchant for such proclivities before, so Dorian’s reaction was neutral and unruffled. Leliana seemed pleased by it.

‘That’s cool.’

‘He’ll be coming for the few days we’re in Corsica. Staying with us in the villa.’

‘Oh, it’s a villa? Not a hotel?’

‘Are you disappointed?’

‘No,’ Dorian said brightly. ‘Quite the opposite.’

Leliana half smiled. ‘I agree. Hotels are lovely,’ she said, looking around the pristine bathroom, like something from a fucking _movie_. 'But they’re cold and interchangeable after a while. They all start to look the same. It’s important to have somewhere that’s yours. That has the imprint of your own memories, good and bad, in the walls. You’ll like the villa. It’s very _Cullen.'_

Dorian realised he didn’t actually know what that meant. Cullen had lived in his loft and brought no new furniture into the room, nothing but his guitars and some clothes. Dorian had no idea what kind of _tastes_ the man possessed.

He was more than a little excited to learn.

‘But for now,’ she said, sweeping back her bob which was curling at the ends due to the humidity. ‘Enjoy the hotel. And do me a favour?’

‘Of course.’

‘Don’t offer to sleep on the sofa.’

*

‘I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ Cullen offered without missing a beat when presented with the bed situation.

Dorian was _itching_ to counter that offer with one of his own, to say that he too would sleep on the sofas and let Cullen have the bed, you know, the one he _paid_ for?

But Leliana had asked and Dorian had agreed.

‘If… you’re sure?’ he ground out, ignoring the way his sensibilities screamed at him for such a thing.

Cullen smiled the _Dorian_ smile. ‘Of course. They actually look amazing, better than the bed even. Then I can stay up all night and watch films too!’

Oh God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remind himself _why the fuck_ he wasn’t already in a relationship with Cullen, especially when the man was being so adorable, acting like an excited teenager and making out like he would somehow have a better time by sleeping on the _sofa_.

There were _reasons_ , damn it. The pursuit of intelligent decision making.

Cullen drifted away towards the living room area of the open plan suite, dropping heavily into what were admittedly plush-looking sofas. Nearby, there sat a grand piano, highly polished black surface catching the sun.

‘Odd for a Presidential suite not to have the option of additional beds, no?’ Thom mused as he finished his scan of the room, checking for God only knew what.

‘It’s not the Presidential suite,’ Leliana said, rapid fire typing on her phone as usual. Everyone looked at her and waited. ‘It’s the _Elicriso_ ,’ she explained, as if they were all stupid. ‘Cullen said to get the best room for himself and Dorian. Well, this is it.’

Josie grinned. ‘Lee, is this the _Honeymoon_ suite?’

‘Hence the one bed.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said faintly. ‘Right, yeah, that um. That makes sense.’

He wondered if Cullen had heard that.

‘We can swap if you like,’ Leliana said, not remotely concerned. ‘Josie and I have twin doubles.’

‘No swapping,’ Cullen called out from the sofa where he had apparently heard everything. ‘Unless Dorian wants to.’

Dorian actually sort of _did_ want to, given that it would at least mean Cullen could sleep in a real bed, but he also didn’t want to cause any additional trouble.

‘No,’ he said, glancing at the traitorous, gorgeous bed. ‘No, it’s fine.’

‘Excellent,’ Josie said and that was clearly that. ‘Now, onto the more important aspects.’

Fenris trailed inside. ‘Like shopping?’ he drawled.

‘Of course shopping!’ Josie said, clapping. ‘They have _incredible_ boutiques here. Designers whose art pieces you simply cannot get online!’

‘Where first?’ Lee asked, finally putting away her phone.

‘Porto Cervo.’

Dorian watched them talk with interest, but also with a growing sense of dread-based apprehension because he had a sneaking suspicion that Cullen was going to try and _buy him things_.

He also didn’t necessarily like the fact that he was a tiny bit excited about that.

‘Then,’ Josie went on, shrugging out of her blouse and into what seemed to be one of Cullen’s t-shirts without a care in the world. ‘Porto Rotondo!’

‘Well,’ Fenris said, slanting an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be all day.’

Josie and Lee scoffed. ‘We don’t need all day,’ Lee said. ‘These are tailored shops. Everything in them is perfect and beautiful. Very little browsing required.’

Fenris patted Dorian’s shoulder. ‘Good luck.’

*

While Fenris was off making sure that _security_ or whatever was all set for that night, Thom drove Dorian, Cullen, Leliana and Josie into the little pockets of Sardinia’s society. The island was beautifully bright, the rocks pale and warm in the sun, the sky blazing blue and it was rare not to have the ocean in view, such was the scope of the island.

The shops, _Boutiques_ as Josie had put it, were shamefully expensive.

Leliana and Josie were, to say the least, experienced shoppers. They went right for the assistants, gathering at least four of them. Dorian was mildly mortified when they then _closed the store_ for them, upon Leliana’s request. The first shop they’d gone to was admittedly not thronging with customers the way a Primark on Saturday might have been, but it was still one hell of an experience to have the doors closed, the shop locked up so they could shop in peace.

‘I want four of these,’ Leliana said, holding up shirts for Cullen. ‘Blue, black, grey and purple. Also, give me a variation of collars and buttons.’

Dorian learnt that neither Josie nor Leliana had any problem with the word _want_. They didn’t say, _I would like_ , they said, _I want_.

It was precise. To the point.

Kind of powerful, even if it was a tad rude.

Dorian had been raised by people who, despite their wealth, had been exceedingly well mannered. Dorian’s hand had been slapped many times as a child for saying _I want_ instead of _I would like_.

While the girls shopped, Cullen took Dorian all around the store.

‘This would look lovely on you,’ he’d say, holding up a shirt. ‘And these - _these_ are so you!’

Dorian followed, was helpless to do anything but follow and smile, caught in the glare of Cullen’s enthusiasm.

‘What about you?’ he asked, placing the pile of things Cullen had suggested - which had gotten smaller and smaller as Dorian had subtly put most of it back - on the counter.

‘Lee usually chooses things for me.’

It was a casual invitation. The use of the word _usually_ made it so that Dorian could nod and let it go or he could pursue an avenue _outside_ of the usual.

Dorian went for the latter.

‘I saw a few things that would look nice on you,’ he said, heading back to the men’s section. Though the shop was reasonably small, it had a gorgeous selection of men’s clothes. Shirts, blazers, trousers, jeans, t-shirts, swimwear, hats and shoes.

‘OK,’ Cullen said, following. ‘Lee’s already got a few things for work, so…’

‘So, non-work stuff, then?’ Dorian nodded, fingers trailing over the racks. ‘All right, what about… _ooh_ , this is pretty!’

He pulled out a very soft, thin t-shirt with a perfect rounded neck that was just a _tad_ lower than normal. He tried his very best _not_ to think about how if Cullen had worn this tee last night, Dorian would have seen a hint of the body glitter beneath it. On the front was a worn and aged AC-DC emblem.

‘Just for fun,’ Dorian reiterated, holding it up against Cullen’s chest, knuckles brushing his collarbone. ‘Can’t have you accidentally promoting a band outside your clientele, can we?’

‘I like AC-DC, but to be fair, I like a lot of mu—ah, I mean. Look at this one.’

Dorian followed, laying the tee over the crook of his arm, careful not to wrinkle something that cost an eye watering six hundred and fifty euros. ‘You can say it, y’know,’ Dorian said quietly. ‘Music. You can say it.’

A fairly complex series of emotions ran through Cullen. ‘I’d rather not, all the same.’

‘But you like music,’ Dorian went on carefully, scanning the racks. ‘I mean, obviously you like music. You work in the industry and you… y’know.’

‘I like eating meat too, but I wouldn’t make Josie eat it, no matter how delicious I might think it was.’ Cullen bit his bottom lip, examining a pair of tight cut jeans. ‘It’s a minor adjustment.’

‘That I don’t want you to make on my behalf.’

‘It’s OK to want things,’ Cullen reminded him while in the background, Josie and Lee did a splendid job of creating endless examples of precisely that. ‘Like how I want you to try this shirt on!’

The sudden upswing of his tone brought Dorian effortlessly out of his slightly sad reverie. He glanced toward the changing rooms, then back at the shirt Cullen was holding. It was a bit glitzy, more so than what Dorian usually wore but… hmm, maybe it was something he’d have worn _before_. The great, distant _Before_ that got further and further away with each passing day.

The shirt was mostly black with a cracked marble design. The cracks that stretched across the shirt were a thin, delicate rainbow that glinted and caught the light. A night sky struck by multicoloured lightning. It was unusual and undeniably flashy. 

‘Huh,’ he said, taking it carefully from Cullen. ‘It’s… I really like it.’ He spoke honestly, surprised that Cullen had found something that appealed to him quite so much, despite the fact that he wore mostly drab colours for the last year. Dressed to blend in, to meld into a crowd. Muted colours and nothing remotely flashy.

This was the complete opposite, except it was eighteen hundred euros and Dorian almost choked when he saw the tag.

‘Excuse me,’ Cullen said, waving over one of the highly eager assistants. ‘Can we get this in his size? Thank you.’

Dorian watched her go, having only glanced at Dorian once to ascertain his size. ‘You didn’t say _want_.’

Cullen pushed his hair back, the few curls that were misbehaving and falling into his eyes. ‘Maybe learning to want things is new to me too.’

*

The shirt fit like a dream and Dorian only felt _half_ horrified when Cullen bought it for him, along with a dozen other things. He definitely felt just a little bit sick when the teller announced a shockingly high total price for the things they’d purchased.

Thom, who had waited patiently by the doors, keeping an eye on the exits and his friends who moved within, suggested they go for late lunch before they moved on to the _next_ series of shops.

_‘More_ shops?’ Dorian asked, holding his bag very tightly.

Josie laughed. ‘Of course more. These are just _basics_! Stuff for the beach, a few bars maybe. Nothing special.’

*

They moved on to the Porto Rotondo and settled for lunch some place called _Lu Stazzu_ , which served the best damned Ravioli Dorian had ever eaten.

‘I’m surprised you restrained yourself,’ Josie said to Cullen, digging into her lunch of _pinzimonio_ vegetables. ‘And didn’t invade the kitchen to make Dorian’s food yourself.’

Cullen gave her an affectionately flat stare while Dorian’s cheeks flushed delicately. 

‘Lunch is different,’ Cullen said, cutting his flame grilled _porcetto_ precisely. ‘Dinner will be a whole thing.’

‘Dinner is always a whole thing,’ Lee said. ‘Are we shopping for dinner too?’

Cullen sounded rather pleased with himself. ‘Nope, I have plans.’

Dorian shook his head and smirked. ‘You always have plans.’

‘These are _retaliatory_ plans for last night.’

_Last night_. Dorian’s throat grew a little thicker upon recollection. So much had happened and yet emphatically _not_ happened.

And then that morning, after waking up stuck to Cullen, being told that he was loved, that Cullen was essentially his for the taking…

He swallowed the four cheese ravioli with a little more difficulty than the last piece.

‘That sounds almost aggressive,’ Thom commented cheerfully, his focus mostly on the restaurant. They were seated somewhere quiet. It could have been the VIP section. A round table just by the balcony, overlooking the sea.

‘It’s really not,’ Cullen chuckled. ‘And actually, compared to last night, it’s pretty basic but still. Should be fun.’

They weren’t next to each other because Dorian hadn’t wanted to chance it. Didn’t fully trust himself not to touch Cullen in some small, innocuous way. For now, a little distance was better. Safer.

They finished their late lunch and hit more shops. The kind of shops that had diamonds behind bullet proof glass and mannequins wearing bloody _ballgowns_.

‘Don’t worry,’ Josie whispered kindly when Dorian gawked. ‘It’s just a few things for award season.’

‘Uh huh,’ Dorian said, but he couldn’t help being drawn to the shiny things. Christ, he felt like he was in _Pretty Woman_ or some such shit. It was wall to wall formal wear. They didn’t have to close this store off, it was by appointment only and of course, Leliana had secured an appointment ahead of time.

‘Lee!’ the shop assistant greeted, planting double kisses like they were going out of style. ‘You look beautiful as always and _molta magra_!’

Leliana laughed and slipped into what Dorian recognised as rapid fire Italian.

‘Champagne?’ the woman, Greta, offered as two servers brought out trays and glasses. She didn’t wait for anyone to answer, simply set it down on one of the tables. ‘ _Va bene allora,_ we have a lovely selection. Choose what you want and then we’ll size you up and place the orders.’

Dorian glanced at Cullen, who was - for once - giving his phone a decent amount of attention.

‘Orders?’ he whispered quietly, seeking clarification.

‘Hmm?’ Cullen glanced up. ‘Oh, it’s all custom made.’

Christ.

‘Right.’

‘Dorian,’ came the voice he’d been half dreading. ‘Any interest in a suit?’

‘Not really.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Cullen and Dorian’s gazes met again, both half smiling.

‘You should get a nice suit,’ Cullen said simply.

‘I don’t need one,’ Dorian countered.

‘Ah,’ Cullen said, gesturing towards a rack of admittedly gorgeous, sharply cut suits. ‘But do you _want_ one?’

Dorian did not own a suit, at least not one that wasn’t 100% polyester blend and didn’t iron well because it kept almost melting. Still, if a t-shirt had been nearly a grand, he dreaded to think what a _custom_ made suit would cost.

That was not what Cullen had asked, however.

He closed his eyes. ‘I… do kind of want one, yeah.’

‘Excellent,’ Josie said, brisk and business-like. ‘Do you two want assistants or… no, you’ll be fine actually,’ she added, sounding distinctly amused. ‘Cullen, make sure you pick out at least three. Dorian, help him, yes?’

Dorian nodded.

‘Marvellous!’ she declared and dashed off towards Leliana. 

‘So,’ Dorian said seriously. ‘Suits.’

‘Suits,’ Cullen agreed. ‘It’s mostly boring. The girls don’t understand because they’re over there trying on ball gowns and tiaras but suits are actually pretty dull.’

Dorian snorted. ‘Wish you had a princess dress of your own?’

Cullen didn’t even feign mock outrage. ‘It would be more fun than this,’ he whispered with a resigned, yet fond air. ‘You should get something for your friends, maybe,’ he added, glancing back at the glittering wall of diamond pieces. Tiaras and bracelets, earrings and necklaces. A whole subset of rings too. All of it lit up for maximum brilliance.

‘Bit of an upgrade from a stick of rock, eh?’ he teased right back because like fuck was Cullen buying _diamonds_.

‘Still rocks,’ Cullen shrugged, dropping a ridiculously dorky yet charming wink. ‘Come on, help me choose three suits. I don’t really care, so I’ll leave the decision in your capable hands.’

Bit like that morning, then.

Despite not owning a proper one for a long time, Dorian knew a little about suits and what cut would suit Cullen.

‘I take it I’m not looking at price tags, right?’

Cullen glanced up from where they stood opposite each other, a rack between them. ‘You can if you like.’

There came excited giggling from the other end of the shop and after serving Josie and Lee, someone brought over champagne for Cullen and Dorian. Cullen politely declined but Dorian didn't. He took a healthy glug of sharply fizzy, beautifully accented champagne with a faint aftertaste of pears and elderflowers. Then he got to work.

He selected five suits, intending to narrow them down to three. Though he hadn’t really paid attention to the labels, two of them were _Zegna._ Dorian really, really didn’t want to be near the till when they were rung through.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s see how they look.’

Everything in the changing rooms was inky blue and chalky charcoal, an aesthetic Dorian couldn’t help but wish he could emulate for his bedroom. Cullen changed in the dressing room while Dorian waited outside, the pair separated only by a curtain. He heard the clinking of a belt, some shuffling and then a lot of tutting.

‘You need help?’ Dorian teased, fully _joking_ , eye-roll to prove it. Only Cullen had not seen the eye-roll.

‘Yes please.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, half wincing. ‘Right. Coming in, then.’

Cautiously, giving Cullen plenty of time, he opened the heavy grey velvet curtain and Cullen was stood there in what was still a very small space, despite the opulence all around them, struggling with the top parts of his suit and… ah, of course. He was shirtless.

Bare chest, oh so familiar to Dorian by now. It looked oddly _barren_ without any glitter.

His hair had been mussed from taking off his t-shirt, ruffled with static and Dorian found that helplessly adorable.

‘I’m all sweaty and it’s hard to get the arms in without banging my sodding elbows,’ he complained with a cute little frown. He stared at Dorian plaintively. ‘Help?’

Dorian dropped the curtain behind him, picking up the silken shirt that was likely hideously expensive. ‘All right, come here, you lummox.’

Cullen whined. ‘I didn’t want to _rip_ it!’

‘Upper arms like these, I suppose that’s a force of habit,’ Dorian smirked.

‘Hardly’

Dorian carefully guided strong arms through thin, gorgeous silk, circling around to ensure nothing tore and then brought it up his back, resting atop shoulders that he knew the feel of already.

The room was _small_. Like a fucking box and despite the air conditioning, it was still hot. Maybe that was the combined warmth of two bodies, though. Maybe it was the proximity.

‘Jacket?’ Dorian offered helpfully.

‘I can… um, probably do that myself.’

‘Yes, but now I’m here,’ Dorian said. ‘There we go. Let’s see it in the mirror.’

They left the stifling heat of the upright box and went right for the full length wrought iron mirror outside. Cullen looked at himself, instantly frowning a bit. A confused, _not so sure_ kind of thing. He looked himself up and down, pulling on the lapels, adjusting.

And Dorian had to shake himself, he really fucking did.

In the cramped changing room behind them, he hadn’t been able to take it in.

Take in the sheer _mind melting_ sexiness that was Cullen _in a suit._

‘Oh God,’ he muttered.

Cullen turned sharply. ‘What? Not good?’

‘Um.’

‘It’s the material, right? Or the… the buttons? I don’t know.’

_Be objective, you complete moron. He's asking for advice_ not _praise._

‘You look stunning.’

That strange little frown turned to something else, something uncertain, something… delicate. ‘You think?’

Dorian didn’t dare look too long at his face, knew it was dangerous to get caught up in his lovely, needy eyes. They required suits, damn it.

‘Yes, it’s really striking. I chose it specifically because of the lines here, you see?’

From behind, the pair of them looking into the mirror, Cullen followed where Dorian indicated. Up from the buttons that revealed skin beneath at the top, he showed him what looked good and where, trying to do so in a way that _didn't_ have that strangely magical effect on Cullen, but often failing.

They repeated the process with the other four. Cullen would change, Dorian would help here and there and then they’d stand in front of the mirror and Dorian would try - fucking _try -_ to be objective about the suits themselves, less so the man wearing them.

And they didn’t talk about it.

_It_.

Dorian didn’t really know whether to be proud or not, that he hadn’t taken one fucking _look_ at Cullen in formalwear and fallen to his knees, pleading for a union of some sort between them. Cullen didn’t mention it, made no reference to it and if Dorian didn’t know better, he might have suspected Cullen was pretending it had never happened.

Only he still looked at Dorian the same way. The exact same way he’d always looked at him. Nothing had _changed_ , not on Cullen’s end at least.

So Dorian thought. He pondered and he tried to understand the vast concept that, for the most part, was still quite foreign to him. The enormity of _love_ , the complexity of being in a relationship. He thought about it a lot, in between changings of expensive suits, at least.

‘It’s these three,’ Dorian said without a shadow of a doubt.

‘You’re sure?’ Cullen called out, changing once more into comfy, _normal_ clothes.

Dorian was checking his phone, a slight frown forming. ‘I’m sure,’ he said distractedly. He had missed calls from unknown numbers. Four of them. The first was a mobile. Two were UK landlines and one was quite literally UNKNOWN.

Shit.

He looked at the first number that had called about an hour ago. Dorian’s phone had been on silent, it usually was. No one important ever called him and his friends spoke mostly via WhatsApp.

With a small swallow, he called the first number back, the mobile. It started ringing, quiet enough that he had to put his botched hand over his other ear, though there wasn’t much noise to cancel, all told.

_‘Hello?’_

_‘_ Yeah, hi, you tried to call me?’

_‘Mr Pavus?’_

‘Yes,’ he said, deeply wary and detesting speaking to a stranger by phone. There had been _thousands_ of calls to his old number a year ago, some of them from filth like _The Sun_ and the _Daily Mail._ It had been a small mercy when he changed his number.

_‘It’s Mae Tilani, the building manager, sir.’_

He relaxed instantly. She was a nice lady, though he barely ever saw her. ‘Right, OK. What’s wrong?’

_‘I’m sorry to say you’ve been broken into, Dorian.’_

‘Oh, _fuck_ , really?’

_‘Yes_ ,’ she said, sounds in the background echoing like she was walking. _‘I’m inside now. The door was somehow wedged open.’_

‘It was bolted.’

_‘I know. It was a pretty sophisticated job, or so the police said. They came and went half an hour ago, standard procedure but I said you would do a proper look over for missing priceless antiques and gemstones when you get back. Are you away at the minute?’_

‘I—yeah,’ he said, panic strangling him instantly, but really, what could they have _taken?_ No fucker stole TV’s anymore, he had literally nothing of worth in that flat beyond a few keepsakes in a box under his bed. It was more the sick feeling of knowing someone had been inside. ‘Is it damaged? Is there—?’

_‘Whoever it was, they were very polite,’_ she chuckled darkly. _‘Nothing much seems out of place. It’s all very clean and tidy, the way I know you keep your place. I can have a look around while you’re on the phone with me if you like?’_

‘Um, no that’s… I’ll get my friends to go round and check it out, they have keys.’ Except the door was probably hanging off, probably battered and destroyed.

‘ _I've got a locksmith coming out to sort something with your door for now,’_ she said as if reading his mind. _‘But yeah, get them round. I’ll keep an eye on things if you like?’_

_‘_ That would be great. Thank you. Are you sure nothing is disturbed?’

_‘Having not seen how it was before you and your flatmate left, I wouldn’t want to panic you.’_

‘Panic me?’

_‘It’s probably nothing.’_

‘Mae, please.’

_‘Your roommate’s bed, it was rumpled a bit,’_ she sighed. _‘But that was literally it. Everything is pristine, or seems to be, at least.’_

Dorian’s mind went immediately to the _best_ possible scenario. A burglar who broke in, took one look around and realised they’d wasted their time completely, leaving instantly.

But the worst…

Oh, _shit_.

‘O-OK, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m going to go, sort it out with my friends. Thanks.’

He hung up quickly, whirling about to find Cullen standing right behind him.

‘Christ on a bicycle!’ he yelped, hand flying to heart.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Cullen soothed regretfully. ‘I just… what’s happened?’

Dorian didn’t try to make light of it, not at all, when he said, ‘Someone broke into our flat.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This felt weirdly to me like a nothing chapter but I think that's only because stuff is about to GO DOWN and even I am like, "finally!" Also, I see that word count creeping up despite my best intentions. I will try and scale it back a little next chapter but oh, the desire to make every chapter a story unto themselves remains STRONG.  
> Next chapter: Dorian learns more about this stalker, our boys Netflix and Chill (kinda) and we meet Rosalie!  
> Hope you liked this chapter, guys. 💜💜💜


	15. Come With Me My Love, To The Sea (The Sea of Love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I am so sorry this a day late BUT, this is a bit longer than usual to make up for it. I'm at the point now where I want to write longer chapters and that will likely mean no guarantee about updating twice weekly. It will be solidly Friday to Friday in official terms from now on and maybe here and there, I'll pop an extra chapter up but as everyone seemed to have no problem with longer chapters, that's how I'll go from here.   
> Guys, the response to this fic is incredible and it makes me deliriously happy to read each and every one of your comments. Can't thank you all enough.   
> Hope you enjoy.   
> 💜💜💜

‘I don’t care,’ Fenris said, implacable and utterly commanding. ‘Get them in there. I want fingerprints, I want…’ he threw Cullen a wary glance before resting the phone between his ear and shoulder, moving away, all the while typing something on _another_ phone to someone else. ‘The whole shebang, please,’ he went on. ‘Yeah. Great. Tell her to get back to me with CCTV, three mile radius. Thanks.’

He hung up with the kind of satisfying _snap_ that could only come from a flip-phone. Dorian didn’t know anyone who had a flip-phone. It was, apparently, one of many. What Fenris had deigned to briefly explain was something called a _burner_ phone.

‘They’re all over it,’ Fenris told Leliana, who came close the moment he finished speaking. ‘But it’s the same M.O.’

She rubbed her face. ‘Fucking _hell_.’

All around them where Dorian sat on the comfiest sofa in the world, the hotel suite was in quiet, very well organised chaos. Most of that chaos circulated around Fenris who was, judging by the sheer volume of calls he placed, amassing a small army in Dorian’s loft.

He looked down at his other phone. ‘Door is being reinforced as we speak,’ he informed Dorian who was still too shaken to be indignant. ‘It’s a thumb print lock with a daily rotational code as backup, completely un-hackable. Also installing motion detectors and a few other things, including alarms on the windows.’

‘It’s… on the top floor.’

Fenris shrugged. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

Speaking of _sorry_.

_Dorian, I_ _’m so, so sorry, this is all my fault. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. Fuck, I’m just so sorry._

_Mr Sorry_ was with Thom elsewhere in the suite, doing God only knew what. Dorian had been sat right in front of Fenris the moment they got back to the hotel and he hadn’t dared wander off since.

The _burner_ phone rang, tinny ringtone brimming with poorly timed nostalgia. ‘Dean, what’ve you got?’

Lee looked over at him. ‘Dorian, did you call your friends?’

‘Yeah, they’re both at work, but they said they’ll go round as soon as they finish,’ he answered miserably. ‘So, is it definite, it’s this—?’

She gestured for him to wait. ‘We’ll explain everything once we’re sure,’ she said calmly, but Dorian saw her hand tremble a little when she lowered it. ‘Tea?’

‘I can make it myself,’ he protested quietly, half expecting an argument.

‘Wonderful. Black with one sugar please.’

Fenris covered the mouthpiece of his highly retro phone and added, ‘Strong and sugarless, for me,’ and then dropped a reassuring wink at Dorian. It helped. He managed a smile, pleased to be allowed to _help_ instead of being waited on and he got up, looking around the unfamiliar room for the tea area above the mini fridge.

Dorian found it funny that no matter how expensive or cheap the hotel, they all came with a fucking kettle and teabags.

He passed Josie, who was on hold with someone on her phone.

‘Tea?’ he offered quietly.

‘Coffee please, three sugars,’ she whispered, touching his shoulder with a grateful smile.

And all right, so he was essentially _the fucking tea boy_ in this scenario, but hey, he could work his way up.

Dorian poked his head around the walls of the suite, into the living room area where Cullen stood, arms crossed and so rigid that Dorian could feel the tension from there, speaking in low, hushed tones with Thom.

‘…to push him away.’

‘That’s not a valid plan of action.’

‘I know, but the instinct to do so is strong.’

‘Cullen, there’s being protective and then there’s being stupid.’

‘I know that. I’m not disagreeing, at all, but it’s… well, you _asked_.’

‘I wanted to know your frame of mind before we—Dorian,’ Thom greeted in a soothingly calm variant of his deep voice. Cullen didn’t flinch or seem shocked, no trace of guilt when he turned to give Dorian a brief, somewhat harried smile.

‘Yeah, I’m doing a round of tea,’ Dorian said, wishing he could return Thom’s smile but he couldn’t look away from Cullen. The pair were just kind of staring at one another, Cullen’s gaze a hypnotic thing, like a riptide. Easy to slip into, tricky to escape. ‘Tea, or… coffee?’

Thom said, ‘I’ll have a tea. Mine’s the same as Lee. Cullen?’

It took Cullen a moment to shake himself. ‘No thanks, I’m fine.’

Thom gave him a stern look. ‘Have a tea.’

‘I—oh, all right.’

Dorian moved a little closer. ‘Well, you don’t have to, obviously,’ he chuckled nervously.

‘No, he’ll have a tea,’ Thom went on like a strict parent.

Cullen took a short, shallow breath. ‘Yeah, I’ll have a tea, thanks Dorian.’

Dorian’s opportunity to leave the difficult scene arose. He had full orders from everyone, a chance to be busy if not especially useful. And yet…hmm.

‘It’s natural to want to protect people when something goes wrong,’ he said quietly. Cullen didn’t look at him, but he felt the weight of his attention anyway. ‘And maybe even wanting to push people away, keep them out of harm’s reach, that’s normal too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But it’s a leftover instinct from when we were cave men, y’know? Like how babies cry when set down so they don’t get abandoned in a bush and eaten by bears. Wanting to shove someone you care about deep into a cave while you go off and battle sabre-tooths… it’s an instinct, but it’s unnecessary.’

Very slowly, Cullen looked at Dorian. ‘I know.’

‘Good. Because I don’t need your protection in this instance and believe me, I know pretty much everything about pushing people away, especially when you think it’s your fault.’ He took a single step closer and sighed. ‘Having a stalker is _not_ your fault. This is not something you _brought_ into my life.’ _Our_ _life_. ‘This isn’t something you invited out of carelessness. This is something that’s happening to you and I want to help because I’m… we’re… Look, the crux of my wordy babbling here is simply that you’re not going to be _able_ to push me away, even if you try.’ He shrugged and smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry.’

The corners of Cullen’s mouth curved just a tiny amount, his crossed arms relaxing and falling to his side. ‘Are you saying I’m stuck with you?’

‘I could well be saying that, yes.’

Cullen seemed to accept that without any resentment. ‘All right.’

Dorian had been braced for a fight, truth be told. Had been tensed right up for a good old bout of, _well you can_ _’t just shove me aside when things get rough, I’m here for you regardless!_ But Cullen put paid to that, to all other outcomes running through his mind.

Accepted that Dorian might have known a thing or two, even though it was no doubt difficult to relinquish that sense of responsibility and guilt over what was happening.

_Bowed to our superior logic_ , his brain added smugly.

‘Well, good. I’ll just go and make the tea, then.’

Cullen followed him. ‘I’ll help you.’

*

Dorian watched Cullen make his tea, didn’t comment on the fact that Cullen also liked being productive in a crisis and when the blond offered Dorian his tea, made just how he liked, Dorian took it. Their fingers brushed as the transfer happened, a small, brief touch and Dorian took what little strength from it he could.

‘Right,’ Fenris said, handing a notepad to Leliana. They turned their attention to Dorian, who was sitting with Cullen on the stupidly huge bed. ‘Through gait and height recognition, we’ve confirmed it’s the same man.’

Cullen swore under his breath.

‘The stalker?’ Dorian asked, holding his tea with both hands.

‘It was obvious from the onset,’ Fenris said. ‘It’s the same M.O. Never makes a mess, never gets seen properly by the cameras and he always goes right for wherever Cullen is sleeping. He probably took something too, he usually does. Something of Cullen’s. Dorian, we’d like to brief you about what we know of this man. Is that all right with you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

Fenris’s green eyes moved onto Cullen, silent and assessing.

‘I’m fine,’ Cullen said in a way that made Dorian look at him, heart tightening to see something like misery there in his features. He placed his botched hand over Cullen’s free one and then nodded at Fenris to go on.

‘Tell me.’

Fenris sat at the nearby desk, pulling the chair out. Lee and Josie were elsewhere, Thom out on the private terrace.

‘We don’t know the identity of this man, but from the profile we’ve compiled, we know it’s obsession based. He has a criminal past and he’s very much an expert in subterfuge, especially with breaking and entering.’

_‘Obsession_ based?’

Fenris sighed. ‘I think, and Cullen disagrees, that this man knew Cullen at some point. May have met him at the very least. We know that he’s strong, highly intelligent and that he’s not put off by the security we surround Cullen with. If anything, he seems to regard it as a challenge. Obviously, we’ve involved the police but it’s not something they’re equipped for. There are whole months where he vanishes, no incidents.’

‘So, he broke into our loft to do… what?’

‘The way that he broke in suggests he knew you were both away. He took his time, went in quietly through the front door. When he broke in before and Cullen was inside the property, he used windows.’

‘He broke in while you were _there_?’

Fenris didn’t say anything until Culled nodded. ‘He attacked Cullen in bed.’

Dorian’s good hand was holding a very hot cup of tea and that was the only reason it didn’t fly to his mouth. ‘ _What?_ _’_

_‘_ I’m fine,’ Cullen told him.

Dorian looked at him then, heart practically in his throat. ‘Fucking _hell_ , this—this is the man who broke in? Oh my God. When did this happen?’

‘Two weeks before I moved into your loft.’

_You make me feel safe_.

Dorian shook himself, trying to dislodge the building sense of nausea in the pit of his stomach. ‘Cullen, you should be somewhere _safe_! Actually safe, not living in a sodding loft in London!’

Cullen cracked a grin while Fenris laughed.

‘Your Leliana impression is dead on,’ the bodyguard said. ‘And look, from now on, your loft _will_ be safe. It’s my fault, I didn’t think he would be able to trace Cullen there so soon.’

‘Tell me more about him.’

‘What makes him unique in comparison to other stalkers, is that this man has no intention of being caught. With others, there is usually a degree of carelessness. The thrill of being caught and studied, of seeing the object of their desires in court even, it makes them act rashly sometimes. This man is different. We believe he has a specific plan in mind. Probably several.’

‘Fucking Christ.’

It made so much more sense now. The bracelets, the way Fenris checked everywhere and everything before he could relax in a room. The security teams, even Leliana’s concern about where Cullen was living.

‘The good news,’ Fenris added, inclining his head. ‘Is that we _are_ prepared to keep Cullen safe. This incident, while it seems awful, is not so bad in the scheme of things. It’s a matter of keeping everyone secure. Now that we know he’s aware of the loft, we can turn into Fort Knox and make it impossible for him to enter again.’

Dorian noticed that Fenris did not say, “keeping _Cullen_ secure.”

‘If this man,’ Dorian said slowly. ‘Has an… _interest_ in Cullen, does that mean he’d be angry if there was someone else in his life?’

Quietly, Fenris said, ‘We’ll keep you safe, Dorian.’

Of that, Dorian had no doubt.

‘Is there anything else I should know?’

‘Not that I can think of right now. There are technical details. He could very well be a hacker, but there’s little evidence of that. More just my own personal feeling.’

‘But the loft will be secure?’

‘Yes, absolutely.’

‘OK, thanks Fenris.’

‘Not at all. In the meantime, I’ve got a few people keeping an eye on your friends. I think the likelihood of this man going near them is pretty much zero, but better safe than sorry. Would you like us to take any other measures?’

‘Nothing I can think of.’

Fenris got to his feet, tea in hand. ‘I’ll be outside, then.’

As soon as he was gone, Dorian exhaled shakily and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Oh, bloody hell, no,’ Cullen said immediately. ‘There is no way _you_ _’re_ the sorry one here.’

‘No, I just mean… for what you’ve been through.’

Cullen’s cheeks turned slightly pink. ‘Oh. Right.’

‘This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.’

‘And yet, it started so well.’

Dorian looked down at their hands, so often the point of contact between them. ‘It really did.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Honestly? Sick. I feel sick that someone out there has you in their sights. I hate it.’

Cullen nodded. ‘It’s an adjustment.’

‘I hate that you’ve had to adjust to it,’ Dorian went on, unable to keep the tremor of anger from his tone. ‘I just, fuck, I just want _better_ for you.’

‘I’m lucky,’ Cullen said soothingly. ‘I have Fenris and Lee, Thom and Josie.’

‘And me.’

He smiled.

‘And you.’

‘I’ll keep you safe,’ Dorian insisted staunchly. ‘Just wait till I’m out of this cast. I’ll break my whole hand on his face.’

That earned a small laugh which Dorian deemed more than worth the effort.

‘We can keep each other safe, how’s that?’

‘I… hmm, I actually love that. Yes, let’s uh. Let’s keep each other safe.’

Wandering casually back into intimate territory seemed to be Dorian’s true North when it came to Cullen.

‘Sorry about your loft, though.’

‘Ah, you just couldn’t contain one last _sorry_ , could you?’ Dorian sighed extravagantly, plainly teasing. ‘Yes, how _tragic_ that now our lives in London will be that much safer when we get back. I’m not sure how I’ll cope, sleeping better at night. If you’re going to apologise for anything, apologise for the trauma you’ve inflicted upon me seeing how much _money_ was spent on clothes today.’

Cullen clearly found that amusing, drawing away from Dorian to place his now empty tea mug on the _floor_ by the bed like a barbarian.

‘It wasn’t that much. Leliana is amazing with investments, you know? She has portfolios. I don’t know, I don’t really get any of that stuff. All I know is she takes what we earn and performs miracles with it.’

‘Use of the stock market is an art, not a miracle,’ Leliana calmly corrected, sweeping past them toward the door. ‘We’re going to freshen up.’

Josie yawned, following her. ‘And maybe nap.’

‘See you at eight.’

Cullen waved. ‘See you then.’

Thom and Fenris left too, Fenris taking his many phones with him. ‘They’re both fine,’ he assured Cullen before he went and Dorian assumed he was speaking of Sophia and Madeline. ‘Get some rest, all right? Even if it’s just an hour.’

Cullen patted him on the back. ‘I’ll try. You too, all right?’

Fenris rolled his eyes and vacated the honeymoon suite, leaving Dorian and Cullen very much alone.

It was the first time they’d truly been alone since that morning. Even in the changing rooms together, Dorian had been able to detect Josie’s perfectly pitched laughter out in the shop.

Dorian hopped off of the bed. ‘Rest up, c’mon.’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘I wasn’t offering, it was clearly an order.’

He wondered if Cullen would make a joke of it. Would laugh and rub his neck, as was so often the man’s wont. Employ the nervous gesture that Dorian knew he himself mimicked sometimes.

Cullen looked at the bed, half biting his lip. ‘Maybe.’

Dorian’s instincts flared slightly, following his gaze to the bed. ‘Do you want… shall I stay with you?’

Cullen didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.

‘That sounds brilliant, actually,’ Dorian said, casual as he could make it. He flopped down heavily onto the bed. ‘Ahh, fucking _hell,_ that’s nice. Come feel it.’

Cullen did as he was told. He didn’t _flop_ like Dorian, though he could have, the bed was that big. He sat cautiously, lifting his sock-clad feet onto the silky covers.

‘You don’t have to stay.’

Dorian closed his eyes, the blissful mattress beneath providing just the right pressure and support for his back. God, after this trip he would need a new mattress at some point. His poor spine was spoilt for choice and the mattress at home had seen better years.

‘I know,’ he said easily. ‘I want to.’

_You make me feel safe_.

Good, because he _wanted_ Cullen to feel safe. Christ, it had been Dorian’s loft and all but it was Cullen’s bed that had been messed up. If Dorian felt violated, how must the other man have felt?

He thought of Cullen, _really_ thought about how fucking sweet the man was, how kind and caring. How much he loved his daughter, how he went out of his way to make people happy, including Dorian. How he’d actually been through hell with his ex and now this.

‘Can I cuddle you?’

Cullen was sat beside him on the bed, arms resting on his knees.

‘Of course.’

‘Actually,’ Dorian said, removing the top pillow, making it so they could lay down without breaking their necks in half. ‘I meant, come cuddle with me?’

Slowly, Cullen looked over. Dorian could tell what he was thinking and knew it was something along the lines of, _You Don_ _’t Have To._

He bit back the instinct to reiterate that _of fucking course_ he wanted to and let Cullen decide, let him choose.

When Cullen nodded minutely, Dorian opened one arm in invitation. Cullen crawled into the space offered, resting his head on Dorian’s upper arm, the pair shuffling to be closer and Dorian wrapped his arms around him then, pulling him in.

It took a painful amount of restraint not to kiss his hair, not to nuzzle those curls and then trail kisses all down his face, his cheeks. Dorian considered himself a superhero for not doing so, deserved fucking statues erected in his honour.

Hmm, best not to even _think_ of the word erected.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen sighed, his breath tickling Dorian’s neck. He sounded tired.

‘Rest for a bit,’ Dorian said, giving into the lesser evil of _stroking_ Cullen’s hair instead of kissing it. ‘You’re safe.’

Cullen hummed, resting one arm around Dorian’s back, the other curled between their chests. ‘Thank you so much.’

Oh, bloody hell.

Dorian pressed a light, single kiss into his hair, unable to help himself, lost to the precious man in his arms.

‘You’re welcome, darling.’

*

It was difficult when Cullen left that evening. Dorian tried to remind himself that this would pretty much be the last time he was obligated to leave like this, to attend an event that he hadn’t chosen to attend, network and promote, whatever it was he did while superstars performed for the world.

Dorian hadn’t expected to fall asleep while holding Cullen, but he had. It was only Fenris knocking two hours later that had woken them both. It wasn't awkward, not at all. Cullen’s smile meant that there was no trace of shame or regret, but it had left Dorian feeling kind of _hollow_ when the other man moved away, headed for the shower. His outfit was all picked out from their shopping trip earlier, no need for the full entourage this time apparently.

Cullen left and said he’d see Dorian later.

‘OK, later then!’

Dorian had sounded way cheerier than he actually _felt_ about that word _later._ He decided he did not like it, wanted Cullen _now_. No delay, no waiting game.

But he had things to do himself.

He called Sera and Lana, both of whom were stubborn and immovable about their offer to stay in the flat while Dorian and Cullen were away. Dorian pointed out that it was a lovely offer, but that their keys were now rendered moot and there were all sorts of obstacles to be overcome in gaining entry to the loft now.

_‘Tomorrow, get one of the security dudes to take us to the door and let us in,’_ Sera countered easily. _‘We’ll guard it all for you, babe.’_

‘Maybe,’ Dorian sighed. He was in the pool, twilight skies and gentle hum of cicadas in the air. As he spoke to them, he had his arms on the side of the pool, half in, half out. ‘I still can't believe someone broke in.’

‘ _I know,_ _’_ Lana agreed, sounding baffled. _‘You’ve got fuck all to steal.’_

He had not told them the _motive_ for the break in, didn’t think it was his place to splash Cullen’s secrets around like that.

‘ _Anyway, how are things going?_ _’_ Sera asked, changing the subject for which Dorian was grateful.

_‘Yeah, where’s our Dick Update? You fucked him yet?’_

‘Well,’ Dorian said delicately. ‘I do actually have some news, _but,_ _’_ he added in a stern voice when an orchestra of excitement began to crest on the other end of the line. ‘Not sex news, so calm yourselves.’

_‘Go on, then.’_

‘OK, promise you won’t tell anyone, though really, who would you tell, I suppose?’

_‘We promise,’_ they answered, once again in sync.

‘All right.’ Dorian took a deep breath. ‘Cullen said he’s in love with me.’

The silence went on so long that Dorian actually looked at his phone, checking to see if the call had dropped out but no, it was still there.

‘Um, hello?’

_‘Yeah, sorry, babe, sorry. We’re here. Just. What the friggin’ fuckballs is actually happening? It’s been three weeks! He’s in love with you?’_

Dorian laughed nervously. ‘That’s what he said.’

_‘How did he say it?’_ Lana asked, voice oddly thick.

‘He said, _I think I_ _’m falling in love with you.’_

Both girls sighed, though Lana’s shuddering exhale sounded closer to verging on tears. _‘Dor_ ,’ she said, heavily accented when emotional. _‘I’m so fuckin’ happy for you. You can’t even imagine what my heart is doing right now.’_

Dorian wasn’t entirely prepared for such a show of emotion. ‘You sure it’s not somewhere south of there?’ he teased awkwardly.

_‘No_ ,’ she assured him. _‘Of course he’s in love with you because you’re fucking_ incredible _._ _’_

_‘You are,’_ Sera agreed, sniffling.

‘Oh my God, are you two crying?’

_‘We’re happy for you.’_

‘Right well _don_ _’t_ cry and don’t jump to conclusions either. I’m… well, I’m thinking about it.’

_‘What does that mean?’_

‘He told me he loved me and I said I wanted to think about it.’

_‘You don’t feel the same?’_

‘Honestly, I don’t know yet.’ He sighed, pushing away from the edge and wading through the shadow waters to sit on the steps, phone to his ear. ‘I mean, it’s not even been a _month_! I don’t want to rush into anything with him. He’s too important to me, I can’t risk fucking it up.’

_‘Dor_ ,’ Sera said gently. _‘Do you not maybe think the fact that you want to protect him like that means you feel the same way?’_

He looked at his legs in the water, the pool illuminated at the sides by gentle blue and white lights. The temperature was cool and perfect, the slowly encroaching night warm and soft.

‘Maybe.’

_‘But_ ,’ Lana added. ‘ _I think you’re going about it the right way._ _Take the time, consider everything. Talk to him some more._ _’_

_‘Hmm, yeah,’_ Sera agreed. _‘Did you guys talk some more yesterday?’_

Christ, yesterday Dorian had been touching Cullen’s glittery chest and driving them both to the brink of madness with words.

‘We did, a bit.’

_‘…and?’_

‘I don’t know, I need to focus on this for now.’

_‘So_ ,’ Lana said, moving the conversation along. ‘ _What are your plans for tonight?’_

*

When Cullen got back from work that night, hair a delightful mess, smelling of fresh sweat and the girls’ perfume, the first thing he did was hug Dorian.

‘Missed you,’ he said, squeezing the dark haired man like he really meant it. ‘How was your evening?’

As they parted, Dorian swiped his thumb over Cullen’s cheek bone, a small smudge of something there which he removed. ‘It was lovely. I spent most of it in the pool.’

_‘That’s_ not a pool!’ Josie said in a startlingly accurate Australian accent, yanking off her blouse and unrepentantly stealing one of Dorian’s from the _New Clothes_ pile. ‘Tomorrow, you’ll see what a pool is!’ She cackled with fiendish glee and dive bombed onto the sofa.

‘Where’s Thom?’

‘Having an early night.’ Leliana seemed a little more subdued, but she gave Dorian a small smile as she shrugged out of her sleeveless jacket, hanging it neatly on the back of a chair. She looked as professional as ever; striking suit, hair razor sharp and blood red, makeup nothing less than pure art. It made Dorian a little bit sad that she rarely seemed to relax of an evening, at least not the way Josie did. The only time he’d seen her without makeup was the terrible _Madeline_ incident.

‘I can’t wait to do nothing,’ she moaned, rubbing her lower back.

Fenris came up behind her, thoughtlessly pressing his hands there, massaging at what was no doubt a painful knot as if that was a normal thing to do.

‘Bloody _hell_ , Lee,’ he murmured. ‘You had a massage less than three days ago.’

‘I’m frequently tense.’

Fenris rolled his eyes, tossing his phone on the bed where Dorian and Cullen had napped, applying two hands to her back, fingers around her waist, thumbs digging in.

Dorian kind of just _stood_ there, gawking. Christ, he’d thought he and Cullen were bad.

‘Right,’ he said moving away when neither of them seemed to realise what they were doing _right in front of him._ ‘What are these grand dinner plans, Cullen?’

‘OK, well they’re not _grand_ at all, _but_ ,’ the blond said with a pretty grin. ‘They will be fun!’

They showered, they changed and come eleven thirty, two very kind men from the hotel wheeled something huge and metal out onto the expansive private terrace.

‘Is that a fucking pizza oven?’

Cullen beamed. ‘Yup.’

They then brought up dough, freshly made sauces and all kinds of pre-chopped ingredients. Peppers, salami, olives, six kinds of cheese including thickly cut mozzarella. Fresh, bouncy greens, chicken, tuna, pineapple, ham and to Dorian’s delight, anchovies. They laid up the table with great huge platters and pizza cutters, ladles and salad servers amongst sauces and seasoning. Everything they needed for…

‘Pizza night!’

Dorian couldn’t deny his excitement. ‘I love pizza.’

‘Everyone loves pizza,’ Fenris chuckled, coming to stand beside him, wearing a loose tee and jeans, barefoot. ‘I spoke to your building manager, after I thoroughly vetted her of course.’

Dorian nodded solemnly. ‘Of course.’

‘She has the temporary passcodes for now and her fingerprint can grant access with an additional code I can give her by phone, _so_ ,’ he said reaching for one of the balls of dough, spreading flour across the plastic tablecloth. ‘If your friends want to go and get set up, they can check on the place whenever you need.’

Dorian watched him knead the dough much as he’d done to Leliana’s lower back. ‘That’s amazing, thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

‘All right, no one _contaminate_ my end!’ Josie called out. ‘This is a meat free zone!’

Leliana smirked. ‘That’s not what you said about _Sea Bass_ , was it?’

Dorian mushed his dough inexpertly, mostly copying Fenris or Cullen, whose technique seemed pretty much perfect. ‘You eat fish, then?’

‘No,’ Josie said, giving Leliana a deeply sardonic glare. ‘ _Sea Bass_ , as she calls him, is a person. Sebastian. We had a fling last week. It was reasonably fun.’

‘Where was your _meat free_ zone then?’ Lee teased.

Dorian snorted, Fenris bit his lips into his mouth and Cullen sprinkled flour over his dough before he started doing that amazing flippy thing with his hands.

_‘Someone’s_ excited,’ Josie mused smugly, rolling her dough instead of tossing it. ‘Already in the air, is he?’

Leliana didn’t miss a beat. ‘First class. He’ll be there tomorrow.’

‘This is Alistair?’ Dorian confirmed, kneading his dough and enjoying the feel of the squishy stuff beneath his palms.

‘Yes,’ Leliana told him. ‘He’s a friend of sorts. You’ll like him.’

Fenris mumbled, ‘ _I_ don’t like him.’

‘He likes _you_ ,’ Leliana countered.

‘Repeatedly asking me into your bed for a threesome does _not_ mean he likes me nor does it engender any affection towards him from me. He’s a cocky little shit.’

Dorian’s eyes were as wide as the sauce bowl Josie asked him to pass. He found Cullen watching him, a sweetly amused smile in place. Dorian gestured and made the universal, _Did You Just Hear That_ sign.

Leliana shrugged, sprinkling peppers over her pizza. ‘Hardly _little_.’

‘I like him,’ Josie added brightly.

‘You like _everyone_. And besides, I don’t think Dorian will like him necessarily,’ Fenris said, looking at the man in question. ‘He _is_ very showy. You’ll see.’

Dorian nodded. ‘Right.’

‘Don’t try to get Dorian on your side!’

‘He’s _already_ on my side. We bonded over manly activities.’

‘It’s true,’ Dorian sighed, liberally applying cheese to his rather messy base. ‘Bonded irreversibly, I’m afraid. If Fenris doesn’t like him, I too am doomed not to like him.’

Cullen and Josie laughed, while Lee rolled her eyes with amused resignation.

Making pizza was almost as messy as making sushi. Dorian’s own creation was a wonky oval covered with way too much cheese and anchovies. By the time it came out of the oven - all that cheese was bubbling and golden, the edges crispy and dark - Dorian could have cared less about the shape.

He waited for the others’ pizza to be cooked and while he waited, he cleared the table of the ingredients, taking them inside and loading them up on the small, unused table inside to make room. By the time he was done, everyone’s pizza was sizzling. Leliana sliced them up with a roller and then finally, sometime after midnight, they sat down together to eat, an almost full moon hanging over the nearby ocean.

Dorian sat next to Cullen that time, didn’t feel any need to put distance between them. He still hadn’t done any amount of _Thinking About It_ , not really, but he didn’t feel worried about being close to him. It felt natural.

It was hard to think of a time with Cullen when everything between them had _not_ felt natural.

*

‘Goodnight, lovely boy,’ Josie said, having had more than a few wines with her pizza, pulling Dorian into a messy hug by the suite door. ‘Oh, you’re so _pretty_ , look at you. If I could, I’d dress you in silky things and pierce the top of your ear, can you _imagine_?’

‘OK,’ Cullen said, heaving a patient sigh, drawing her away by the hand. ‘C’mon, no playing Dress-Up with Dorian.’

‘But he’s _beautiful!_ ’ she complained. ‘So very beautiful! Look at his _nose_ , oh I want to draw it!’

Dorian couldn’t help but laugh, hugging her in return before she was gently removed and taken by Leliana. Fenris bid them all a good night, holding the door open for the girls and though Dorian thought it was all very nice, quite wonderful even, he was just a _tiny_ bit eager for them to leave.

Strange how at one thirty AM, it felt like the night was only just starting.

‘So,’ Cullen said, for once a little awkward. ‘Are you tired?’

‘Not really, no. Do we have to be up early?’

‘The flight to Corsica is in the afternoon. We can sleep in if you like, or—I mean, _you_ can sleep in, I didn’t want to uh—’

‘Cullen,’ Dorian said, lifting his hand, shaking his head with a wry smile. ‘Can I make something clear?’

The blond froze. ‘Of course.’

‘You,’ Dorian said very plainly. ‘Have nothing to apologise to me for. You don’t need to worry about me misinterpreting things or taking something the wrong way.’ He took a step closer, drawing on the courage he found within. ‘I mean, not to the extent that you worry about it now, at least. I know I’ve known you less than a month and that this is a bit, hmm, weird?’ Dorian chuckled there, only the barest hint of insecurity in it. ‘But you don’t need to worry that I’m assuming the worst about you, because I’m not. I _know_ what you mean, most of the time anyway, when I let you get a word in edgewise, that is. I know what you mean to say.’

‘I get nervous around you,’ Cullen said softly, honestly.

‘Although it’s not immediately apparent,’ Dorian pointed out fairly. ‘I know that too. I’m… very much the same. Things come out too fast or not at all, sometimes in the wrong order. There are people who take your words at face value, who wait for you to trip and then turn that stumble to their advantage. I’m not one of them.’

‘I understand.’

‘Excellent. Are we watching TV, then?’

‘Whatever you want.’

‘Whatever _you_ want.’

_I want what you want._

‘The TV has Netflix built in,’ Dorian pointed out casually, grabbing a few cans of coke from the mini-fridge along with a bag of chocolate covered peanuts, the perma-frugal part of him wincing at such a brazen display of wanton indulgence. ‘ _Queer as Folk_ is on Netflix.’

Brown eyes brightened, taking a coke that Dorian offered. ‘Really?’

*

Cullen was right, the sofa was insanely comfortable. It was far bigger than any sofa Dorian had ever seen, a thing almost able to rival the monstrosity of a bed back there intended for married couples. It was a full L Shape, massive and sturdy, chesterfield arms and high backed with deluxe cushions.

‘You got the better end of this deal,’ Dorian said, snuggling into the corner while Cullen got changed into comfy clothes.

‘Too late now,’ the blond called out. ‘All mine.’

Dorian cracked his coke and scrolled through the pleasantly intuitive layout that all other streaming services had enviously mimicked. ‘I should warn you, though,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘They use different music.’

Cullen came into view, pulling a tee over his head, giving Dorian a brief flash of torso; golden chest hair and a single dusky nipple. ‘What do you mean?’

Dorian blinked harder than usual and looked back at the screen, the episode where they’d left off on pause. ‘Netflix couldn’t get the rights to use all the music from the original series so like, they replaced the majority of the well-known songs with rip-off versions that cost nothing to use.’

Cullen climbed over the back of the sofa like a caveman, dropping heavily beside Dorian. ‘No way.’

‘Yup.’

‘I mean, I won’t know the difference, but will that be annoying for—wait. There’s a lot of music in this show.’

‘A lot, yeah.’

‘Is that OK?’

‘It is, actually. It’s all very loud and nightclub-ish. Thumpa thumpa, and all that. Barely music at all, when I think about… about what I _class_ as music.’

‘We can watch something else.’

Dorian smiled, offering him a chocolaty snack. ‘No, I like this show and I want to watch it with you.’

He pressed play and the room filled with sound, bright light and vibrant characters. With wit and banter, with rainbows and sex.

This time around, the sex scenes didn’t feel half so awkward, though there was certainly not a decrease in the sheer volume of them.

‘I like Brian,’ Cullen said decisively when the next episode came on, Netflix’s auto-play giving them very little time to debate it.

Dorian snorted. ‘Of course you like Brian.’

‘Who’s your favourite? No wait, let me guess. Michael.’

‘I like the way he kisses.’

‘I like the way they all kiss. There’s no hesitation, it’s so _real_. I wish I’d seen this when I was younger. Christ, I struggled with myself a lot then.’

Dorian looked over, tossing a chocolate covered peanut in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth the way Fenris did, failing horribly when it hit him in the eye. ‘Ow. You did?’

Cullen shrugged and made a funny face; a frowny little grimace. ‘I don’t have the best history with guys.’

‘What _is_ your history with guys?’

‘I’ve only been with two.’

Oh, it was a whole big thing that Dorian _burned_ to ask about but he exercised restraint and plenty of it. If Cullen wanted to talk, he would.

Cullen, apparently, did not.

‘This would have blown my mind, really. I’d have loved to do the clubbing things,’ he said, gesturing to the fictional club _Babylon_ , to the men dancing and grinding.

‘We should do it,’ Dorian said without thinking. ‘When we get back to London, I’ll take you.’

There were a ton of double meanings in there that Dorian felt honour bound to stutter over and apologise for, but he’d been the one to say earlier about not getting flustered. Had insisted that he knew what Cullen meant and so he decided to trust that Cullen could do the same.

Cullen seemed doubtful. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Like I said, it’s not really music, anyway.’

It was very clear that Cullen wanted to ask what music _was_ to Dorian, but the question never came. Dorian could have offered it, felt brave enough to at least try to put it into words, but he didn't want to risk ruining the night.

‘Well, that sounds brilliant.’

‘Me taking _you_ out for a change.’

‘I’d love that.’

_I_ _’m in love with you_.

‘Sure, we’ll do that,’ Dorian said, sitting up a little straighter, trying to ignore the way his blood was suddenly running hot. ‘Except, I’ll show you a bit of _luxury,_ y’know? A touch of class.’

Cullen’s eyes shone. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘Absolutely. Start off the night pre-drinking indoors, 17p lemonade and ASDA’s own vodka. Then rock up to the club, flirt with a bouncer to jump the queue, get guys to buy us drinks, lose your wallet, butt dial Fenris, spill tequila on my leather trousers and end up in McDonald’s, telling the servers that they’re the unsung heroes of the food industry while ordering six Big Macs and dropping one before we get to the table.’

Cullen seemed to find that hilarious. Dorian smiled helplessly in response to it. He’d never really heard Cullen _laugh_ like that. Full belly laugh, gorgeous thing that he would happily spend his life in pursuit of.

‘Oh, I want that,’ Cullen said, panting somewhat. ‘Let’s do it, promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘Awesome.’

‘You have to wear trashy clothes, though.’

‘Brilliant.’

‘I might let you wear my leather trousers.’

‘And spill tequila on them?’

‘You wouldn’t dare, those trousers are a national fucking treasure!’

‘It would hardly be intentional!’

‘Christ, I bet Sera and Lana will want to come too,’ Dorian groaned, thinking what a wonderful nightmare that would be.

‘Good, I like your friends.’

‘You like them _now_ , because you barely know them.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘They’re _your_ friends, though.’ He said it as if offering unimpeachable logic.

‘They’re mental.’

‘They’re fun.’

‘Let’s see how fun you find it when Lana is crying all over you and Sera is about to deck some bloke because she got off with his girlfriend.’

‘I want it all!’ Cullen sighed dreamily. ‘I want the drama, I want the fun! I _never_ get to do things like that anymore! Not for years.’

‘Well, you can have it,’ Dorian said, carefully casual. ‘I want what you want, after all.’

Cullen didn’t say anything and a comfortable silence filled the space between them, the show playing. As the minutes wore on, Dorian began worrying his bottom lip.

‘Can I, uh,’ he said, shaking himself. ‘Hmm. It’s a cheeky request.’

Cullen looked over. ‘What?’

Dorian turned the volume down just a little bit and for fuck’s sake, there were better ways of asking this, but here it went anyway.

‘Can we cuddle?’

Cullen blinked three times in rapid succession. ‘You want to cuddle again?’

There was that word again, _want._ This trajectory towards decisiveness and clarity. Not asking if it was _possible_ to cuddle, instead nudging him to declare that he _wanted_ it, but want could be an ugly word sometimes and Dorian was still wary of it in some ways.

‘I’d like to, yeah. If that’s OK?’

It was subtle, the way Cullen swallowed. ‘Of course.’

Not _quite_ nervously, but certainly with a degree of care, Dorian moved towards Cullen, leaving his corner and heading into intimate space. Like Dorian had done before with their nap, Cullen lifted his arm and invited Dorian in.

Cullen was warm and he held Dorian perfectly when he leaned against him, letting out a content sigh. One arm around his back, curling loosely at his waist, Cullen reached for the remote and took control so Dorian could relax.

‘One more episode?’

‘If we can sleep in, sure.’

*

Dorian wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere around the time he would usually have passed out from fatigue, something of a second wind hit him. Not quite _energy_ , not quite _adrenaline_ , but he found he didn’t want to sleep, not at all.

Cuddling had evolved into them both _laying_ on the sofa together, Dorian half draped over Cullen like a throw, his head on the other man’s chest, Cullen stroking his hair slowly and methodically while they watched the show.

There were reasons to exercise restraint, there had been right from the get-go. Dorian had taken one fucking look at Cullen, the man who’d stammered through the first part of his interview for a roommate, and thought, _fuck, he_ _’s beautiful_. Reason enough to deny him the chance on general principal, but he’d given him that chance anyway. There were reasons not to be laying _on top of_ Cullen like this.

But, for the first time, Dorian was all too aware of the reasons in favour of it, also.

At two in the morning, watching one of the most sexually brazen shows ever created, chest to chest with the man who had that morning told Dorian he was in love with him, Dorian began to _Think About It_.

He let himself see it, picture it. Giving it a chance. Leaning into the motion instead of pulling away. Being Cullen’s boyfriend.

Kissing Cullen.

Touching him.

But _more_ than that.

Loving him.

Knowing him.

Intimacy born of time spent, of earning the privilege to truly know someone. To be their emergency contact. To be the one they went to first.

Dorian knew what it was to be in a relationship, he knew what it entailed and not all of it had been bad, not even with Harry, not with the few others before.

It would be different with Cullen, he could tell.

And no matter how naive it sounded in his head, Dorian couldn’t disabuse himself of the notion that it was _true._

Whatever it was between them, it _was_ different. It was new.

Unprecedented.

There were downsides. Huge, slippery slope downsides, despite how Dorian disliked that word. Cullen’s job was one of them. Cullen’s insanely generous nature would eventually become an issue and Dorian would put his (possibly by then bejewelled) foot down, insist on things being even between them. Cullen himself had pointed out the other night that there were downsides to liking (loving) Dorian and though that still stung, it wasn’t like Dorian _blamed_ him. Their first night together as roommates, Cullen had rubbed Dorian’s back while he puked up a night’s worth of alcohol and apologised in the same croaky, pathetic way that all end-of-night drunks did.

Cullen’s life was… different to the one Dorian had grown used to. His quiet loft and his loud nights, his mad friends and his anonymous Instagram. Their lives were starkly contrasted and it would become an issue at some point, Dorian knew.

Everything became an issue at one point or another, though. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue, the real and true thread of tightly wound hesitation that held Dorian back, even as Cullen played with his hair, as the man’s heartbeat thudded softly in Dorian’s ear… was that he wasn’t sure he could bear to lose him.

If it went wrong, if they weren’t _right_ for each other.

If Cullen drew away, found someone else.

When Dorian searched himself, it wasn’t the trials and challenges that lay ahead, seen and unseen, it was the threat of life _without_ them, without Cullen.

The world without Cullen would seem so very _grey._

So very quiet.

Dorian feared being left night-blind, feared coming to rely on someone only to have them torn away again, to stumble, dazed and alone. Pick up the pieces and start from scratch, scour the loft and remove all traces of that _other_ person.

He identified that fear, shone a mental light. 

Yes, that was it.

And really, it was all very simple once he stared it in the eye.

Dorian was afraid of being hurt.

But one thing was absolutely certain; friends did not lay on top of friends. There might have been a time before, maybe in the first day or so of knowing Cullen, when he could have set boundaries and decided to only befriend the man. That time was long past now.

He was delaying what honestly felt _inevitable_ and for the first time in his life, that word did not inspire hopelessness, the way Agent Smith had intended when he spoke it to kick-ass Keanu as a train approached.

The word held different meaning then, as Dorian half nuzzled Cullen’s chest like a cat. It meant not having to worry. It meant taking his time. Enjoying simply growing closer. Cullen was there, he’d made his feelings clear.

Dorian’s feelings were also quite clear to him then, watching beautiful men kissing on a sixty five inch screen.

He let out a tonal sigh, a thing of deep satisfaction, despite his body wholeheartedly disagreeing.

Cullen moved beneath him, angling to see. ‘OK?’

Dorian nodded, smiling to himself. ‘All good.’

*

They fell asleep together and awoke in a tangle of limbs and sleepy laughter because at some point, Dorian had become squished down the back of the sofa and Cullen had to rescue him.

‘I’ve got you,’ Cullen said, when he pulled Dorian free of the surprisingly deep sofa. ‘You’re safe.’

Dorian wanted to kiss him, found that he wanted to kiss him for all time. Did not want there to be a single moment when they were not kissing.

Still caught in the vestiges of sleep, he put his hand on Cullen’s chest, the place where it seemed naturally drawn to.

‘I know,’ Dorian breathed, still laughing a bit. ‘I know.’

*

The mood had shifted for everyone. Cullen seemed thrilled to be done with the work he hadn’t wanted to do in the first place. Fenris explained that unlike the hotels, the villa they were headed to was extremely secure and so it meant more of a relaxing time for him. Leliana was, at least, _less_ stressed and there were times while they checked out of the beautiful hotel that she wasn’t even looking at her phone. Josie, who always seemed relaxed, was now _excited_. Bouncing on the toes of her Converse, wondering aloud all the things they could do when they got to the other island.

But it also meant that Thom was returning to the UK, his services no longer required for the time being. They’d all asked him to stay, to hang out with them for the duration but he’d insisted he wanted to return home to his wife. Dorian hugged him when they parted ways at the airport, bound for different destinations. He patted Dorian on the back.

‘You’re a good lad,’ said the man who was barely five years older than Dorian. ‘I’ll see you in London. Keep an eye on them for me.’

Then it was goodbye Sardinia. Holding Cullen’s hand while the plane took off, because bless his knee length cotton socks, the man was _not_ good with flying, even though it was the shortest flight of Dorian’s life. Then they were landing in a teeny weeny airport and the excitement hit Dorian fully. 

‘What language do they speak here?’ he asked, while they waited for their luggage to rotate through.

‘French, mostly,’ Leliana answered. ‘Do you speak French?’

‘Uh, not _too_ badly,’ Dorian said, thinking back to his school days. ‘You speak it, yeah?’

‘I _am_ French, so yes.’

With a sheepish smile, Dorian said, ‘Oh, right. So when does your friend arrive?’

‘Today,’ she said, stowing her phone after a quick check. ‘But there’s no point waiting for him, it’s a later flight.’

‘Fair enough. How are we getting to the villa?’

Cullen helped Josie haul her bag off before it went round again. ‘We’re hiring a couple of cars.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘Yes,’ Fenris said, watching the people in the airport, still in _guard_ mode. ‘That way if people want to go off and do their own thing—’

Josie snorted, checking her phone.

‘—then they can.’

‘Rosie’s already there,’ she informed Cullen. The blond smiled brightly, gaze moving immediately to Dorian who could almost feel how excited he was for Dorian to meet his little sister.

And then in a week or so, Dorian might be meeting his _daughter_.

He couldn’t deny he was excited about that too, mostly because it would mean seeing Cullen happy.

There were two cars waiting for them outside the small airport. A pair of great big rugged Jeeps. Fenris drove one and Josie drove the other.

Dorian watched mountains pass in the distance, he took in the sights of a new place, the taste in the air - fresh pine and rock salt - and he shook his head just a little, wondering how his life had evolved to bring him here.

A week ago, he’d been in his loft. His life had been London, no chance for anything else unless he saved up for a bargain basement all-inclusive cheap and cheerful holiday to Spain with Sera and Lana.

Strange, how easy it was to acclimate to change.

But maybe the reason for that was the man beside him in the back of the Jeep, the man who’d declined to sit up front with Fenris. Who just wanted to be near to him.

Who loved him.

Dorian leaned on his arms, resting against the base of the window, letting the warm, fresh air brush over his face and didn’t try to stop himself from smiling as his eyes fell shut.

*

When they came to a huge pair of iron gates and what seemed like a national forest, Dorian wondered if they were going to a zoo or something. Fenris leaned out of the Jeep and pressed his thumb to an intercom system with a keypad and, apparently, fingerprint recognition. It beeped twice and then he entered a code. Josie was driving the other Jeep behind them, Leliana with her. The gates began to open and as they drove through, Dorian really couldn’t help himself.

‘Welcome to Jurassic Park.’

Cullen burst out laughing and Fenris shook his head, surveying them in the rear-view with amusement.

‘Is this a gated community?’ he asked as they drove up a gravel path through a dense woodland of trees that provided shade from the sun above. The smell of pine was mingled pleasantly with tree bark and somewhere in the distance, the sea.

‘This is our property,’ Cullen said, indicating ahead.

For a single, weirdly dizzying minute, Dorian thought he meant ‘ _our_ _’_ as in ‘ _Dorian_ _’s also’_ and he was about to laugh in a weirdly high pitched voice and point out that they _weren_ _’t married yet,_ but then thankfully Fenris went back in time and stopped all that from happening.

‘Yes,’ the other man said quickly. ‘We all have keys and access. Josie uses it alone sometimes, as does Rosalie, though I don’t think Branson has ever come here unless it’s a family thing.’

The edge of Dorian’s cheeks flushed a little bit just from how close it had come to disaster there, thankful for Fenris’s rescue.

Of course, then Cullen added as an afterthought, ‘But we’ll get you a code and install your fingerprint too, obviously.’

_Obviously_.

From the front, Fenris sighed and Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, but Cullen seemed blissfully unaware.

They drove only a minute more before the trees cleared and the first thing Dorian saw was the ocean, but the second thing he saw had his eyes widening.

Dorian knew it would be nice, had known that villas, as a whole, tended be to be quite lovely. He and the girls had looked at them online sometimes, debating whether or not to rent one of the cheaper ones for a week so they had privacy and their own pool, but even the cheap ones had been too expensive.

This could not actually _be_ a villa.

‘Um.’

Cullen smiled, unbuckling his seat belt as Fenris parked up. ‘It’s nice, right?’

_Nice?_

The villa (more like a _mansion_ , Dorian’s brain helpfully supplied) was enormous. From what he could see, there were three storeys; a massive base, a huge terrace and at least four additional rooms above and then, almost impossibly, a kind of _tower_. A great big wide circle that led out onto a smaller balcony that overlooked the ocean. A lot of the walls were darkened one way glass and it was all the height of modernity. Dorian could tell, just from a glance, that the place was very secure.

Cullen got out and Dorian followed, boots meeting crunchy gravel, ocean breeze rustling through the huge trees. There were pine needles in the gravel and Dorian was close enough to hear the waves crashing. 

‘This is yours?’ he asked quietly, taking a second to find his voice.

‘Well, all of ours and the land is Lee’s,’ Cullen pointed out, grabbing bags from the back as the other jeep pulled up beside them. ‘She inherited it from her family. French royalty.’

_‘What_?’

_‘_ Yeah, did she not tell you?’

‘Oh my God, are you telling him that I’m royalty? It’s a _lie_ and I’ll hurt you!’ Lee called out in warning as she swung out of the Jeep. Cullen raised his hands in mock surrender.

As they trudged towards the building, hauling suitcases - one of which was Dorian’s from the sheer amount of stuff they’d picked up along the way - Cullen lowered his voice and said, ‘Ask her about it when Alistair is here. She’ll tell you about it then.’

‘I hear your whispering, Rutherford.’

Dorian couldn’t _quite_ catch his breath, truth be told. A lovely villa, yeah, he’d been expecting that. A _luxury_ villa, absolutely. Big pool, fancy looking, sure.

But this… it made everything real. Cullen had come into his life with two guitars and not much else but this, well fucking _look_ at it.

It had simply never been clearer that Cullen was rich, he was _really_ fucking rich. He was richer than Dorian ever had been.

Dorian had fallen behind a little and when Fenris caught up he asked, ‘You OK?’ under his breath.

‘Yeah, fine,’ Dorian nodded.

‘You need a minute?’

With a strong, steadying breath Dorian got himself together.

‘No,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m good.’

Fenris assessed him. ‘Yeah, you are. Here, help me with this.’ He handed one of Cullen’s guitars to Dorian and they made their way towards the front door.

As they neared the beachfront, Dorian saw it was a small half-moon of rocky outcropping. The waves crashed against the rocks, white and blue waters washing against the sands giving it the impression of a private beach, curved and pretty. Dorian performed a quick scan up and down the length, seeing no one. Was it _actually_ a private beach?

Cullen opened the front door with his thumb print and a code, the same method as the gate.

‘Two seconds is for safe entry,’ Josie said when the door beeped and unlocked loudly, indicating to the fingerprint pad. ‘Five seconds will still open the door, but also send a silent panic alert.’

Dorian nodded, not _quite_ able to take in new information when he was still somewhat astonished by Cullen’s holiday home.

They were barely inside when Cullen called out, ‘Rosie?’

Rosalie Rutherford came dashing out through a door at the end of the lobby. Dorian’s immediate impression of her was that she could have been Cullen’s _twin_. Her brother dropped his bags carefully and she jumped into his arms, the pair hugging tightly.

‘I missed you so much!’ she was saying, squeezing him, eyes tight shut, smile wide. ‘You’ve got no tan at all! More sun for you! Come to Brisbane with me for Christmas!’

Cullen laughed as they parted, still holding hands. ‘We’ve just got here.’

Rosalie shrugged. ‘It’s always good to schedule you in.’

They had the exact same colour hair, the same shaped eyes. Rosalie was taller than both Josie and Leliana, but only by about an inch. She had waist length wavy hair, tanned skin and a tiny delicate nose piercing as well as several in her upper ears. Dorian could see from where she wore a vest top and shorts that she also had a few tattoos.

‘Lee!’ she squealed, pulling the redhead into a hug, then Josie. ‘Oh, you guys, it’s been way too long! I was so _thrilled_ you were coming here, I dropped everything!’

Fenris closed the door behind them, grinning wryly. ‘Dropped _what_?’

Rosalie laughed. ‘Well, all right, I dropped sweet fuck all, but here I am! That counts for something, right?’

‘Restless drifter,’ Fenris sighed.

‘Obsessive hard-ass.’

‘Don’t start you two,’ Cullen chuckled gently, leading his sister over to Dorian. ‘Rosie, this is Dorian.’

It was _so weird_ to have The Dorian Smile levelled at him by someone who was not actually Cullen. 

‘Dorian this is my sister, Rosalie.’

He extended his hand. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

Rosalie was beaming when she took his hand with both of hers. ‘I’ve heard so much about you!’

‘You have?’

‘Of course! He’s been texting me pretty much non-stop,’ she laughed easily.

Dorian wasn’t even surprised that Cullen didn’t seem embarrassed by that.

‘I’ll make tea,’ Josie said slipping artfully away from the enormous lobby that Dorian hadn’t paid attention to yet, too caught up with golden haired Rutherfords and weirdly identical smiles.

‘Dorian,’ Fenris said as Cullen and Rosalie began chatting, catching up and even hugging some more. ‘Let me show you around.’

*

Fenris took him to a guestroom first to deposit his bag. The theme throughout the whole place seemed to be cream, glass and marble, not unlike the hotel they’d stayed at last night but there were personal touches everywhere. Photographs of all of them were the first thing Dorian noticed. Frames of all kinds. Driftwood and seashells, things that could have been made by hand. The pictures showed Cullen, Leliana and Fenris when they were younger.

Dorian stopped dead when he walked past a picture in the hallway that showed Cullen, Rosalie and another young man. Cullen was no older than sixteen, younger probably because his lip was without that scar. Rosalie’s hair was shorter and the boy - Branson, Dorian guessed - was wearing a cap. They were all cuddled together, smiling with what might have been a fairground behind them.

‘Lee took that,’ Fenris said, heading into a room at the end of the upstairs hallway. Dorian looked away from the photo. ‘I was getting burgers at the time.’

‘How old was Cullen?’

‘Hmm, fifteen, I think. Anyway, this is your room,’ he said, opening the curtains. It was a lovely room. Dorian put his bag beside the bed and looked around.

With the light blue curtains drawn back, he could see that the windows were actually glass doors that opened out to a tiny balcony, just big enough to lean on and stare at the sea. The bed was a standard double with a lovely, possibly hand-made throw over the bottom. The wooden floorboards were clean and polished and so far, the whole place smelled of fresh flowers, cool pine and the ocean. It was all the standard furniture for a guest room with a few lovely little touches here and there. There was a rather huge picture on the wall. It was a lighthouse, with waves crashing at the base beneath a vibrant blue sky. Dorian looked closer, realising it had been cross-stitched.

‘Josie makes them,’ Fenris commented as he cracked the doors enough to let a gentle breeze inside. ‘They take years, but every now and then she’ll make a new one and send it here. So, what do you think of Rosie?’

‘She seems lovely,’ Dorian said, wondering if he should unpack his things, 90% of which were new. ‘They look very similar.’

‘Do they? I don’t really notice it anymore. Whenever I see her, she usually has a new tattoo. She’s great, though.’ Fenris was giving him that _look_ and Dorian braced himself.

‘Yeah, go on, what is it?’

‘I just wanted to see how you’re doing.’

‘I’m—’ He’d been about to say fine, automatic response to a question that _usually_ , people didn’t really _want_ the truth of. Dorian took a breath, reminded himself it was good to be honest. ‘I’m a bit overwhelmed.’

Fenris nodded, sitting on the bed, leaving room for Dorian but not requesting anything.

Dorian decided to sit beside him anyway, the bed squeaking a little as he lowered himself onto the thick comfortable mattress.

‘I just—’ he stopped, blowing air between his teeth. ‘Fuck, this sounds so ungrateful, but I’m just a bit… displaced? Yeah, I think that’s the word. This is all just _so much._ _’_ He spoke quietly, wary of his voice carrying through the veritable mansion he was apparently staying in. ‘And I’m loving it, I’m loving every moment of it, but a part of me feels so _awkward_ around all this.’

‘All this?’

Dorian gestured vaguely. ‘Yeah, _this_. This place, the shopping, ten grand for a fucking _tip._ This. This life he leads, you _all_ lead.’

‘That’s valid,’ Fenris said after Dorian had been silent for a beat. ‘But this is a holiday home and we all contributed to it. It was cheap to build here because Lee owns the land.’

‘OK, but you see what I’m saying, right?’

‘I do. You own property in London though, Dorian. It’s not _that_ different. None of us could ever really afford this place if we didn't always pool all our money.’

Dorian looked sharply at Fenris then, couldn’t help it. ‘You _what_?’

‘We’ve always done it. Obviously, we don’t advertise it,’ Fenris answered, hands folded in his lap as he sat beside Dorian. ‘But that’s how it’s always been, ever since we were kids.’

‘What about your parents?’ Dorian blurted out before he remembered that was a potentially sensitive question.

Fenris didn’t seem to mind answering anyway. ‘I never knew mine. Grew up in what might _generously_ be called a care home. Leliana was raised by her Mother, but that’s not my place to tell you about her. Suffice to say we spent a lot of time at Cullen’s house when we were kids. His parents were lovely people. When they died, his older sister along with them, Lee and I moved in to help. Cullen was terrified that Rose and Bran would be taken and split up, so we,’ he paused, laughing and shaking his head. ‘We paid someone from the pub to pretend to be his Aunt whenever social services had an appointment to check on things. We made it work until he was old enough to become their guardian. All three of us got jobs. Made rent, got by just about and did everything we could to look after each other.’

Dorian didn’t really know what to say to that.

‘It’s rare that we even get to come here together,’ Fenris went on, looking around. ‘Maybe twice a year at most. Cullen’s work, all of our work, it’s pretty relentless.’

‘That… hmm, that helps a bit, I suppose.’ Dorian rubbed his eyes and sighed. ‘I keep thinking why would he ever want to come back with me?’

‘To London?’

‘Yeah to London, but to my _life_ too. To living with me in a place one tenth the size of this, making all the dinners, having my friends come round and… and just doing normal shit.’ He exhaled hard. ‘How am I meant to compete with this, Fenris?’

‘You’re not meant to. This isn’t real life, this is a holiday. _You_ and your loft, that’s real, it’s constant. Cullen knows that. He chose it, after all.’

Dorian remained partially unconvinced, but he felt undeniably _better_. ‘I guess.’

‘Do you want a bit of time to wash up or rest?’

‘No, no, I’m good.’

‘You sure? We can talk more, it’s just that I really need to pee.’

Dorian’s jaw dropped. ‘Have you needed to pee this whole time?’

Fenris got up, wincing guiltily. ‘A bit yeah.’

‘Oh my God, _go_ already! Moron.’

*

‘So,’ Josie said, when they drifted downstairs, tour of upstairs complete after Fenris had taken ten fucking seconds to actually _pee_. ‘What do you think?’

Dorian had managed to ground himself, mostly by looking at every single picture on the walls and realising it was either a photo of someone in their life or something stitched by Josie. There were personal touches absolutely everywhere. Though huge and sprawling, over the top and stupidly huge, it was a kind of _home_. It had that feel about it.

‘I love it,’ he said, not bothering to hide how he felt. ‘And the guest room is amazing, thanks.’

Cullen looked up from washing apples, catching Dorian’s eye. ‘Glad you like it.’

The kitchen was humongous. Great, gorgeous open plan thing with a huge black glittering grey marble island in the centre with two sinks, built in dishwasher, wine cooler,

It led right out onto a raised patio with a veranda covered in green, lush foliage and behind it…

‘Is that an infinity pool?’

Fenris sighed. ‘Can somebody please help me convince Dorian that we’re actually really normal people who mostly live normal lives? It’s not going great so far.’

Rosalie, who was cutting apples into slices, waved the knife and said, ‘I live a normal life.’

Leliana inclined her head. Dorian was surprised to see that she’d stripped off into a baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans with sandals. ‘Normal people tend to have post codes, Rosie.’

‘I live a semi-normal life,’ Josie offered. ‘Most of the crazy things that happen to me circulate around the _Bermuda Triangle_ here,’ she added, indicating to Leliana, Fenris and Cullen.

Dorian stepped up to the island, looking for something he could help with. Cullen seemed to understand. ‘Could you de-core the strawberries?’

‘Sure… um, how does one _de-core_ strawberries?’

Leliana showed him using a metal straw. ‘Cullen actually lives a pretty normal life when not working,’ she pointed out. ‘Or he _did_ before whirlwind Dorian.’

Cullen smiled, keeping his focus on the apples he was now skinning while the others laughed.

‘If _anyone_ lives a normal life, it’s me, right?’ Fenris chimed in, putting cream in a bowl and whipping it up with strong arms that had saved Dorian’s life not even a week ago. ‘I live in a one bed flat and I shop in Tesco.’

‘You’re a trained killer, sweetie,’ Lee pointed out.

‘Are you actually, though?’ Dorian asked.

Fenris’s smile was distinctly secretive. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘I’m going to vote for Cullen here,’ Rosalie put in. ‘You’re my big brother and I love you, but you really are pretty boring compared to the others.’

Cullen rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not that _boring_ , come on.’

‘You’re the most normal,’ Josie agreed. ‘If we’re putting jobs aside, you’re the most normal by far.’

‘That’s true,’ Fenris said. Josie put sliced mango and pineapple into a bowl and sprinkled powdered sugar lightly over it. Dorian wondered what in the ever-loving fuck they were making. ‘You’re pretty boring, Cullen, no offence.’

‘I take _full_ offence! How am I boring?’

‘You always want to stay in.’

‘And cook.’

‘And watch movies.’

‘You’re a terrible dancer, too,’ Rosalie added helpfully.

‘OK, there was no need for _that_!’

Josie snickered, ‘You are a bad dancer, though.’

‘I hate dancing.’

‘That’s very evident to anyone who’s ever witnessed it.’

‘Sorry, Cullen,’ Fenris said. ‘But as normal does tend to mean _boring_ , I’m afraid you’re the uncontested winner of the category.’

‘What about me?’

Everyone looked at Dorian.

‘Well, come on, don’t I even get a shot?’ Before anyone could say anything, he pushed on, determinedly wry. ‘I live from payday to payday. Before Cullen, I had microwave meals for one. I only go out when my friends drag me and even then, I sit and brood in the darkest corner getting _sad drunk_. I don’t have a career, don’t really have a hobby. I don’t like music, don’t even go to the cinema. People are out there, living their lives and I just stay inside, trying to get through each day, just hoping I never get recognised. I dread summer, I don’t wear fancy clothes and I don’t exist anywhere on social media, so yeah.’ He pitted another strawberry. ‘If normal means boring, I think it’s safe to say I’ve got you all beat.’

It was a thick and heavy silence that followed his last word and Dorian kind of wanted to punch himself in the face. What had started as playful self-deprecation had taken a darker turn towards the end and now he felt _mortified._ Oh God, why hadn’t he just stayed out of it?

He was about to try and make light of it, swerve the conversation anywhere else when they all burst out laughing, Cullen included. Even Rosalie was laughing a little, back of her hand over her mouth while she ate a slice of apple.

‘Dorian,’ Fenris said, shaking his head. ‘You _literally_ built yourself from scratch when you were sixteen. You had no idea what you were doing and yet, you did it all the same.’

‘You own leather trousers and body glitter.’

‘You swiped one of the most valuable pieces of real estate in London from under the nose of the fucking _Trevelyan_ twins.’

‘You’re the only person I ever met who _already_ knew how to white water raft.’

‘You got attacked in Prague and didn’t vomit.’

‘You know everything about queer culture whereas I didn’t even know who Brian Kinney was.’

‘You make everyone laugh.’

‘And you snore _very_ loudly.’

‘So,’ Cullen finished up, eyes shining with mirth. ‘Hate to break it to you, but that was an atrocious attempt to win a competition you never had a chance in. You’re the least boring person I know.’ He shrugged unrepentantly and dropped a wink before he carried on with the fruit.

Dorian didn’t quite smile, but it was _there_. He got on with helping them, realising they were making fruit kebabs when Josie started skewering everything artfully and finishing it off with mint leaves and lime wedges.

‘What’s the dip?’ he asked, looking over at Rosalie who was adding tablespoons of various ingredients to the whipped cream.

‘Come help me,’ she bade, gesturing excitedly and then when he arrived on the other side of the island, she added in a loud whisper, ‘I’m making them up as I go!’

‘I like the look of the lemon cream,’ Josie said, peering over.

‘Dorian, you make one.’

‘Oh, I uh. I don’t know what to use.’

Rosalie smiled and nudged him. ‘That’s half the fun! Try anything. This one is lavender cream with cracked black pepper.’

‘Go ahead and miss me with that one,’ Fenris drawled.

‘He has no taste for adventure,’ Rosalie said with what was evidently mock disapproval. ‘What do you think? We’ve got a ton of ingredients here. Choose a couple and go crazy!’

‘Preferably without killing anyone,’ Fenris added as he swept past with a tray of juicy fruit kebabs.

‘Right, I see. I might try a spicy chocolate variation.’

‘Oooh, nice! What do you need?’

Dorian didn’t look up, but he knew for a fact that Cullen was watching him and his sister interact, probably loving it.

That probably shouldn’t have made the whole thing even more fun, but Dorian couldn’t bring himself to care that it really, really _did_.

*

They sat on the patio beneath the shade of a honeysuckle veranda, crystal clear water of the pool close by and the ocean near enough to create a blanket of white noise. Behind the pool and a little way away from the main building was a smaller one. Fenris had called it the pool house, but it seemed to Dorian like a charming miniature version of the so-called _villa._

His chili chocolate cream was everyone’s favourite, except for Josie who was somewhat obsessed with tangy lemons. Rosalie stuck close to Dorian and the pair fell into easy conversation. She was one of those people who travelled constantly and was therefore excellent at making conversation with everyone and anyone.

Every now and then Dorian would catch Cullen’s eye and something would hit him, a plunging, twisting _tug_ in his solar plexus. Dorian thought of this time yesterday, of the day before and he knew that something had changed. There had always been a degree of energy between them, a kind of electricity. 

It was different now. It was _charged_. Dorian felt like each time he caught Cullen’s eye, something was building and stacking. It didn’t dissipate when he looked away, didn’t fade at all. It stayed inside, expanding and bleeding into him like pulsing neon adrenaline.

Sometimes Dorian didn’t look away until someone said something, usually with an amused tone of voice because they’d been staring, really truly staring and Cullen didn’t seem to care.

It was probably for the best when the doorbell chimed.

Leliana grinned widely and Fenris rolled his eyes in a high and evident arch, but everyone trailed inside to greet the newest addition.

Dorian hung back a little with Cullen as Leliana opened the door and was immediately set upon by a _shirtless_ man in vibrant Miami style shorts and sunglasses who wasted no time in grabbing her, lifting her high by the waist and then spinning her around like she was a princess.

_‘There’s_ my girl!’ he declared, bringing her down into a bruising kiss that left Dorian’s British sensibilities somewhat scandalised and every other part of him nodding with benign male admiration. Leliana didn’t hesitate to respond. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right back. ‘Oh, you _missed_ me, did you?’ he muttered in between kisses, voice low and husky. ‘Where have you been, gorgeous? Don’t you know— _mmm_ —I’m dead inside—without you?’

Fenris heaved a sigh. ‘Hello Alistair.’

‘Oh, there’s a welcome party! Do you want to give them a show, my bad girl? Shall I get down on my knees for you?’

Leliana only chuckled fondly and shook her head. ‘We can play later,’ she said easily, stroking his cheek when he set her down. ‘For now, come and say hi. The NDA is on the side in the kitchen. Sign it whenever you get a moment.’

‘But of course, my Queen,’ he purred, taking her hand and planting a kiss to it before he whipped off his sunglasses, hanging them expertly on his shorts. Dorian observed his bare toes, visible because the dude had rocked up in _sandals_ , and saw his toenails were painted bright red.

Alistair grinned widely with a row of picture perfect teeth and then he threw his arms wide. ‘ _Fenris!_ Still painfully in love with me, are you? Aching for me, body and soul?’

Josie laughed quietly, hand over her mouth while Fenris remained silent and, Dorian assumed, disapproving. The soft laughter drew Alistair’s attention though. He and Leliana, who were holding hands, approached the others.

‘Josephine Montilyet,’ he said, other hand on his chest. ‘Radiant queen, moon of my _heart_ , how have you been? I heard _all_ about your fling with Vael. He thinks he’s in love! I said to him!’ Alistair raised his hand high, voice rising in tandem. ‘No one can own a Montilyet, especially not someone so bloody _vanilla_!’

‘Alistair,’ Josie said, fondly exasperated. ‘You are, if possible, even more annoying than ever.’

‘Ahh, wonderful. I’m _so_ glad! I worked on it the whole time we were apart. Fenris is just going to _explode_ with how much he hates me any day now and then, finally - epic hate sex!’

‘I could kill you without ever touching you, Alistair.’

‘Baby, stop _flirting_ with me in front of everyone else!’

While Fenris was perhaps mentally counting to ten, Alistair took that moment to yank Cullen into a bear hug. ‘Ahh, big man, come here! Squish me good, you can afford it! Ooh, I love your hair a little bit longer, it’s never a bad look on a man so long as you shave the sides. How’s life? Magnificent, I hope?, But wait, who is _this?’_

Alistair’s smile curved widely. Dorian was both terrified and just a little bit excited to have all that glaring attention on him suddenly. ‘Oh my gosh, he is fucking _delicious_. Lee, _please_ tell me this is someone we’re threeing with?’

Leliana snorted. ‘Hardly.’

Alistair’s eyes filled with something like comprehension and he looked between Cullen and Dorian. ‘ _Oh_! I _see_. Well, I’ll bet that NDA has a few extra clauses in it this time, hmm? Splendid to meet you,’ he said, offering his hand. ‘I’m Alistair, flown in specially for any and all occasions that require an extraordinary lover!’

‘Dorian.’

‘Oh, that rolls nicely on the tongue, doesn’t it? Dorian, _Dorian!_ Love it. And wow… _who_ is this golden beauty? Tattoos and piercings, waist length hair, I could be in love already!’

The youngest Rutherford offered her hand. ‘I’m Rosalie, Cullen’s sister.’

‘Ah, say no more,’ Alistair said, suddenly respectful, if no less flamboyant. ‘Lovely to meet you, sweetheart.’

‘And you.’

‘Well!’ Alistair clapped his hands, making Dorian jump as the strawberry blond turned his attention back to Leliana. ‘Where are we staying, same room as last time? Good, I _love_ the view in there. Are we going out tonight?’ he asked, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Drinks? Dancing? Hmm? C’mon,’ he wheedled in a low, sexy way. ‘Let me show you off, please? Let everyone just _die_ of jealousy because I get to have you and they never will?’

Leliana didn’t seem flustered by the sheer force of the man’s attentions. If anything, it seemed to soothe her. They began to walk collectively back out onto the patio while she deliberated. ‘Perhaps,’ she answered, dropping back into her chair. Alistair pouted but didn’t argue.

‘Shall I go get in the bath and wait for you, then? All slippery and wet for you, my bad girl?’

‘Yes, go freshen up.’

Alistair beamed and planted a great big kiss on her lips before he left. Dorian watched him go, somewhat dazed.

Josie poured sangria. ‘Dorian likes him.’

‘Dorian, our friendship is hanging in the balance here.’

‘Oh come on, he’s eminently likeable,’ Leliana scolded Fenris, accepting the glass of fruity alcohol Josie handed her.

‘I like him,’ Rosalie chimed in. ‘He’s like a one man band, but with sex. It’s funny!’

‘Dorian?’ Josie offered.

‘Uh, no thanks,’ he said, trying not to think about _why_ he didn’t want a drink. ‘And sorry, Fenris, but I do actually kind of like him.’

Fenris scowled. ‘Traitor.’

‘He’s a nice guy,’ Cullen admonished playfully.

From above, Alistair called down, ‘See? You all _adore_ me! I charge extra for orgies, Lee, keep that in mind.’

Leliana laughed, sweet and rather musical. Christ, but she seemed so _relaxed._ Dorian hadn’t seen her like this yet, not once. Her phone wasn’t anywhere in sight, for one thing.

‘Are we going out, then?’ Josie asked excitedly. ‘Oh, I haven’t been _out_ out in so long! Whole _weeks_!’

‘We can do,’ Fenris said. ‘It is a Saturday.’

‘Yes, that’ll be so fun! Josie, you have to dance with me all night!’ Rosalie said, pulling the woman in question into a half hug.

Dorian sipped his orange juice, meeting Cullen’s waiting gaze as if by magic. ‘You’re not working tonight?’

‘Tomorrow night and it’s something we planned ourselves so it doesn’t really feel like work,’ he explained. ‘Or at least not compared to the other nights.’

Dorian was definitely going to have to sack up and actually _ask_ Cullen about what his job entailed one day soon. Sometimes, little things just didn’t quite make sense.

‘Are you going out too?’ he asked Cullen, something warm buzzing in the pit of his stomach.

Everyone went quiet and Cullen blinked. ‘Um, probably not, no,’ he answered slowly. ‘I assumed you wouldn’t want to go because of the—what with all the dancing.’

_And music_.

‘Mmm,’ Dorian agreed with a nod, fiddling with the stem of his glass, heart wrapped tight in something weirdly like _happy-nerves_. ‘We could hang out, maybe.’

Oh, thank fucking God for the waves determinedly providing a symphony of sound in the background because otherwise, Dorian was sure he could have heard a pin drop.

‘Sure,’ Cullen agreed after a beat, determinedly calm and cool, but Dorian didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed. ‘That sounds great.’

‘You two are _staying_ then?’ Fenris said, watching them both with a degree of calculation that Dorian thought was patently unnecessary.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Cullen said, finally dragging his gaze from Dorian, cheeks only a _tiny_ bit flushed. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Definitely,’ Dorian added for no reason whatsoever other than to cement the feeling, the anticipation.

‘Fucking finally,’ Leliana muttered into her sangria glass.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 👀


	16. I Want To Hold The Hand Inside You (I Want To Take The Breath That's True)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lilacia - hope I made it in time, sweetie.  
> Really hoping you all like this one!  
> Beautiful, amazing art by apudpir8  
> 💜💜💜

/>  
[apudpir8](https://apudpir8.tumblr.com/post/627792406521249792/made-some-more-art-for-oonionchivers-fic-ao3)

The others spent the late afternoon getting ready to go out. Alistair wandered around the mansion (it was a _mansion_ and no one would convince Dorian otherwise) in various states of nudity, asking people’s opinion about the clothes Leliana had bought for him. He sought to provoke Fenris more than Dorian thought was generally advisable but despite clearly not _liking_ him, Fenris bore his existence reasonably well. Dorian was fairly sure he knew why, too.

Dorian helped Cullen prep for dinner, watching as the others drifted in and out, Rosalie hanging around the pair of them the most as she’d gotten ready in about ten minutes flat. Jeans, crop top, hint of mascara and her hair hanging around her waist with a few loose, messy braids.

‘This looks so good,’ she said while Cullen pan seared the chicken and poured a dash of white wine over it. ‘Did Cullen tell you he learnt to cook for us?’

Dorian grinned, peeling potatoes. ‘He did, actually. Said he felt bad about all the chicken nuggets.’

‘Did he also tell you he was terrible at first?’

Cullen sighed, though he didn’t seem actually put out. ‘Here it comes.’

‘He did _not_ tell me that, but by all means, feel free to regale me about his early failures.’

It was adorable, the charming back and forth between brother and sister. Rosalie teasing Cullen and him not putting up an ounce of fight against it. Dorian knew it was mostly for _his_ benefit, that this was Rosalie’s way of introducing him into the family. Old stories, nostalgia and good natured ribbing. Sometimes one of the others would drift in, adding to the tales before they left, continuing to get ready. Rosalie sat on the countertop, her jackboots banging gently against the cupboard doors.

‘And that’s why we had to paint the kitchen a very dark grey!’

‘Oh my God, how bad were the scorch marks?’

‘All the way up to the ceiling. To be fair, once he nailed the recipe, it was pretty well worth it.’

Dorian looked over at Cullen who was still cooking, maybe showing off a little now as if to prove that he _could_ cook without setting the kitchen on fire. The majority of their dinner was already done. Neither one of them talked about how they were making dinner obscenely early, even by _Normal Peopl_ e standards. It was barely six by the time Cullen plated everything up - _chicken Francese_ with dauphinoise potatoes and a full range of grilled Mediterranean style vegetables with butter-cream sauce on the side - and put it all in the oven to keep it warm for later.

Later.

The unknowable land of _later_.

Alistair waltzed in wearing incredibly low slung black jeans and a bright red t-shirt that had the bottom hem cut off to reveal his midriff. His hair was roughed up with wax and had a cute sort of _quiff_ at the front. Unless Dorian was _very_ much mistaken, he’d also painted his fingernails glittery black.

‘Oh my God, what is that heavenly smell?’ he enquired eagerly, blowing on his fingernails and proving Dorian entirely right. ‘Is that for us?’

‘Nope,’ Cullen said, slinging a dishcloth over his shoulder and closing the oven door with a decisive snap. ‘ _You_ lot can get a kebab or something after you’re done making idiots of yourselves on the dance floor.’

‘Lee, your superstar is being _mean_ to me!’ Alistair called behind him in a petulant, false whine. ‘I want his delicious goods!’

‘Well, you’re not having them,’ Cullen denied primly.

Alistair leaned on the counter, eyes on Cullen, something distinctly playful about him. ‘At least let me lick the bowl.’

Cullen rolled his eyes, half smirking. ‘In the immortal words of Fenris, go fuck yourself, Alistair.’

‘Why would I ever need to do that when I could just get _Fenris_ to do it for me?’ he yelled pointedly in the direction of the stairs, smiling widely when Fenris let out a rattling sigh of disgust from wherever he was. ‘He adores me, that man.’

‘Stop baiting him all the time and he might.’

Alistair examined his nails and grinned in an undeniably goofy way. ‘But I’m a _master_ baiter.’

‘What you are,’ Cullen said, opening a bottle of wine. ‘Is a dork.’

_‘Sexy_ dork,’ Alistair corrected.

Rosalie giggled and watched their interactions from her vantage point on the countertop. ‘Do you two know each other through Lee, then?’

Alistair beamed. ‘Oh, let me tell it!’

‘Not a chance, you’ll exaggerate the story beyond all recognition.’

‘I _won_ _’t_ , I’ll tell the whole truth and nothing but. Let me tell it, please?’

Cullen gave a pained sigh like a parent capitulating to a child. ‘Bloody hell, stick to how it actually _happened_ , though.’

Dorian grinned and drifted over to stand beside Rosalie as Alistair faced them both.

‘So,’ he began, gesturing vividly. ‘I get this _client_ and it’s a date to an _event_. No sex, just going out with someone while hanging on their arm. More common than you’d think in my line of work. I get dressed up, obviously. Look radiant and stunning and then I wait at the bar where we’re meeting.’

‘I hate this story,’ Cullen said miserably.

Alistair grinned all the wider. ‘My _notes_ on the client were scant save that he was a P.O.I and that he was, quote, “ _A Bit Shy._ _”_ ’

Dorian could instantly see where the story was leading. ‘What’s a P.O.I?’

‘Person of Importance. It’s a whole deal with non-disclosure agreements and such, again - more common than you’d think. So, I’m at the bar, I’m fighting off suitors, dozens of them and I’m waiting for the big guy to show up, _Cullen Rutherford,_ who’s hired me out for the evening.’

Cullen glared dully at the ceiling. ‘Lee organised it _without_ my knowledge, I did not hire you.’

‘Shush with your petty technicalities! _So_ , finally he rocks up with the other two in tow, of course and…’ Alistair started laughing. ‘Lee introduces us but he’s clocked right away what’s happening and so he goes bright red—’

‘I did _not_.’

‘—starts stammering.’

‘Absolutely untrue.’

‘—and drops his drink on my shoes.’

Cullen sighed. ‘That part is sadly accurate.’

‘All over my shoes and not just any shoes, we’re talking _Testoni_ _’s_ here! I take them off because they need to be washed and dried immediately and this stunning red head, this woman unlike anything I’d ever seen comes with me to that bathroom while the big man here stays behind with his bodyguard, crying into an empty martini glass.’

‘ _Definitely_ not true.’

‘In the bathroom, Lee is helping me clean the shoes and we introduce ourselves, we start _talking_.’ Alistair touched his chest and sighed longingly. ‘Anyway, the upshot is that my shoes were ruined, Cullen paid for new ones and Lee stole me for herself.’

Rosalie said, ‘I can’t believe he wrecked your shoes. Cullen, why are you such a doofus?’

‘In my _defence_ , it was a very _full_ martini glass and he tends to wave his hands a lot when he talks. Well done for telling an _almost_ accurate version of the story there, Alistair.’

‘The better version has sex in it, but,’ Alistair shrugged. ‘Polite company and all that.’

‘You can tell us the sex version,’ Rosalie said, nodding earnestly while Dorian bit down on a smile.

Alistair went to speak but Cullen cut across him. ‘No sex version, please.’

‘Such a prude,’ Alistair sighed, turning to lean on the countertop opposite Cullen. ‘Pour me a glass, will you?’

‘So, Lee’s hired you ever since?’

Cullen poured the wine and Alistair shrugged. ‘On and off, yeah.’ He tilted his head in thought, eyes dancing when he looked back at Rosalie. ‘I like her a lot.’

‘How’s work been?’ Cullen asked, passing him the glass.

Alistair shrugged. ‘Steady. Lot of requests from politicians lately which, _bleugh_ , have you seen the state of the world? I’ve had to turn down so much extra money. Morality really will bankrupt me one day.’

‘Staying safe though?’

‘Yeah, more or less,’ Alistair said. Some of his brightness had dimmed, his voice took on a lower, flatter quality. ‘It’s better working with a firm than going alone. Safer, despite the downsides.’

Despite his instinctive dislike of the word, Dorian asked, ‘What are the downsides?’

‘Money, mainly. They take a huge percentage, but I suppose you have to weigh the pros and the cons. Do I want to have less money and be alive or do I want to die having been briefly rich?’

Cullen wore an adorable dent between his eyes that Dorian recognised as concern.

‘You know she’d keep you on as staff,’ he said quietly.

‘I know,’ Alistair replied, frowning. ‘She’s offered a dozen times, but come on, that’s not realistic. I like what I do and I’m good at it. Besides,’ he added, looking down, his voice much more natural than it had been thus far. ‘She’d probably get bored of me being around twenty four seven.’

Rosalie hopped down off the countertop to take a glass of wine that Cullen had poured for her and Dorian followed, though he didn’t want any wine for the time being.

‘Alistair,’ Cullen said kindly. ‘Believe me, no one could ever get bored of you.’

Alistair nodded to himself and then brightened. ‘What about you, though? I caught the live-stream, very _rustic_! Josie’s idea, was it?’

‘Dorian’s, actually.’

Alistair smiled at Dorian, all four of them standing around the island. ‘Ahh, I like it. Very good, nice touch. Connecting with the people and all.’

Dorian supposed they were Facebook friends and that Alistair had seen whatever Josie had sent out. God, he hated Facebook.

‘So, Dorian,’ Alistair said. ‘Do you like Cullen’s music?’

‘I do, yes,’ Dorian answered with very minimal discomfort. The kind of pain that was more a sense memory than anything else.

‘That’s cool. It’s not really my thing, truth be told. I prefer the remixes.’

‘Remixes?’

‘Yeah, something more upbeat, y’know?’

‘You like club music, then?’

‘Of _course_! Few people in this world dance better than me.’

‘Bullshit,’ Rosalie grinned over the rim of her glass. ‘Cullen can sing, but I can throw shapes unlike anything you’ve ever seen.’

‘Oh, is that a challenge, Miss Rutherford? It’s been a while since I’ve met a true contender.’

‘Which means you’re probably rusty,’ she teased.

‘Dorian, you can dance, right?’

Dorian blinked. ‘Um, I mean not right now.’

‘No, but you _can_ dance?’

Rosalie snorted. ‘Unlike my brother.’

‘I can dance well enough, yes,’ Dorian said, hesitant in the extreme.

‘Excellent, then tomorrow you can judge a dance contest for us!’

Fenris walked past the kitchen and muttered, ‘Dear God.’

Alistair ignored him, warming to his theme. ‘Yes, we’ll have a proper dance off and you can judge it! Oh wait, no, _shit_. You’re the one I’m not meant to talk about music with, fuck!’

Ah, there it was. Dorian smirked, couldn’t help it, even as Alistair’s entire face screwed up, fluently cursing himself.

‘Shit, I’m sorry. I got all carried away.’

‘It’s no problem.’

‘No, I-I really didn’t mean to—’

‘Alistair,’ Dorian said firmly, clapping the man’s shoulder. ‘I promise, you can talk about music OK? I appreciate that you were briefed or whatever, but honestly, it’s all good.’

Dorian was rather proud that a solid fifty percent of his reassurances were _true_. He could feel the other two watching, could _always_ feel Cullen’s gaze, but he held himself together well.

Imagine that.

‘I really _am_ sorry,’ he said again. ‘And of course we won’t do anything silly like have a dance off.’

‘I think we should,’ Rosalie said, looking at Cullen and then Dorian. ‘We can do it silent disco style. Wear headphones, listen to the music ourselves.’

‘Oh my God, that’ll look ridiculous,’ Cullen grimaced, even as he laughed.

‘Yes, _but_ you’ll be able to see who has the best moves,’ Rosalie countered. ‘Which is obviously going to be me.’

Alistair still had the air of a wounded puppy.

‘Please don’t hate me,’ he said quietly to Dorian. ‘I really did just forget.’

‘You can make it up to me by dancing your heart out while wearing headphones,’ Dorian assured him. ‘Because that will absolutely look ridiculous and I am here for it.’

Alistair pulled Dorian gently into a one armed hug which Dorian returned, if slightly bemused by it. ‘Cullen, he’s wonderful. Please keep him.’

Dorian and Cullen’s eyes met like lightning, that flash of _something_ between them igniting in a split second. Cullen swallowed and looked carefully down at his wine, nodding. Dorian had the impression he didn’t trust himself to speak.

When they parted, Cullen and Alistair fell into a strangely relaxed conversation about politics which left Dorian feeling a bit like a kid at the adult table. He was relieved when Rosalie gestured for him to follow her to the sink.

‘I meant to ask about your cast,’ she said, rinsing her wine glass off under the jet of white bubbly water.

Dorian looked down at the monstrosity. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said grimly. ‘Fractured my thumb on someone’s face.’

‘I didn’t know if you’d noticed,’ she went on kindly. ‘But the cast is ah, kind of ruined.’

He laughed, holding it up. A yucky mess of muddy brown, of faded red lipstick and black marker pen, swollen and even torn in places. ‘I definitely noticed.’

‘No, I mean, it’s not functioning as a cast anymore,’ she pointed out. ‘Can I?’

Dorian nodded, holding his arm out to her. She touched it gently, pushing a finger down into the crease of his palm. ‘Yeah, it’s way too loose,’ she said decisively. ‘I trained as a nurse, not an expert by any means, but I can tell you that’s not been holding anything together for days now, at least.’ She let go of the cast and added, ‘You can take it off, is what I’m saying.’

‘Oh, but the doctor said two weeks.’

‘They tend to be overly cautious with thumbs. If it’s been like that for more than two days and you’ve not been in pain, you don’t need it. I bet you can move your thumb a bit, right?’

Cautiously, Dorian did so, wiggling it back and forth very slowly, ample room to do so due to how swollen and loose the cast had become. There was a kind of bittersweet ache, but no real pain.

Dorian frowned warily. ‘And you’re a nurse?’

Rosalie pushed her hair back. ‘Well, two terms, _but_ ,’ she added quickly. ‘I’ve been around loads of people with broken fingers. Trust me, you can take it off. Even if it wasn’t healed, you’d need to take it off because it’s not doing much besides collecting mess.’

Dorian wholeheartedly agreed with that.

‘And if you want, I’ve got a wrist support thing in my first aid kit. Much lighter, easy to take off and,’ she added, smiling down at the grotesque monstrosity. ‘Less like a prop from _The Hills Have Eyes._ _’_

‘Hmm, OK then,’ he said after a moment of consideration. He wiggled his thumb a few more times, finding minimal discomfort. ‘How do I get it off?’

‘Well, it’s not fiberglass,’ she said. ‘So we can just cut it away, layer by layer.’

‘Won’t that take ages?’

‘I think we’ve got some time before the girls are ready and besides,’ she added warmly, lowering her voice. ‘Better to have an extra hand for your night in, eh?’

‘Rosalie Regan Rutherford, _what_ are you discussing over there with Dorian?’ Cullen called out, voice both oddly melodic and suspicious as he peered over at his baby sister.

‘Oh my God,’ Dorian chuckled. ‘Your middle name’s _not_ Regan.’

Rosalie scowled at her brother. ‘OK, firstly how dare you whip out the middle name? Secondly, we’re discussing his _cast_ , so chill out and thirdly, you’re really one to talk, Cullen _Stanton_ Rutherford.’

Dorian’s chuckle turned to a full on snort, covering his mouth to contain it. ‘Oh, wow.’

‘ _Stanton_ , really?’ Alistair sympathised, shaking his head. ‘You’re lucky you’re pretty, big guy.’

‘Our parents had a strange idea of what constituted decent middle names.’

‘Branson’s is _Bryan_.’

Alistair let out a yelp of laughter. ‘No, it’s _not_ , tell me it’s not! Oh my God, that’s unfortunate.’

Rosalie shook her head, taking out a pair of very sharp scissors from the drawer and assessing where to start with Dorian’s cast. ‘Mia’s was _Madison,_ _’_ Rosalie said as Cullen looked over and they shared a kind of sad smile. Dorian’s humour turned bittersweet, helpless but to _feel_ for them both, for the loss of an older sister as well as parents. They’d both been so young when their family had been torn apart, when Cullen had been forced to step up and look after the others, Fenris and Leliana going so far as to _move in_ with him.

‘What happened to the pattern of alliteration with you?’ Alistair enquired curiously. ‘Rosalie Regan, Branson Bryan, Mia Madison and there’s you, odd one out. Cullen _Stanton._ _’_

‘They were going to call me Sam. Had it all planned out, but they changed their minds at the last second.’

‘And when they got to the registry to name him,’ Rosalie added, finding a loose piece of the cast and lining up the scissors. ‘They liked _Stanton_ so much they couldn’t bear to part with it.’

Cullen sighed. ‘Imagine that.’

‘It’s kind of stuffy, isn’t it?’ Alistair teased, pouring himself more wine. ‘Like fourth tier royalty.’

‘That’s a generous way of putting it.’

‘OK, I’m going to start,’ Rosalie informed Dorian. ‘Just want to be sure you’re ready?’

Dorian looked down at his hand, wiggled his thumb a few times, surveyed the frankly gross state of the cast. It was _sort of_ protecting his injury but not actually _doing_ anything for it, not really.

Huh, there was a metaphor in there somewhere.

‘I’m ready.’

*

Alistair peered at Dorian’s freshly freed wrist with interest. ‘That’s yucky.’

‘Does it feel all right?’ Cullen asked for about the fifteenth time. ‘Rosie, have you got the wrist support?’

‘No,’ she sighed dryly, disposing of the bundled layers of muddy brown wrappings while Dorian ran his fingers along the sensitive and somewhat dirty skin of his wrist. ‘I made it all up, Cullen. It was a plot, a devious scheme to leave Dorian with an unsupported hand. Gaze upon my success, years in the making.’

‘There’s no need for _that_ amount of snark, I’m only asking.’

‘You’ve asked a million times! I trained as a nurse!’

‘For four and a half months.’

‘Four and a half months more than _you_.’

‘How does it feel?’ Alistair asked while Dorian gingerly washed it under the kitchen tap with soap.

‘It feels OK, actually,’ he said, still surprised despite what Rosalie had said _and_ despite the fact that he’d sat there and allowed her to take the mangy cast off. ‘Yeah, I can move it no problem.’

Rosalie beamed. ‘I’ll go get the wrist support before Cullen has an aneurysm.’

‘I wasn’t—’ but she was gone in a flash of golden hair and leather ankle boots, taking the stairs three at a time judging by the racket. Cullen frowned and looked at Dorian’s wrist. ‘Can I see it?’

‘Oh, sure,’ Dorian said, holding it out while Alistair smirked unashamedly. Cullen took it very gently, running his fingers up and down Dorian’s tendons and then moving onto the thumb itself. There was faded bruising around the base. What had once probably been dark and gruesome shades of reddish black had ebbed to a far less startling light green and brown, like an apple exposed to air.

‘You’re certain it feels fine? Because I can have someone flown in.’

‘What happened to convincing me you’re all _normal?_ ’

Cullen didn’t take his eyes off of Dorian’s wrist. ‘Not when it comes to you.’

Alistair’s eyebrows shot up and he hid his smile in the wine glass, but Cullen didn’t seem to notice even if Dorian definitely did.

‘Any discomfort, just say so.’

‘Of course I will, it’s my _thumb_. An evolutionary wonder,’ Dorian chortled. ‘I’m hardly going to suffer in silence and risk losing the use of it.’

Cullen pressed a brief kiss to the base of his palm before he released it, turning away. ‘Well, all right then.’

Rosalie was back with a dark blue wrist support before Dorian could say or do anything more than share a look with Alistair. The other man’s eyebrows had vanished into his hairline, features arranged delicately in a _Not Smirk_ , but his amusement was palpable.

*

There was a whole lot of innuendo at the door, mingled with hugs and kisses, bidding each other a good night. Josie and Leliana were simply stunning; high heels and dangly earrings, outfits to die for and makeup that would shame real life celebrities. Rosalie looked like something from a 90’s MTV music video. Fenris wore a white t-shirt with a black blazer and had his hair lightly slicked back, giving him a ridiculously sexy air born of simplicity.

‘We’ll be out late,’ Josie was saying, clearly unable to contain her excitement about what they were leaving behind as well as where they were headed. ‘So don’t wait up!’

‘Oh yes, they’ll just be sitting by the door, counting the hours until we return,’ Leliana snorted under her breath, Alistair standing behind her, both arms about her waist. ‘ _Anyway_ , have a good night.’

Rosalie and Cullen hugged tightly. Dorian half expected Cullen to say something to Fenris about watching out for her, but Cullen just told her to have fun.

Dorian got hugs from everyone, including Alistair, whose hug consisted of squeezing Dorian and lifting him slightly.

‘Take him apart good and proper,’ Alistair murmured against Dorian’s ear before he set him down and whirled around to Cullen with outstretched arms and a dazzling grin. ‘Have a great night, big guy!’

Dorian supposed it could have been worse by comparison. He _could_ have been on the receiving end of the exaggerated, smacking kiss Cullen got.

When they were gone, Cullen wiped his mouth and shook his head. ‘And you thought _your_ friends were bad?’

‘My friends would be instant soul mates with Alistair. They’d trade me for him in a heartbeat.’

As they walked away from the front door, Dorian heard the jeep rolling away over gravel. 

It was very suddenly just the two of them.

‘So,’ Cullen said, heading into the kitchen. Dorian followed, watching him busy himself with things that didn’t need doing. ‘What do you want to do? More Netflix? Or we could watch a film, maybe?’

‘That sounds fun,’ Dorian agreed, looking down at his newly freed hand. ‘But do you know what I really want to do?’

Cullen didn’t look at him, but he smiled all the same.

‘I do know.’

‘Prove it.’

‘You want to go in the pool.’

‘Ah, very good.’

‘Now that your cast is off, you can swim properly.’

Dorian ran his fingers over his wrist, over his thumb, nodding. ‘Yeah, and seeing as how that’s just about the best pool I’ve ever seen, I really want to swim in it with you.’

Slowly, Cullen lifted his gaze from where it had been fixed on the countertop. ‘With me?’

‘With you.’

*

Dorian got changed faster than he ever had in his whole life, shucking out of his new clothes and ripping through the still unpacked suitcase to find the swim trunks that Josie had so cleverly picked out for him. He checked his phone quickly, putting it on charge by the bed and sent off a standard message to the girls letting them know he was _busy_ and not to try and call him for anything less than an emergency. He didn't look at the replies, but knew vaguely what they would contain. Hearty encouragements and eggplant emoji’s.

In his room with the door pushed almost all the way shut, he had to take a few deep, steadying breaths and lean on the wall for a moment. 

Blood was rushing to his head, blood was rushing fucking _everywhere_ and he felt like a teenager. Like a crazy, reckless teenager about to do something monumentally stupid or impossibly wonderful, maybe even both. Cullen was getting changed in his room just down the hall and the blind proximity in this state felt suddenly intoxicating.

Cullen’s room was _not_ the massive great circular solar atop the mansion like Dorian had expected. Apparently that was Leliana’s, which made a certain amount of sense given that she was the one who occasionally had a partner when they retreated here and also, given that she owned the land.

Fenris had only pointed to Cullen’s room on the tour and the door had been closed so Dorian still had yet to see the inside of it, to see how it was decorated, to see the little things that made it _Cullen_ _’s_.

Dorian let his forehead rest against the wall, palms braced there too, willing his heart to calm. He did his best to identify the source of the feeling.

More than anything, he knew he was afraid of taking _this_ for granted, of taking Cullen for granted. Despite what he’d said the other night, despite everything between them, he didn’t want to misstep. That fear was a real, solid thing.

It would also be wonderful if his _dick_ could calm the fuck down, thanks very much. Nothing said _Taking This All For Granted_ more than a raging hard on under his brand new trunks, did it? Christ.

But it wasn't going down, nothing was _calming_. The more he thought about what Cullen was doing, what his room might smell like, what the other man could have been feeling at that very moment… the less _anything_ wanted to chill, including his heart, currently smashing against his ribs. He thought of every single time they’d touched, each instance of contact. He let himself remember the feel of Cullen beneath him while applying body glitter, knowing that it wasn’t _really_ the kind of thing friends did, but unable to stop because there had been something between them, almost right away.

Firm muscles and chest hair, hot skin and the feel of Cullen’s heart pounding, actually _pounding_ beneath his hand.

Dorian let out a tiny moan, seriously doubting his ability to rally any measure of bodily control when he was in such a state.

The cold water of the pool was all he had to fall back on, his saviour, such as it were. Hurriedly he yanked on the trunks, awkwardly tucking himself in and then peered around the door, scanning the upper levels for Cullen.

Thankfully, the other man was nowhere around. Dorian crept from his room, completely bare except for the dark blue swimming trunks which weren’t doing _anything_ to conceal what was happening beneath them. He hurried down the floating staircase, listening out for Cullen but he was apparently taking his sweet time getting changed too.

Out through the kitchen, Dorian grabbed a glass of wine as he walked, taking a deep swig before he set it down on the patio table outside. The sky was pink and purple, sun descending beneath a few dark gold clouds. Dorian didn’t spare a moment to appreciate the scene, even as it reflected brightly over the pool, obscuring all but the shimmering, glaring surface.

He quickly sat on the side, legs dipping into the soothingly cool waters and then lowering himself in without pause. It was colder than he’d expected for a heated pool, but that _could_ have been the sheer heat in his blood, of course. It felt instantly soothing, made him feel invisible and protected.

He’d no sooner let out a relieved sigh than Cullen popped up from beneath the surface, taking about six years off his life.

‘Fucking hell _!_ _’_

_‘_ Oh, you’re here,’ Cullen beamed, wiping wet curls from his eyes. ‘I was waiting for you.’

Dorian was instantly furious with himself for allowing his subconscious to think that Cullen was some sort of _sea creature_ and therefore scaring the shit out of him.

_‘_ Waiting for me _underwater_?’

Cullen shrugged, panting as his chest rose and fell rapidly. ‘I was seeing how long I could hold my breath.’ His smile turned teasing. ‘Did I scare you, then?’

Dorian blushed. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Didn’t you see me when you got in?’

‘Well, I was in a hurry and the water is all—all _glary_ from the sunset!’

Cullen tried to temper his amusement and patently failed. ‘Did you think I was a shark?’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

‘A scary shark who lives in swimming pools?’

‘The sea is right _there_ ,’ Dorian argued weakly. ‘It’s not _impossible_ that a—’

‘That a shark jumped eighty feet out of the ocean and into this pool, just hoping that you’d get in without checking first?’

Dorian huffed, ‘No really, go fuck yourself.’

‘How about I stay here and _protect_ you from sky vaulting sharks? Will that make up for it?’

‘Have you ever _seen_ a shark? I’ve seen sharks. I’ve seen two in the distance, out in the water with their _fins_ and I’ve seen one up close in an aquarium. They’re terrifying, OK? It may not be a rational fear, but it’s a legitimate one and you can go ahead and thank Steven fucking Spielberg for making it so that anytime I’m near the sea, all I hear is that stupid _theme_ in my head.’

Dorian’s diatribe was losing some of its heat, nerves steadying enough to take in what he was actually _seeing._

Water running all down Cullen’s chest, his face, his stomach. He was wet, _dripping_ wet and… oh dear, he _did_ have a V. A deep one. Dorian would have to report back to Lana about that. In the shallow end of the massive infinity pool, Dorian could see everything about him, all the details he had memorised from their encounters, from zooming in on various aspects of the pictures he’d taken. Everything he already knew made glistening and inviting, bare and shiny.

Almost _glittering_.

‘Sharks are generally very tranquil,’ Cullen commented smoothly as they began to move down into deeper waters, side by side until Dorian had to tread water to stay afloat. At this point in the pool, they were close enough to the edge that he could _see_ the ocean from there, felt almost like he was in it.

They turned to face one another, the sun dipping gradually as pink became lilac and lilac ventured into darker shades that heralded night.

‘OK, well that doesn’t mean I want to swim with one.’

‘Fenris has done that. In the cage, you know?’

‘I bet he has.’

‘Said it was a great rush.’

‘I’d be terrified.’

‘I mean,’ Cullen laughed softly. ‘I believe that after what I just saw.’

Dorian made an indignant face and splashed him. Cullen splashed him back. The water on his previously dry face was cold and it had his throat closing for a moment, tightening before it levelled out.

Dorian dipped beneath the water fully, wanting his whole body to adjust. It was only a second but it only _took_ a second for him to level out, for his body to accept that he was in cool waters now. His skin was soothed, pulsing heartbeat slowing to reasonably normal levels once more. He felt _relaxed_ , left hand no longer encumbered by a great, sodden mass of crusty bandages and lipstick smears. He wiped his eyes and fixed Cullen with an affectionate glare.

‘I can’t believe you were holding your breath under the water like some kind of _weirdo_.’

Cullen grinned and looked around. ‘Maybe I got a bit carried away. I haven’t been in a pool in ages. You know, I used to be able to hold it for nearly two minutes.’

_‘Bull_ shit.’

‘I could!’

‘That’s insane, no one can do that.’

‘I just about managed eighty seconds before you got in.’

Part of Dorian wanted to demand that Cullen prove it, playful as he felt then, but he also didn’t want Cullen to be gone, even if it was just for a minute or two.

‘It’s an amazing pool,’ he went with instead, leaning on the spill over edge, watching the last traces of the sun sink below the skyline, the ocean washing in and out. He watched great, gleaming waves and all that energy, all that movement, both soothed by and drawn to it.

‘When things are stressful,’ Cullen said, tone low and relaxed. ‘I try and count the days until I can come back here. I’d stay here forever if I could.’

Dorian rested his cheek on his forearm. ‘Why don’t you?’

Cullen didn’t answer right away, the only sounds around them were the waves of the sea and the water of the pool as it gently licked against the edges.

‘I love what I do,’ Cullen said eventually. ‘I’m lucky to be _able_ to do what I love, even if it’s stressful.’

‘I wish I had a career.’

‘What do you like about the idea?’

Dorian sighed, moving his legs languidly through the water, staring at the sunset. ‘I think I’d just like to have some kind of _purpose_. Something I earned, a place near the top of a game that I chose. Some reason to be better, to push myself. I’ve never really felt that. When I was disinherited, everything was about survival. Learning to exist, to pay council tax, to survive on sixty quid a week and make it stretch. When I got good at that, when it levelled out, everything was about _fun_. Making friends, partying, hooking up. It was great.’

Dorian hesitated, waiting to see if Cullen would speak, if he had anything to say but there was only the sound of lapping water, only the ocean as it rolled in and out, so he went on.

‘Then I met _him_ , relocated my whole life to the road. Always moving, _always_ some new disaster to be dealt with. I got good at that too.’ Dorian’s inhale trembled slightly. ‘He needed so much, demanded everything of me and I gave all I had. It sounds so stupid, but it _felt_ like my job. Like I was so accomplished that I could be his boyfriend _and_ help in ways that no one else could. Every day was reactionary. Something new to deal with, something to overcome. It took all my time, all my focus and then…’ Dorian gave a small, broken laugh. Cullen moved slowly to join him at the edge of the spill, but he wasn’t close enough to touch. Just _there_ , nearby.

‘Then suddenly I’ve got all the time in the world again. Bottom of the wrung, barely any friends left and this time, there’s like… like a fracture running through me. A crack. And for a long time, this crack feels like if anyone pushes it, then all of me will shatter and break.’ Dorian closed his eyes. ‘I didn’t want to break, so I just focused on protecting myself. Wrapping myself in cotton wool, kind of. Avoiding music, avoiding the reminders of how it felt to have a whole album written with the sole purpose of destroying me. I just told myself to survive and some days that took everything I had, just that. I don’t think I told you, but there was a day when I took pills and I uh.’ He exhaled roughly, gripping the sides a bit tighter. ‘I tried to kill myself. Lana found me and—and y’know, I was fine. Stomach pumped and everything, I was fine.’ He rushed past it, knowing there was no way he could have even _said_ it while looking at Cullen. This way, it was almost like confessing to the sea.

‘I was doing all right. Surviving, day by day, but then I started to want more than that. A month or so before I met you, I began thinking what was I actually going to _do_ with my life? I don’t know who I am now. I don’t know what I can do that’s better than anyone. I look at you and Fenris and Lee, at Thom and Josie. Bloody hell, even _Alistair_ is top of his game. Maybe I should feel jealous, but I don’t. It just makes me want to be better.’ Dorian took a deep breath. ‘You and the others make me feel hopeful. Yeah, that’s what it is.’

_And hope is a dangerous thing,_ he did not say.

The need to apologise for rambling was powerful. It burned inside him, pushing aggressively for him to make a joke, to put himself down and apologise to Cullen because the man had asked a single question and gotten Dorian’s whole sad-sack sob story as an answer.

Instead of doing that, he slowly looked away from the ocean. Cullen was there a small distance away, arms on the side, mirroring Dorian. It was hard to tell in such light; the sun setting, glowy spotlights from the sides of the pool not doing a whole hell of a lot to give insight into how Cullen was feeling after hearing all that.

Cullen so often radiated neutrality that Dorian decided not to debase himself and apologise for something that, against all his instincts, he thought he didn’t have to apologise for. Instead, he trusted that Cullen was fine just _listening_ to him.

Maybe being honest didn’t always require an addendum.

‘This is so nice,’ he said, pushing away from the side and revelling in the supple, cool feel of the water as he swam slowly, looking up at the first signs of stars, all that pink having melted into a cool, inky purple.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Cullen agreed, though the way he said it made Dorian think he might not have been looking at the sky.

‘You didn’t want to go clubbing with the others then?’

‘Not really, no.’

Righting himself, treading water because it was still too deep where they were to even brush his toes along the bottom, Dorian grinned and said, ‘Because you’re a terrible dancer?’

Cullen splashed him and when Dorian splashed back, it quickly escalated into a splashing _fight_. Great lashings of water thrown at one another, making messy art in the heat of battle and Dorian swam away as Cullen advanced, headed for the safety of the shallows and the steps.

Cullen followed, but Dorian was faster, natural talent for swimming coming out when necessity called for it, even though they were just playing.

_Playing_.

Dorian’s heart pounded hard enough to hurt when he reached the steps. He sat on the lower few, water up to his chest as Cullen surfaced, shaking hair from his eyes. He’d never really noticed that Cullen’s hair was _long_ at the top, longer than it had any right to be really, and so curly.

Dorian settled back on the steps, catching his breath, body pleasantly cool from the water, although his cock had truly decided it was never returning to any state of normality until something happened with Cullen.

_Something_.

Cullen didn’t grab him, didn’t do anything beyond splash him a final time, much gentler then as he settled into the water. It was a strange backstep; like he’d realised that, however accidentally, he’d _cornered_ Dorian and sought to remedy it. ‘You’re a fast swimmer.’

Dorian’s pulse thumped in the base of his throat. ‘I guess so.’

Breathless and wet, they stared and they waited.

The moment was hanging on a kind of _edge_. Both of them were aware of it, Dorian was sure. Cullen’s distance was still sufficient for it to be friendly and provide space, provide distance to make a choice. Dorian had to remind himself that while he’d come to some kind of private conclusion about his feelings, he hadn’t yet told _Cullen_ that.

For all Cullen knew, Dorian had stayed behind with him for a _We Need To Talk_ kind of chat.

He found that he didn’t want distance or space anymore, was _sick_ of being alone, even if alone meant being safe.

He lifted his left hand, clad with only a thin wrist support now. ‘Come here.’

It never failed to strike him right in the core when Cullen did it, did what he asked without hesitation. Dorian’s hand was outstretched, palm facing upward, dripping. Cullen took it, moved into his space and Dorian could feel the warmth of his body, though they were barely touching. He felt the fucking _heat_ radiating from his core, from his chest.

‘You gave me time,’ he said as Cullen’s thighs brushed Dorian’s knees. ‘I’m grateful for it.’

Cullen half blinked, pool water spilling over his eyelashes in a strange reversal of tears. His focus on Dorian was absolute, but again, there was that sense of familiar restraint. Idly, Dorian wondered what it might feel like to experience the full throttle of that intensity, undiluted, _un_ restrained.

‘Of course.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, you know? I can't think of anyone, not a single person I’ve known all my life. Isn’t that strange?’

Cullen’s attention was rapt, gaze drifting down every few seconds to Dorian’s mouth as it moved and shaped words. Dorian slipped his other hand into Cullen’s and began to _push_ instead of pulling now, keeping them close, maintaining the proximity as he walked them out into deeper waters once more. The sun was almost completely gone, the night hovering on the edge of remaining rays.

‘And it hasn’t actually been that much time,’ Dorian mused in a low voice. ‘I realise that. A day and a half since you told me that you…’

Still holding hands, they slowed when they came to the curve of the pool, the last place they could stand in the water before it became too deep and demanded they swim.

‘That I was in love with you?’

‘Yes,’ Dorian said, corners of his mouth quirking nervously. ‘That.’

He lowered their joined hands into the water, loosening one to bring up to Cullen’s face, daring to rest there against his cheek. Cullen moved into the touch unconsciously, a world of smooth inky darkness and pale crystalline blue all around them.

It felt like the centre of the world, cut off and removed from time. Dorian’s whole body was on the verge of a sensory overdrive, each and every time the water lapped against his skin sending tiny frissons of pleasure down his spine. He was cool and yet hot at the same time and the excitement, this slowly swelling thing inside him, it was _magnificent._

Because although he was nervous, he didn’t have to be afraid.

‘So,’ he went on, voice thick as Cullen’s back gently hit the sides, a silver ladder beside him. ‘I just wanted to check.’

‘Check what?’

‘That you’re… still in love with me?’

Brow lifting, hint of a smile about his lips, Cullen closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I’m still in love with you, Dorian.’

God, it felt like a _touch_ , a caress deep within the interior of his very being. Dorian moved closer, their thighs brushing, feet touching, chests almost meeting but not quite.

‘Say it again.’

Cullen’s eyes opened, dark irises swallowing the golden brown, blown wide with what seemed to be a rather torrential mixture of everything Dorian was feeling and then some.

‘I’m in love with you.’

When their bodies were flush, Cullen touched Dorian’s hips, gently resting his hands there. It was all still very _restrained_. Dorian could feel the force of how much Cullen was controlling himself.

It wasn’t the _amount_ of control, it wasn’t the _heat_ of the emotions behind it either.

No, what tipped Dorian over the edge was the fact that Cullen _wanted_ to control himself because the first move was Dorian’s in this arena and they both knew it. It was safety, it was _security_ and it meant all the power was Dorian’s.

And God, Dorian had never wanted anything so much. The desire had him dizzy, had him fucking _gasping_ and on the verge of keening because he had _wanted_ this for what felt like forever. An attraction that ran too deep, a riptide of _longing_ that had been denied over and over.

Cullen was fucking beautiful and every single part of Dorian wanted him.

Dorian pushed his fingers into Cullen’s wet curls, gaze raking over his features.

‘I thought about it,’ he whispered, his nose brushing Cullen’s, they were that close. ‘There wasn’t much to think about, when I searched myself.’

Cullen’s restraint never faltered. ‘We don’t need to do anything.’

Slowly, Dorian nodded. ‘Yeah, I know that. Nothing needs to happen, there’s no… hmm.’ He paused, gently raking his fingernails over Cullen’s scalp, drawing out a shudder from the other man. ‘No obligation. I don’t need to do this, but… I _want_ to do this.’

They were touching almost everywhere now, pressing like mirror images; symmetry and sensation, point of contact _everywhere_ but where mattered the most. The furthest either could go before they fell into irreversible territory.

Inch by incremental inch, Dorian began to move into Cullen. They were already close, so moving into him meant pressing, it meant _leaning_ in and feeling each other in a way that could never, ever be platonic. It was slow and agonising. There were better ways, Dorian knew. A sudden kiss, a thing born of spontaneity and surprise. Grab Cullen, yank him into a kiss when he least expected it. That might have been better. 

But Dorian didn’t need to blindside Cullen or himself. He was very much present in the moment. In the approach, in the tingling sensation of nervous excitement, the kind that knew no dread because one thing was very certain - Cullen would never hurt Dorian.

And Dorian believed it, wholeheartedly.

Slowly, Cullen caressed Dorian’s back, arms crossing and bringing them that much tighter together. It could have been a hug, in some weird, alternate universe. Dorian could have turned it into a hug at the very last second. Wrap his arms around Cullen, tell him he loved him as a friend and Cullen… he would not be angry about that, Dorian just knew it.

But that time was long past. Dorian couldn’t even _stomach_ the idea of telling Cullen that this was all they would ever be.

Dizzy from the blood flooding through his veins, from the rapid rhythm of his heart and the sheer force of his emotions, Dorian leaned in that last inch, eyes fluttering shut and pressed his lips to Cullen’s.

It was a simple, small thing; closed lips to closed lips. Never had Dorian kissed a man so chastely. Cullen was still, he was _patient_ and it drove Dorian a bit wild, wanting that patience to stretch and eventually _snap_. When he drew back, he felt Cullen’s rapid breaths brushing over his lips, feather light and ticklish.

Cullen had him in his arms and he stared at Dorian like he’d hung the fucking _moon._ So much adoration there that it was almost painful to behold.

So much fucking love it looked painful to bear.

Dorian kissed him again, pressing harder that time but no less slow. He angled the kiss, turned enough that his lips parted to catch the faint taste of chlorine and Cullen himself. Of wine and skin and lovely mouth that bore a scar, that smiled for Dorian in a special way.

It was heady and it had Dorian’s mind spinning. A small kiss, just a little thing really, but the centre of his core felt like it was decompressing, crushed by the weight of something truly fucking momentous.

Cullen moaned faintly and his arms tightened around Dorian’s back, lifting him slightly. The move dragged Dorian’s thighs against Cullen’s, hardness rubbing against its counterpart and Dorian fought to control the urge to _grind_ there and then, seek primal friction as the heat at the base of his spine dictated.

Instead, he tangled further into Cullen’s hair, controlling the angle of the kiss so that he could deepen it. When Cullen’s lips parted, Dorian swiped his tongue and Cullen’s control came under siege.

When he moaned that time, there was nothing soft about it and Dorian delighted that he was vocal, resolved to draw out all manner of wonderful sounds because they were the kind of things he could get addicted to. As the kiss deepened, Cullen’s tongue curling against Dorian’s own, Dorian found that he was moving against Cullen without even having realised it. A rhythmic kind of _up and down_ against him, the curve of his cock revelling in what contact it could gain from such movement.

Cullen’s palm roamed over his back and Dorian touched whatever was in reach. All that lovely skin, all those muscles. Cullen was picture perfect and even better to touch. Dorian never wanted to be parted from him, could not imagine life without Cullen’s chest pressed against his, tongue in his mouth, sharing sounds of increasing need.

‘Fuck,’ he muttered, his restraint dissolving by the second. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long.’

Cullen huffed a strange, broken kind of laugh, one hand travelling to the regions of Dorian’s lower back and the other moving up between his shoulder blades, holding him _closer_ though it really wasn’t possible. ‘You have no idea.’

Dorian bit his bottom lip, eyes moving between Cullen’s as the world narrowed and contracted even more. ‘Show me.’

The kiss came harder that time, desperation driving them to clash just slightly.

And see, Dorian _had_ wanted to do this slow, he really had. He’d had ideas and visions of just making out with Cullen at first. Of slow kisses and careful, sweat-slicked explorations, of taking their time.

But those had been mere ideas, daydreams. Pleasing imaginings while he taken himself in hand and stared at pictures of Cullen.

This was real.

Cullen’s heart smashing against his own was real. The taste of him, the feel of him everywhere. Hard, insistent cock against his own and all that need, all the attraction that had been kept at bay was at boiling point, bubbling and expanding, demanding release. Dorian was alive with it, thrumming with the energy that built and built, nowhere to go but into one another.

So when the kiss came harder, Dorian welcomed it. Met desperation with thunderous desire, with shaking _need_ to have more, to feel more.

_More Cullen._

He explored the wet expanse of pale, perfect skin and well defined muscles. Pushed through silky, sparse chest hair, fingertips brushing nipples and eliciting the most beautiful, broken little noises that sent twisting bliss down into Dorian’s abdomen. He wanted those noises, wanted _words_ , a fucking symphony of desire from Cullen’s lips, all his to swallow down and conduct.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he panted into Cullen’s mouth, hands braced on his shoulders as one leg came to curl around Cullen’s upper thigh. ‘Do you know how hard it’s been, not touching you?’

Cullen made a deep, strangled kind of noise and brought Dorian back to his mouth for a kiss that _burned_ , that marked like a fucking brand. It was all tongues; wild and messy. Open mouthed kisses and sloppy, wet groans as they fumbled, neither knowing where to touch, what to do beyond _touch_ , beyond _hold_. Driven by blind desire and half drunk on each other, Dorian was about to push down past the lining of Cullen’s trunks but stopped himself in time, something deep within him grinding everything else to a halt.

‘Wait, just… just one second,’ he panted, their faces close enough that Cullen’s lips brushed his own even as he spoke. He dug his fingers into the meat of Cullen’s shoulders, forcing himself to slow and wait, not to move any further past this point without checking first.

Cullen’s brow creased up. ‘Wh-what is it? You want to stop? We can stop, it’s fine.’

Dorian groaned and rested his forehead against Cullen’s. ‘No, you moron. I need to make sure that _this_ ,’ he gasped, running his palms over Cullen’s shoulders, up his neck to cradle his face and plant smaller, shaky kisses there. ‘is what you want.’

Cullen’s hand slid into his hair, his gaze burning with intensity, belied in his low tone. ‘Dorian, I’m _literally_ so in love with you I can’t think straight and yet somehow, I’m the moron?’

Dorian laughed and kissed him again, smiling against his mouth and Cullen returned it, but the pace was measured, purposely so.

‘To be very clear then,’ he murmured between kisses. ‘This is… what you… want?’

‘I want you,’ Cullen said, utterly clear and true. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything like I want you.’

Dorian closed his eyes, rubbing their noses together, left hand travelling down, careful not to nudge his thumb too abruptly. He still wore the wrist support, but it was thin and allowed for plenty of movement. His palm moved over the bulge he found there beneath Cullen’s trunks, grinding enough to draw a breathy moan from Cullen that caught and shattered in his throat when Dorian ran the flat of his tongue up the side of his neck.

‘I want you too.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, fuck. I’ve wanted you right from the start. You’re so beautiful, so fucking _brilliant_ , how could I not want you?’

Cullen keened, eyes screwing tight even as he arched slightly into Dorian’s palm, seeking friction and the _grind_ that Dorian knew felt good. ‘God, please.’

He was holding Dorian under the upper thighs now, making Dorian taller than him, leaning down to kiss and tease while he rubbed his palm up and down in an aching rhythm that would bring him close, but not where he needed to be.

It was over the material of his trunks and Dorian wanted it under, he wanted them skin to skin and nothing between.

Cullen was slowly coming apart and Dorian was making it happen, had all the power, all the control. There was a part of him that wanted to slow things down on purpose, bring everything to a halt, just because he knew Cullen wouldn’t be angry, would not resent him. There was something positively _dizzying_ about that. A degree of mastery and trust that had eluded him all his life.

He might have pursued it, had he the strength.

_Another time_ , he promised himself, barely capable of rational thought as Cullen pushed beneath the fabric of his trunks, gliding down over Dorian’s arse cheeks, caressing and massaging. Everything was sweet and heady and too much, way too much to bear but Dorian bore it because he’d never felt anything _like_ it.

‘So good for me,’ Dorian muttered and then swallowed all the lovely noises Cullen made in response to the praise, throaty keens and moans, all for Dorian. It wasn’t _enough_ anymore, touching him with a layer of _anything_ between them, so he pushed Cullen’s trunks down around his thighs, freeing everything that he couldn’t quite make out because the water obscured it. He wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around what he found, thick and long, burning hot despite the cool water and Cullen made an almost pained sound, squeezing the rounded flesh of Dorian’s pert arse in return.

This time, when they kissed, it was anything but slow, all traces of that languid exploration long gone. Pulsating _need_ was driving them both to distraction, making Dorian’s movements clumsy, making him fucking _crazy_ because this was more than he deserved and yet nowhere near _enough_ still.

He wanted more, he wanted everything, he wanted a bed and he wanted to be filled with Cullen, to have zero barriers between them.

‘Can we—?’

Cullen nodded like he’d read his mind, moving them towards the ladder. Dorian hurried out, nearly slipped but Cullen was right behind him, keeping him safe. The air was cool and the night was total, all sources of light emanating from the spotlights and the rainbow lanterns strung above the veranda nearby. Cullen wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist as soon as he was out of the water.

It was a messy kiss by that point, deep and heedless of finesse, no room for insecurity.

‘Pick me up,’ Dorian panted, glorying in the feel of Cullen bending to grab him under the thighs and lifting him easily, fucking _easily_ even though he was a full grown man of not insubstantial weight. Cullen picked him up and Dorian wrapped himself around him, legs locking at the ankles, arms around his neck and the kiss turned positively obscene because Cullen was so fucking warm and hard and strong. Christ, but Dorian was _drunk_ on him.

Cullen walked them over to the pool house, careful not to drop Dorian or to ever stop kissing him. If Dorian had ever had plans to take this slowly, to restrain himself, they vanished the second Cullen got the door to the pool house open after a solid ten seconds of fiddling with the thumb scanner and the door code.

He barely paid attention to the inside of the place - a miniature house unto itself, a kind of _den_ comprising of a huge round sofa, massive TV on the wall, fridge and a few other things that made it a doubtlessly wonderful place to hang out _-_ because all his attention was on Cullen and he was helpless but to follow the demands of his heart, of the smashing rhythm within, dictated by need and anchored by something else he was not yet brave enough to name.

Cullen shut the door and Dorian was all over him. Wet, deep kisses and awkward fumbling to shove dripping wet trunks down, free him of that last piece of _something_ between them while Cullen mirrored his movements. Dorian kicked the trunks away when they were around his ankles and brought their bodies together, tangling fingers in Cullen’s hair, lips slanting for the kind of kiss that had him positively trembling. A feeling so warm, so like molten gold, dripped down his spine, pooling in his lower stomach.

Cullen’s right hand, rough and slightly calloused, took hold of Dorian’s cock and his own, holding them together while Dorian rutted with abandon, a stuttering groan shaking loose from his lungs because it felt _so fucking good_ and he was not going to last, no he was _not_.

‘Want to taste you,’ Cullen panted and before Dorian could gurgle a response, he turned them, swivelled their positions and pushed Dorian’s back against the door, fingers splayed wide over his abdomen to _keep_ him there as he dropped to his knees.

Dropped to his fucking knees.

‘Oh God, oh _God_ , fuck, fuck, fuck!’

Cullen’s clever fingers wrapped around the base of Dorian’s length, holding it there while in the near total darkness, he dragged a rough stripe from root to tip with his tongue. Dorian’s back arched, eyes rolling slightly, hands sinking into damp curls as Cullen’s lips closed around the head, tongue swirling, sucking lightly.

All manner of filth was tumbling from Dorian’s lips as Cullen began to suck him then, making a proper mess, practically fucking _worshipping_ it. Dorian was undeniably surprised that Cullen was _good_ at it, the kind of skill that only came with practise. He took Dorian down into his throat, warm and tight, and sucked him harder.

Dorian’s fingers pulled at Cullen’s hair, couldn’t help it, thighs trembling. He was going to come, _fuck,_ but he was going to come so hard in the mouth of a man who was in love with him, who let him paint him with body glitter, whose eyes went _glassy_ when Dorian praised him, who—

Cullen made a deep sound that resonated and vibrated around Dorian’s cock, head sinking deep into his relaxed throat and Dorian fucking _lost_ it.

He cried out, head falling heavily against the door as his whole body arched. It hit like a wave; crested and built and then absolutely _smashed_ into him. Colour exploded behind his eyes, orgasm so deep and overdue that it was near _agony_ as he spilled himself down Cullen’s throat.

Euphoria rocked over him again and _again_ as Cullen took him deep, sucked every last droplet from him and kept moving his plush, pretty lips over his cock even as it became unbearable, overly sensitive and sated as he was.

When he opened his eyes, they had adjusted to the dark enough to see Cullen’s face staring at him as his cock slid out of his mouth. Cullen’s gaze was hooded, every intake of breath was laboured. Dorian cupped his face, rubbed his thumb over his lower lip, dark and swollen from his efforts.

‘Fucking look at you,’ Dorian panted roughly, unaware he was even speaking until he heard it. ‘Just _look_ at you, God. How did it taste?’

Cullen stroked the sides of Dorian’s thighs, pressing a sweet, final kiss to the tip of his cock which had no intention of relaxing, was still standing to attention, hard and needy.

‘You taste delicious,’ Cullen said in a low whisper, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. ‘Did it feel good?’

‘Did it—Cullen, you’ll be the _ruin_ of me.’

Dorian moved to his knees also, needing to kiss him, rebelling at the distance between them. He was shaking all over, still caught in the afterglow of his orgasm, but he knew he needed more, so much more. Their mouths met like they were meant for it, slotting perfectly, grabbing at each other with purpose and intent. To be _closer_ , to be inside one another, to shed skin and simply be _one_.

Rational thought was hard to come by but Dorian heard himself say, ‘I want to make you come.’ Cullen’s breath caught and broke, cracking like a pretty glass. ‘Do you want…? Is that—?’

Cullen surged up, taking his mouth in another kiss, this time with a desperation that spoke volumes of that exquisitely strange _feeling_ between them. Desperation that bordered on madness.

Dorian crawled into Cullen’s lap, the other man sat back on his haunches. His overly sensitive cock brushed Cullen’s again, eliciting a shudder. Damp skin and heaving chests, sweat beading because it was _hot_ in the pool house and Dorian’s heart was pounding, was fucking hammering beneath his ribs, his blood hot and fluid like molten desire.

Cullen sounded like he was delirious almost when he broke the kiss and ground himself against Dorian. ‘Want you. Want _you,_ Dorian _,_ more than anything.’

_Want._ The word Dorian struggled with, the word that did not come naturally, it was everywhere around him then. Soaked into the atmosphere, in every look, every touch. Dorian felt uncomfortable in his own skin, needed Cullen inside him unlike anything he’d ever felt before. A craving that transcended all else, that became sheer, unadulterated need.

He needed Cullen and he _wanted_ him.

Cullen who wanted him back.

Cullen who fucking _loved him._

It was all backwards and it was impossibly _strange._ Dorian simply wasn’t used to it, had never been exposed to this level of trust, this kind of safety. Free to be himself, to be however and _whoever_ he wanted. A beautiful, elongated trust fall that he never wanted to end.

‘I want you too.’

‘We don’t need to, though,’ Cullen assured him, which _might_ have been less distracting had his eyes not been half eclipsed by his pupils. ‘If you’re… then I’m fine to—’

‘Shut _up_ ,’ Dorian said, pressing trembling fingers to his lips. ‘Shut up and let me make you feel good, you beautiful, ridiculous person.’

Cullen smiled when Dorian kissed him again. He could feel it against his lips, the shape of that _smile_ , the one he reserved only for Dorian. It was heartrendingly lovely and it really shouldn’t have driven Dorian all the wilder, determined to break him apart with pleasure.

He took them in hand, gripping both cocks and shallowly fucking his against Cullen’s. His orgasm not mere _minutes_ ago had apparently done fuck all but take the edge off. His body wanted more, demanded _more_. It had not waited all this time (weeks) for this to be _it_.

It wasn’t enough, not anywhere near the full, magnificent catalogue of things he wanted to _do_ to Cullen, with Cullen. He had so many ideas, so many hidden desires stored away, but Cullen was practically hyperventilating under his touch and Dorian knew how badly he wanted to come.

_Still_.

Languidly, tongue tracing Cullen’s bottom lip as if licking chocolate from it, he murmured, ‘Do you want to come, darling?’

Cullen made a high, velvety kind of _whine_ , gripping Dorian harder, fingers digging into the skin of his back deep enough to bruise. He nodded, clearly unable to speak.

‘Can you hold off for me?’

The whine turned to a keen, breaking at the end as Dorian sped up the pace, his own member not especially close just then because despite all it’s proud, hard glory it had been _literal_ minutes.

‘Eyes on me, beautiful.’

Glassy, golden eyes found Dorian’s and the fucking tidal wave of _emotion_ there knocked Dorian for six, it really did. Cullen had always been emotive, always been expressive and tactile, unnaturally _unguarded_ for someone who’d been mentally smacked around as he had. He’d always been emotional, but this…

Dorian felt it like a punch to the gut, felt _winded_ by it.

‘Let me see it all,’ he heard himself say, caught in the strange _thing_ again, same as whenever he took Cullen’s picture, whenever he positioned him and _painted_ him up with glitter, told him where to look and how to move. ‘You’re perfect, God, what did I ever do to deserve this?’

Every single part of Cullen was locked up, utterly rigid. Muscles tight, tendons in his neck taut and his jaw clenched hard as Dorian brought him closer and closer to an edge he wasn’t _strictly_ allowed to fall off of yet. Dorian simply was not sure who was enjoying it more.

He curled his other arm around Cullen’s neck, lips brushing the shell of his ear. ‘I’m going to make you see _stars_ , darling.’

Cullen sobbed, fingers in Dorian’s sides almost painful now but he barely felt it, was too lost in the feeling, drowning in the back and forth, the _energy_ between them. He had _never_ been able to do this, never found anyone remotely compatible and sex had been fun, sure it had, but this…

There had never been anything like this.

Dorian slowed and Cullen started saying his name over and over, prayer like and just as devout, though maybe God would be jealous to hear Dorian’s name spoken in such a way, so much fucking _feeling_ in each of the three syllables. Too much feeling, too much of everything.

He wasn’t sure how Cullen had not come yet. Dorian let his own cock fall away and focused completely on Cullen, obsessed as he was. He moved closer into Cullen’s lap until he was straddling him, licking into his mouth for yet another kiss. He could have kissed him forever.

‘I can feel you holding yourself at bay for me.’

Every single sound that escaped Cullen’s lips was for Dorian. Every groan, every sob, it was all for _Dorian_ and he swallowed it down, kept it for himself. 

He was lost to it, to the feeling.

Lost to Cullen.

‘You’re doing so good, aren’t you?’

It had _never_ felt like this with anyone else when Cullen lifted his gaze to Dorian, perfectly exposed and utterly true when he blinked tears down his face, biting his bottom lip hard and nodded.

‘Yes,’ Dorian said swiftly, something jolting inside him to see Cullen _acknowledge it_. Oh God, that was addictive as fuck. ‘You’re so good for me, so fucking _lovely,_ I can hardly stand it. Fuck, feel what you do to me.’

When he lifted Cullen’s hand, he put it to his chest, not his cock and really, that should have been some indication of how deeply _in trouble_ Dorian was, of how far out to sea he’d drifted, but he simply did not care.

‘Please,’ Cullen bit out, forehead to Dorian’s, clinging to him with one hand, the other pressed to Dorian’s heart.

‘What do you want, darling? Tell me. I want to hear you say it, want to take care of you like you take care of me.’

Through numb lips, the words almost slurred, Cullen said, ‘Make me come, _please_.’

Dorian had never stopped moving, only the pace had changed. The tip of that perfect cock was steadily leaking pre-come, oozing slick and making everything that much easier as he slowly jacked Cullen then, swiping his thumb over the head on every other upstroke.

And distantly, Dorian fucking _marvelled_ that Cullen could hold off this long, could restrain himself just because Dorian had asked for it.

It was fragile and beautiful, the power he’d handed Dorian and in those moments, in that deep well of intensity and pure focus on one another, Dorian felt like he would die to protect it. Wanted to cradle and treasure the _trust_ that Cullen freely gave, felt impossibly honoured by it.

He sped up the pace, pushing close to the edge bit by bit, leaning in to take Cullen’s lower lip gently between his teeth, right hand all tangled in sweaty curls.

Cullen was making noises near constantly, bittersweet little sounds as he held nothing back of what Dorian was making him feel. Every inhale was ragged and pleading, desperate and yet wholly _willing_. Dorian couldn’t help but agree; it _did_ feel like magic.

‘Come for me, Cullen,’ he spoke against his lips and Cullen’s entire body experienced a kind of _push._ His back arched and it was like a switch had been flipped. It was soundless and primal, his head falling back, mouth lax and open as Dorian _wished_ he could see more, drink in every incremental shift in his expression, see his face fully as he came, but he took solace in hoping ( _trusting_ ) that there would be other times. Cullen came hard, cock pulsing under Dorian’s hand, spilling warm, sticky fluids all over his fingers.

Dorian worked him through it, spreading the slickness and pumping every last particle of bliss from Cullen, kissing him again when Cullen could breathe, when at last he took a great whooshing intake of oxygen again, slowly coming down.

Cullen held Dorian’s face as they kissed, shaking all over. It was deep and slow, like how they’d started back in the pool, but it was overwrought too. So much between them was overwrought, painfully intense and unflinching.

But no part of it asked more than Dorian wanted to give.

That was new.

It was new to kiss someone and feel entirely, impossibly content. To bask in their gratification as if it was his own.

‘Fuck,’ Cullen exhaled roughly against Dorian’s lips and Dorian couldn’t help but laugh, pressing smaller kisses all over his face, arms slipping around his back. ‘Fucking _God_ , that was… was so good, so fucking _good_.’

Dorian didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t cleave his chest wide, leave him exposed and open the way Cullen didn’t seem to mind so he just smiled and kissed him some more.

*

Dorian wasn’t even _playfully_ scornful that the pool house had air-con, just grateful. Cullen padded naked to the wall, turning on soft, low lighting, dropping the blinds and turning on the TV, volume low in the background.

Dorian then dragged himself over to the massive, ridiculously huge sofa and burrowed beneath blankets that Cullen handed him, naked and hidden from the world.

‘You want a drink?’ Cullen offered, voice low and somewhat tremulous still, like the force of his pulse was affecting it in the hollow of his throat.

‘God, yes please.’

Cullen returned to the veritable _nest_ of blankets Dorian was making, still unashamedly naked. In his arms, he had four canned drinks and a bunch of highly unhealthy snacks _._

Dorian grinned, taking the offerings and setting them between his legs, opening the blankets to invite Cullen in. ‘What about dinner?’

Cullen shrugged, slipping in beside Dorian. ‘The night’s still young.’

It didn’t _feel_ young. Dorian felt as if it should have somehow been morning, like he’d aged an entire month of nights. But when he glanced over at a clock sat beside a salt lamp, he saw that barely an hour had passed.

An _hour_.

They still had the whole night.

And possibly quite a bit of time beyond that.

Dorian had zero finesse when he greedily glugged half a _7UP,_ throat simply parched from all that panting.

‘Come hide with me,’ he said, dragging the blankets over Cullen.

Cullen grinned. ‘OK.’

It was almost _childish_ , how playful Dorian felt then. He wanted to go _beneath_ the covers, make a fort, stockpile goods and sneak into the mansion for extra things now and then, but otherwise stay there with Cullen, hidden from the world.

Well, all right, maybe there was no _almost_ about it.

‘Ah, _Titanic_ is on!’

‘No, can’t watch it,’ Cullen said, nicking the remote from Dorian.

‘What? Why not? It’s a great film!’

‘Unless you want to see me _ugly cry,_ we’re not watching it. This is one of my _Can_ _’t Ever Watch Again_ films.’

‘Which bit does you in?’ Dorian asked, ripping into a Snickers with wild abandon. ‘ _There_ _’s a boat, Jack?’_

Something in Cullen’s expression softened slightly and Dorian waited patiently for him to explain. ‘No. Well, I mean, yeah that bit too, but overall it’s the … the whole thing of people being separated.

Dorian couldn’t be certain, but he thought he understood quite quickly which _bit_ Cullen was talking about. He’d seen that movie a thousand times and knew it back to front.

‘Hmm,’ he nodded, _not_ commenting but fairly sure it was the part with the father bidding farewell to his daughters, telling them he’d see them soon. Dorian had never really focused on that, too caught up with the fraught love between Rose and Jack, had never needed to think about _children_ in that scenario. It must have hit pretty different for Cullen.

Christ, that film was _really_ fucking depressing when he thought about it.

‘OK,’ he said briskly, trying to shake off the masterful melancholia of James Cameron’s greatest hit (fuck you, _Avatar_ ) and flicked through the channels. ‘You choose, darling.’

It slipped out, entirely unintentional that time. Cullen took the remote from him - either not _noticing_ or not caring to comment on the endearment - and shifted so he could lay his head in Dorian’s lap.

Dorian played with his hair idly, couldn’t help himself. It felt natural, like they’d done this exact thing a hundred times before, like it was familiar.

Dorian tried not to think too much about how natural it _all_ felt. He watched Cullen scan through what the cable TV had to offer, which was a genuinely impressive array, though he found nothing he liked and ended up leaving it on a documentary about space, narrated by someone with a pleasant, deep voice.

‘Mmm, that feels nice,’ Cullen sighed, pushing under Dorian’s thighs to hug them as if he was an especially comfortable pillow. Dorian added another hand, moving them through blond curls with sole purpose to make the man on his lap feel fucking amazing. He was barely listening to the narrator ( _possibly_ Benedict, judging by the baritone) telling them all about the marvels of cosmology, far more enraptured with the man in his lap.

Cullen’s cheek lay against his blanket clad thigh, nuzzling it every now and then as if to remind himself by way of sensation that he was with Dorian.

Dorian already knew, without having to dredge his memory bank, that no one had ever laid with him like this after a carnal foray. This feeling of bubbling excitement, of fizzing anticipation in his lower abdomen just to spend _time_ with Cullen like this… that was brand fucking new.

He felt like a teenager, like everything laid out before them glittered with possibilities, with the unblemished gloss of optimism.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy being with someone,’ Cullen said quietly and Dorian’s heart gave a painful upward lurch because it was like he’d _said_ what Dorian was _feeling_. He kept right on stroking his hair, unsure of what to say aside from something deeply _stupid_ like, ‘ _yeah, me too._ _’_

But Cullen had been open and honest and Dorian was, occasionally, prone to stupidity.

‘Yeah, me too.’

Cullen rolled over enough to look up at Dorian, face half in shadows from the glare of the TV. ‘Really?’

Dorian couldn’t bring himself to style it out. He pushed the curls back from his forehead, staring down with a fondness that bordered on outright, ridiculous levels of affection. ‘Really.’

Cullen gently bit his bottom lip and trailed his fingertips down Dorian’s face. The touch was featherlight and it set Dorian’s skin singing, shooting sensations running rampant from that one point of contact. His body politely reminded him that it would not be averse to more sex, to all the sex in the world, actually. That strange, bone-deep level of contentment within Dorian’s core nodded calmly in agreement.

Dorian wondered what to say, wondered if they should _talk_ about it. Cullen waited, letting the decision sit with Dorian and while he waited, he trailed his fingers down Dorian’s neck, his shoulders and all the way down his arms. The sensation was heightened, affected Dorian more than it should have, given that it was barely a touch, the lightest brush of fingertips. Maybe because it was _Cullen_ who was touching him.

‘You’re happy,’ he said, throat somewhat thick. ‘And I’m happy.’

Cullen nodded slowly, turning towards Dorian’s wrist and pressing a reverent kiss to the pulse point.

‘I am.’

Dorian watched it happen, that achingly simple kiss that resonated within him as anything but chaste. He tried to temper the feelings it evoked in himself and didn’t even care when he failed spectacularly.

He shifted, moved himself down towards Cullen with as much grace as possible as he slipped his thighs out from beneath the other man. He needed to kiss him, suddenly could not bear life without Cullen’s mouth against his. Cullen met him eagerly, pushing up on one elbow.

It was a messy slip-slide of chocolate and sugary drinks, of heated moans and fingers in hair, hands moving over naked skin, eager to drink in the feel of one another. Before he knew what was happening, Dorian was laying on top of Cullen, grinding together like a pair of flint stones trying to strike a spark.

Dorian had never felt this _unabashed_ with anyone. Where was the self-conscious worry? The need to check in every few seconds and make sure he was doing it right?

The blankets fell away when Cullen rolled them over, moving himself on top and caging Dorian beneath strong arms, kissing him deeply and nudging a thigh between Dorian’s legs.

‘God, you’re so amazing,’ he uttered, trailing kisses all down Dorian’s neck, dragging his teeth gently over the place where shoulder met neck. ‘You’ve no idea what you do to me. Wanted you since I first saw you, Dorian.’

‘What about when I put—ahhh, fuck—when I covered you in body glitter?’

Cullen’s body was plastered against him, hips dragging a tortuously slow rhythm as he rubbed his cock against Dorian’s, kissing him everywhere. He groaned into Dorian’s neck and huffed a laugh. ‘Christ, I thought I was going to come in my pants when you did that.’

Dorian pulled on his hair to lift his face, gentle tug that elicited a full body shudder from the man above him. ‘You did?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me.’

Cullen’s mouth curved again. ‘I fucking love it when you’re pushy.’

‘I want to hear,’ Dorian panted, wrapping his legs around Cullen’s waist. ‘How you felt when I did that to you.’

The smile turned into something else, morphed into intensity driven focus and Cullen ground himself against Dorian, the friction so fucking good that Dorian arched off the sofa, eyes rolling back. ‘When you glittered me up with your hands?’

‘Yeah, tell me.’

Cullen kissed him, palm sliding over the planes of Dorian’s abdomen, wrapping his cock in a perfect, strong grip, thumb gliding up and down the vein on the underside. ‘It felt like this.’

‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.’

‘Mmm, but now imagine you need to stay calm,’ he said, nipping the edge of Dorian’s jaw. ‘Imagine you need to stay _upright,_ to laugh and joke and make a decent attempt to seem normal.’

The weight of his body above Dorian was so fucking perfect, made him feel _safe_ which probably shouldn’t have been sexy, but it really was. He bit his lip and did what he could to minimalize his reactions, but it was _hard_. Cullen was dragging pleasure from him with every single movement, each thrust tightening and coiling something hot and sweet in Dorian’s belly.

‘Imagine you had to pretend it wasn’t affecting you,’ Cullen said, voice like cut fucking glass and he held his lips just above Dorian’s, tantalisingly out of reach. ‘Make it seem like you _didn_ _’t_ want to kiss me.’

Dorian made a deeply incoherent noise, angling up but Cullen held him at bay. Another thrust, rougher that time.

‘Slow your breathing, control yourself completely, ignore everything you’re feeling _here_ ,’ he said, touching the skin over Dorian’s heart while he continued pushing Dorian closer to the edge. ‘Hide it best you can but deep down, _deep_ inside you… you feel _this_. That’s a small glimpse of how it was, of what you did to me.’

Dorian closed his eyes, chest hitching. ‘Just from me touching you?’

‘Not just that,’ Cullen murmured. ‘From you looking at me, _painting_ me. When you started taking pictures, I thought I was going to come just from that. Your focus was all over me, you were _arranging_ me and it drove me fucking wild, but I did everything I could not to show it.’

‘You did well,’ Dorian managed, chest rising and falling faster now. ‘I didn’t realise it was—oh, _fuck!_ L-like that for you.’

‘Mmm,’ Cullen burred appreciatively, nuzzling Dorian’s neck as he palmed the head of his cock, the rough grind of his skin making Dorian shudder. ‘Never wanted anything the way I want you. So many reasons why, so _many_ fucking reasons why you’re everything I ever wanted and more.’

Dorian’s eyes rolled back again, the praise hitting him hard, like he and Cullen had switched fucking bodies or something.

‘N-not yet,’ he managed, holding Cullen’s shoulders and the pace, that excruciatingly perfect pace slowed to nothing but a teasing drag, Cullen slowing as soon as he was told. ‘I want us to come together.’

Cullen kissed him, deep and dirty and just a tiny bit possessive. Dorian revelled in it, sought to nurture every single aspect of whatever it was Cullen wanted because he had a sneaking, worrying suspicion that it would align pretty fucking wonderfully with what _he wanted_ too _._

‘You’re going to ruin me,’ he panted into Dorian’s mouth, moving down so his own cock slid against Dorian’s.

Dorian’s hand dipped low, meeting Cullen’s as together they made a grip wide enough for both and immediately, the pressure was a thousand times _better_ , fuck it was so much better and Dorian knew he was going to fucking explode any second.

‘Yes, I am,’ he gasped, low and throaty as they began to slide together. ‘And you’re going to let me, aren’t you?’

Cullen keened, high and needy and Dorian drank it down, possessed every sound he made, left arm curled around his neck as hot, heavy ecstasy began to build and expand, cresting steadily.

‘Yes, _fuck,_ yes.’

‘Let me ruin you because you’re my good boy.’

Cullen faltered then, almost losing his grip and Dorian held him steady, both breathing the same air, skin wet with sweat, smell of sex all around.

‘And this,’ Dorian went on, mere seconds away, his vision blurring slightly. ‘Is nowhere _near_ as good as it’s going to be when you fuck me.’

That drove Cullen to crush their mouths together in a kiss that shoved Dorian right over the edge of his approaching orgasm. It was like a dead drop, like he’d missed a step and _plummeted_ instead. His whole body went taut beneath Cullen and it was the kiss that had done it, Cullen’s kiss felt so fucking amazing that it had made Dorian come hard enough to see _stars_.

They came together, a symphony of desperation and utter, unrestrained rhapsody, crashing through blood, through bone and nerve endings that twisted and stretched in beautiful overdrive.

It went on and _on,_ longer than anything Dorian had felt before and then, his body was worn and abruptly _exhausted_. Cullen flopped heavily atop him, but only for a few seconds. When Dorian patted his shoulder, he considerately rolled over, after pressing a few indulgent, open mouthed kisses to whatever of Dorian’s skin he was closest to. He rolled over and then _off_.

Dorian reached for him, arms feeling heavy. ‘Ngh, where you go?’

Cullen bent back down, kissing Dorian once more, smiling slightly as he did. Dorian couldn’t quite get _over_ that. Smiling while kissing. It was so _new_.

‘Just getting a few things to clean us up,’ he assured Dorian. ‘Then, if you want, we can snuggle.’

Dorian nodded, satisfied that Cullen wasn’t going to do anything ridiculous like _leave_. He lay there, naked and spent, sticky and oh so very happy. ‘Mmmkay,’ he managed, slurring just a bit as his heart rate generously decided to ease back into levels of normality. ‘Snuggles are good, snuggles are wise.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for all the incredibly kind support and amazing feedback. You guys are completely fantastic. 
> 
> Next chapter: ooh, it's time for a little Cullen POV as we interlude with delightful happiness and absolute smut. 
> 
> 💜💜💜


	17. Summer Has Come and Passed, The Innocent Can Never Last (Wake Me Up When September Ends)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SO SORRY this is late, but like, 31k to make up for it? To give myself a tiny bit of breathing room, I'll say that from now on, it'll be Body Glitter Weekends, but hopefully on a Friday. We are roughly halfway through this thing that was MEANT TO BE 40K, can you believe that? I mean, if you read Risk Addiction then yes, you can probably believe it. 
> 
> So, I wanted to do a little Slice of Life with Cullen's backstory but it turned into a baker's dozen of pies. I've been working towards this interlude for a while now so I really, really hope you like. More notes at the end, but just to reiterate once more, all the support, kindness, kudos and comments MEAN THE WORLD to me. Every single word, I promise. Anyway, thank you all SO much. I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

_Cullen Rutherford met a quiet, moody boy with white hair and bronze skin when he was six._

_The boy, Fenris, was withdrawn and somewhat prone to brooding. His hair made him the subject of both merciless teasing from other boys and endless whispered giggling from girls. Cullen frowned at the boys and told the girls to shush and then he gave half his lunch to Fenris, who never seemed to have any lunch at all._

_‘Why?’ Fenris asked suspiciously as Cullen offered him a wonky, torn triangle of his ham and cheese sandwich. ‘I don’t have anything for you.’_

_Cullen shrugged, somewhat baffled._ _‘So?’_

_‘So, keep your lunch,’ Fenris said severely, like it was obvious._

_Cullen was still holding half a sandwich out._ _‘I want to share it.’_

_Fenris flushed delicately around the ears and took the sandwich._ _‘If it shuts you up.’_

_After a few weeks, Fenris had devised a way of earning his half of Cullen's lunch which was to help him with PE. Cullen was, quite frankly, crap at PE and was always picked last for being pudgy, even though he was tall. Fenris showed Cullen that running was fun, if you pretended you were being chased. He showed him how to climb, kick and cartwheel. Showing turned to playing and Cullen found he didn’t want to play with any of the other boys anymore, only Fenris. Sat beside him, shared a lunch that got a bit bigger once his Mum realised what he was doing. Double sandwiches, extra crisps and a second KitKat. Fenris had stared hard the first day Cullen opened his beat up lunch box to find double of everything. Cullen worried he would be angry, was all ready to swear blind he hadn’t asked for it, but Fenris just nudged him and said, ‘Thanks.’_

_Cullen pulled on Fenris's hand to hurry him to class, he playfully shoved his shoulder and most times he was left hanging expectantly for a high five. The boy was withdrawn and he was not familiar with things like_ touch _. He stared suspiciously and he frowned but after a while, he returned the high fives, weak at first and then with more confidence as time passed. He held Cullen’s hand right back when they ran, pulling each other along, sometimes tumbling down in a graceless heap of breathless laughter and when Cullen shoved him, he shoved back. He came for dinner to Cullen’s house, was always extremely polite to his parents and siblings._

_‘He’s a nice boy,’ Cullen’s Dad said after they walked him back to the care home on Malferth Street. ‘He can come round whenever you like, OK?’_

_Cullen had made a best friend and barely a year later, he made another one. A red haired French girl he met when he was seven._

_Leliana spoke fluent English, but retained her accent very strongly. The new girl in class was not shy, but she didn't want to play with the other girls. She sat alone, reading or writing. She knew the answers to all the questions but she never put her hand up. With a long red braid and sharp eyes that saw everything, Leliana was a loner and it made Cullen sad._

_‘She’ll say mean things,’ Fenris muttered when Cullen dragged him over to Leliana’s bench in the playground, solitary as ever, shoulders hunched as she read a book while leaning on the rough wood of a small picnic bench._

_‘So?’_

_‘So, maybe she doesn’t want to—’_

_‘Hi, I’m Cullen. This is Fenris.’_

_Leliana looked up slowly from her book, wary scowl in place._ _‘Good for you,’ she muttered, accent affecting every syllable._

_Cullen was not dissuaded. ‘Can we sit here?’_

_‘Why?’_

_Slinging his bag on the table, careful not to disrupt her books, Cullen sat down and glared at Fenris to follow. 'Others are taken.’_

_‘You already ate. You two eat together under the silver birch tree and then you spend the rest of the time running.’_

_‘I didn’t finish my crisps,’ Cullen said lamely. ‘There’s…a few in the bag still.’_

_‘What are you reading?’ Fenris asked, peering curiously at the text, but unable to see much with Leliana’s arm curled protectively around it._

_‘A book.’_

_Cullen chuckled and fished out the sharp remainders of his crisps, more of a pretence than anything else._

_‘Well, yeah,’ Fenris drawled irritably. ‘_ Which _book?_ _’_

_‘Just… a book.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Cullen said. ‘Fenris can run really fast, you know.’_

_‘Really.’_

_‘Yeah, and he’s teaching me how to climb trees.’_

_‘Fascinating.’_

_‘If you want,’ Cullen persevered. ‘We could show you too.’_

_She looked up, dark green eyes searching his. 'Do you fancy me?’_

_‘No,’ he said, instinct and honesty taking over. ‘Uh, I mean, you’re nice and pretty, I suppose. Bit scary, but—’_

_‘What about you?’ she cut across him, sitting up, gaze on Fenris as she closed the book gently, with care. It was an old book, yellow pages and faded black cover. Cullen just about made out the word_ Lovecraft _across the bottom before she leaned on it._ _‘You fancy me?’_

_Fenris snorted unattractively._ _‘No.’_

_‘Good,’ she said. ‘Then yes, you can sit here if you don’t act too_ dumb _._ _’_

_Cullen tipped the crumbs of his crisps into his mouth._ _‘We’re not dumb.’_

_It wasn’t quite a smile, but something close and Cullen considered that progress._ _‘I’m Leliana, but if you want, you can call me Lee.’_

_*_

_At eight years old, Cullen had two best friends who went with him everywhere. School, then home, sometimes staying over. His parents lived in an ex-council house, a decent sized place that was always very clean (if somewhat chaotic) and very lively. His younger siblings, Bran who was six and Rosalie who was four, loved to play with Fenris and Leliana, who insisted everyone call her Lee. Mia, his older sister by four years, often let Leliana sleep in her room, let her borrow some clothes that she said no longer fit her. Cullen’s parents never minded how often they stayed over, welcomed them into the family. Fenris's curfew for the Care Home was late and Leliana lived with her French mother who spoke hardly any English and didn’t seem to care when or if her daughter came home._

_And so it was, the three of them, always._

_*_

_Fifteen years old, Cullen leaned insolently against the wall outside his school, talking with Fenris while they waited for Rosalie and Branson to finish. He hoisted his schoolbag over his shoulder and laughed when Fenris told him about a disastrous attempt to ask out a year eleven boy._

_Fenris, with long hair and sharp features, was often the focal point of attention from the majority of girls in their class, but the boys so far had not paid equal attention back._

_‘We’ll sort it,’ Cullen assured his best friend, craning his neck over the crowds in search of his younger siblings. ‘You just need to act like you’re not interested.’_

_‘Fuck off, what do you know?’_

_Cullen shrugged._ _‘I know enough.’_

_Fenris gave with a rakish grin and scoffed._ _‘You know jack shit, you’ve never even got a blowjob.’_

_‘I got a hand job, go fuck yourself.’_

_‘Over the trousers doesn’t count, loser.’_

_‘Fucking counts,’ Cullen frowned, distracted. He checked his phone, but had no texts. Usually, Mia texted to say whether or not she was picking him and the others up. He shrugged it off and smiled when Branson came bounding into view, Rosalie bringing up the rear with her gaggle of_ besties, _all of whom gave Cullen and Fenris lingering looks. The older brothers, the boys from secondary._

_Fenris didn’t even notice, engrossed in thoughts of year elevens, and Cullen wished he could feel the same, was left deeply uncomfortable from the attention and wished it elsewhere._

_Rosalie scanned the road behind Cullen. ‘No Mia?’_

_Fenris and Branson started play-fighting as was their way and Cullen stowed his phone in his pocket._ _‘Nah, must be busy. We’ll walk, pick up Lee on the way.’_

_Rosalie did a mini fist pump and bade each of her friends a loving, lingering farewell._

_Leliana's school wasn’t far. An all girls’ Grammar school that required tests Cullen and Fenris had not bothered with. Fenris did that_ thing _with his hair as they approached the gates. Cullen grinned and rolled his eyes, wondering when they'd finally just get it the fuck_ on _, and he looked around for Lee's unique brand of blood red hair._

_Older and therefore cooler than anyone else on the planet, Leliana sashayed over, skirt hiked up the way Cullen's Mum would never allow Rosalie to copy, wearing just enough makeup to fool the teachers. She had the most enormous bag, positively crammed with books and when she caught sight of them, she gave a small wave, pleased to see them._

_‘No Mia?’ she asked, hugging Cullen and handing her book bag to Fenris as routine dictated. She hugged him too, a_ tiny _bit longer than Cullen_ _. Rosalie attached herself to the tall redhead immediately, the pair linking arms._

_‘No,’ Cullen said, shoving the tiny niggling worry to the back of his mind. At nineteen, Mia was the most responsible person he knew, the ultimate big sister in every way. Passed her A levels, accepted to a university nearby with a full grant. She helped with everything, worked on weekends and always made time to take them out in her little car, to make the weekends fun. There was never any need to worry because his sister had everything in hand, always had._

_‘Is she working today?’_

_‘Not on a Wednesday. She went with Mum and Dad for the Uni tour, but that was at one or something. Maybe it ran late. How was maths? Gibson still looking down your top?’_

_They began to walk towards the Rutherford household, barely a mile away. Rosalie hung on Lee's arm and every word she said, Branson texting his friends and unsubtly asking Fenris if he could borrow a fiver. Cullen and Leliana talked about school, about the ridiculously advanced classes she was taking and the test that Cullen was well aware he’d massively fucked up in music._

_‘I thought they were gonna play the fucking song_ in the test _!_ _’ he bemoaned._

_‘Cullen, they gave you a tape three weeks ago, to listen to in advance of this test. How could you not listen to it even once?’_

_Cullen moped._ _‘Because it’s a shit song and I assumed they would play it_ during _the test before they asked me a million questions about it. That's a bullshit test anyway.’_

_‘Mum and Dad will go mad if you fail,’ Branson teased happily. ‘Less than a C, no money from me!’_

_‘Fuck off! I’m not gonna_ fail _music GCSE, it's a total doss.’_

_Lee didn't seem impressed. ‘You failed the mock.’_

_‘Yeah, the_ mock _,_ _’ he said, shoring up his remaining positivity as they turned left into their road. ‘As in practice. I’ll be ready next time.’_

 _‘You’ll actually listen to the tape?’ Fenris chimed in with a sardonic smirk. ‘Because that_ might _help._ _’_

_‘Don’t mess around like that,’ Leliana warned. ‘Wasting your talent because you’re too lazy to work on the practical areas is no excuse.’_

_‘Uh oh!’ Branson crowed, grinning widely as he caught sight of two blue, white and neon yellow cars. ‘It’s the_ poh-leese _! The pigs, the coppers, the poh-poh!_ _’_

_Fenris groaned._ _‘Your brother just made me twenty percent less cool.’_

_‘Shit, though, what’s happened?’ Lee muttered, frowning at the two police cars. ‘It’s right near your house.’_

_‘Maybe someone broke into old man Ronson’s.’_

_‘Or maybe his girlfriend stabbed him again.’_

_‘They’re outside our house,’ Rosalie said warily, light brown eyes wide. ‘They’re parked on the curb, look.’_

_Cullen glanced back at Lee and Fenris, experiencing a nasty clench of unusual fear._ _‘I’ll go in, wait here with the kids.’_

_‘Not_ kids _and we wanna come too!_ _’ Branson wasted no time in declaring while Fenris held him back and offered wry reassurances that the police had probably come calling because of the state of his bedroom. Rosalie wrapped herself around Lee all the more, her gaze on Cullen as he opened the metal gate._

_The grass of their front lawn was far too long but it was autumn and there hadn't been a gap in the rain for anyone to have a chance to use the shitty old mower in weeks. Fenris did it sometimes, Cullen’s Dad giving him a sneaky tenner for a job that was worth a fiver at best. His Dad loved Fenris, always went out of his way to involve him and help him out, despite the fact that his own family were barely scraping by._

_Cullen walked down the path, becoming weirdly nauseous with each step. The front door was ajar and people were inside, speaking in low, serious tones._

_He pushed the door and called out in a bare, quiet kind of way,_ _‘Mum?’_

_*_

_‘You can't drop out, it’s against the law.’_

_‘I’m not dropping out, I’m just… not going anymore.’_

_Leliana leaned against the countertop of the kitchen, the house painfully quiet. It had been two months and Cullen didn't think he would ever,_ ever _get used to the quiet. His Mum and Dad were—_ had been _noisy people, loved playing music until late every night, singing to each other and having little mini-parties together. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes all of them. Cullen's Dad would sing into the remote and serenade his Mum, the same old songs that had Mia and Cullen rolling their eyes, despite knowing every word while Rosie and Bran would dance and yell out of tune, tiny little things in their PJ’s on a Tuesday night._

_No more._

_No more music, no more terrible dancing to all their favourite artists on scratched old CDs. Don McLean, Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin. Fleetwood Mac, Carly Simon and Joan Armatrading._

_None of the safety that Cullen had taken for granted his whole life. Just a sick, swooping feeling of complete uncertainty and loss. Of not knowing what to do next. A place where there had been parents, where his big sister had always made him feel safe._

_All lost to a sudden right turn._

_Leliana came daily but Fenris had outright moved in. He spent each night in Cullen's room on the pull out bed that was sometimes a lumpy sofa. He hadn’t left since the night he arrived, two days after, with a small bag of everything he owned in the world. Cullen hadn’t asked if the boy’s home would try and take him back, if anyone would try to find him. Couldn’t bear to tempt fate, couldn’t fathom getting through the days and nights without his best friend._

_Because now Cullen ran the whole house; he looked after Rosie and Branson. Made crap dinners, washed clothes and shrank them, muddled the colours, forgot to make lunches in time. Half fucked everything up but he was trying, he was_ trying _his best._

_And it was exhausting. Completely fucking exhausting._

_‘Cullen,’ Lee said seriously. ‘If you leave school, it could draw attention to you and the kids.’_

_He started washing up, back to her. Leliana was always so fucking observant, so sharp. Sometimes he couldn_ _’t bear the way she looked right down into him, saw everything about him._

_‘I don’t have time for it,’ he said wearily, scrubbing dried spaghetti stains from a plate. ‘We’re already a month late with rent and the landlord has been all right but he’s not gonna let us live here for free. I can't move us somewhere smaller because how the fuck am I meant to rent a place at fifteen?’_

_‘How the fuck are you meant to do any of this?’_

_Shoulders tight, he scrubbed harder than was necessary._ _‘Social services said that they’d_ try _to keep us together. Try. There's no guarantee. I’m not having that. People get lost in the system, look at Fenris.’_

_He heard her sigh._ _‘They won’t buy the fake Aunt thing forever.’_

_‘I’ll figure something out.’_

_‘And if you drop out before your GCSE’s, someone will chase you up, draw attention to the fact that you’re alone here.’_

_His voice cracked slightly when he said,_ _‘I’m not alone.’_

_‘You know what I mean.’_

_‘Lee, please stop it.’_

_‘I’m just talking it through.’_

_He placed a sud covered plate on the rack with a hand that trembled._ _‘I know you are, but I just can’t. Please.’_

_There was a long pause before she said,_ _‘If I thought it would be any better, you know I’d let you all come live with me.’_

_‘I know you would.’_

_Leliana hissed softly._ _‘That bitch can’t even be relied upon to pretend to be your Aunt, she’ll just use it to extort us for money and fuck knows what else.’_

_Cullen turned, wiping his hands on his jeans._ _‘It’s OK,’ he said, heart lurching painfully because Leliana’s mother was one of the vilest people he’d ever met and he hated that he’d put his friend in a position to even consider asking her for help. ‘I’m sorry for being a prick. I’m just tired.’_

_Her green eyes were steady, were the centre of the world just then._ _‘I know. I’m trying to figure out how we can move forward.’_

_Quietly, Fenris came into the kitchen, decked out in a t-shirt and baggy shorts, Cullen's Dad’s stuff. No sense in parting with what was useful, after all. The sight still brought a vague stinging sensation to the corner of Cullen’s eyes, missed his Dad so much then. Wanted him there, wanted them all there so he could just go upstairs, lay down and actually sleep, not toss and turn relentlessly, worrying about how they were going to survive._

_‘They fell asleep in the big bed again.’_

_Cullen just nodded, rubbing his eyes._ _‘Thanks.’_

_Fenris and Lee hugged briefly._ _‘You OK?’ he asked her._

_She nodded, the pair just about the same height now that Fenris had started catching up. Cullen's jaw worked, thinking of the kids sleeping in their parents’ old bed again, but he didn’t know how to remedy it, or even if he should try._

_‘Did you know he’s dropping out?’_

_Fenris rolled his eyes._ _‘Don’t start, Lee.’_

_‘So I have to be the fucking girl, do I? The one concerned about trifling shit like your_ education _? Cullen, you're smart. You know that five A-C’s make all the difference in the world.’_

_‘I have to pay the rent,’ he said hollowly, leaning against the sink. ‘I have to find money for food, for bills. Clothes, fucking… school supplies, I don’t even know. Money is the priority right now. That’s all I can think about.’_

_Leliana shook her head, looking off to the side._

_‘You’re right,’ she said after a moment or two while Fenris put the kettle on. ‘You’re right, I know you are, I just.’ She exhaled sharply, jaw working._

_And Cullen, who_ _’d been friends with the pair of them since he was a chubby six year old, nodded because he understood. She wanted the best for him._

_But his_ best _did not come first anymore, could not._

_There were priorities, new ones._

_‘All right,’ she said briskly. ‘I’m moving in. We’ll do this together.’_

_Cullen hadn_ _’t been able to offer up even a weak protest when Fenris silently brought his things into the house, but with Lee he had to try, even if it was perfunctory._

_‘You don’t have to do this.’_

_‘I know that. I want to. Maybe between the three of us, we’ll make something… better.’_

_Better than living with her horrible Mum, better than Fenris's Care Home. Better than Cullen crying while he tried to iron school uniforms dry because the washing machine didn’t drain sometimes and he didn’t understand why._

_‘Thank God,’ Fenris muttered, but he was smiling. ‘We’re fucked without you, Lee.’_

_She came to lean beside Cullen, taking his hand in hers._ _‘Well obviously. My Mum won’t give a shit, anyway. She doesn’t get child benefit for me anymore so as far as she’s concerned, I’m just a drain on her precious resources. She’ll be thrilled.’_

_Cullen gave her hand a squeeze and Fenris made tea._

_‘I spoke to a few guys from Denver Corner, they said they know ways we can get a few cash in hand jobs for now. Jack said there’s work going down at the dockside, but Angie said her Dad is looking for someone to help out in the pub too. I’m going tomorrow to scope a few things out.’_

_Taking a deep, shaky breath, Cullen managed something resembling a smile._ _‘That’s great, thanks.’_

_‘And you’re determined that you’re dropping out?’ Leliana asked. ‘Because we can figure something out, I know it.’_

_Cullen did not know it. Kept thinking of the way the social worker - fat, cardigan-clad bitch - had looked dubiously around the living room, had said that word_ try _. Couldn't sleep at night thinking of Rosalie and Bran being taken away, put with strangers._

_‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll go with you tomorrow, Fen.’_

_‘What about the social visit?’_

_‘When’s that?’ Lee asked, taking the tea from Fenris._

_‘Two weeks. She said there needs to be an adult, preferably one to sign guardianship papers.’_

_‘We’ll figure it out before then,’ Leliana said decisively. ‘We’ll figure it all out, don’t worry.’_

_Fenris nudged Cullen._ _‘Yeah, we’re here.’_

_Sandwiched between them, Cullen dared exhale shakily, letting himself relax just a fraction. In that tiny amount, that small bit of slack, he felt a whole world of_ grief _just waiting to pour out, desperate for freedom._

_Desperate to cry for what he_ _’d lost._

_It couldn_ _’t come out yet, he knew that, but he could breathe just a bit easier for now with his best friends there. The three of them against the world, the way it had always been._

_He closed his eyes and whispered,_ _‘Love you both.’_

_*_

_‘I never get to have sleepovers!’_

_‘You had one last month, Bran,’ Fenris pointed out reasonably, washing his hands while Cullen shoved in an oven tray, laden with frozen food._

_‘That was my birthday!’ thirteen-year-old Branson sneered, angry and on edge as he so often was. ‘Do I only get basic shit as birthday treats now? Like we only have kitchen roll at Christmas and brand Coca Cola when Lee gets them free from her shop cos they’re dented. Fuck my life!’_

_Cullen looked up sharply._ _‘Watch your mouth.’_

_Branson simmered, lip curling._ _‘Fuck_ you _!'_

_‘Hey, time out, right the fuck now,’ Fenris said, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. He was even and measured, never flinched, but never lost his temper either. Cullen relied on him more than was likely healthy, especially when it came to dealing with Bran._

_‘What? Why? And you swore too!’_

_‘Yeah, well, I’m older and I earn money.’_

_‘I’ll go out and earn money!’ came the reply, whipcord fast. ‘I’ll go work with Alex’s big brother, Zevran, how’s that?’_

_‘Dealing? That’s your way of making life better is it?’_

_‘Better money,’ Bran said, gaze sliding to Cullen. ‘More in a day than what_ you _earn in a week at that shit-hole pub, dicking around, flirting with barmaids.'_

_Fenris was implacable and Cullen could feel himself hiding behind his best friend._ _‘Enough. Room, no phone.’_

_‘No.’_

_‘No phone for a week then?’_

_‘Fuck you, you’re not gonna do shit! You’re not my family, just some freeloading_ mate _!_ _’_

_‘Two weeks?’_

_‘You can’t take my phone.’_

_‘I can and I will.’_

_Branson looked between Fenris and his brother, the latter having fallen silent._ _‘Pair of arseholes,’ he muttered resentfully, flinging his phone across the countertop where it hit the toaster and rebounded onto the floor with a loud, clumsy clatter. The back flew off and the battery sprang out._

_‘Instant karma, mate,’ Fenris proclaimed calmly, picking up the pieces. ‘Screen’s fine. Now unless you want me to chuck these pieces in the bin, get up to your room and get on with your homework,_ please _._ _’_

_Bran glared and Cullen looked away._ _‘Fine.’_

_As he went up the stairs, Cullen called out, trying to sound normal,_ _‘Dinner’s in half an hour.’_

_‘Don’t want your shitty frozen dinners!’ the teenager screamed, causing Cullen to flinch. ‘Good thing I’m not allowed sleepovers anyway because this place is so fucking_ EMBARRASSING _!_ _’_

_Only when the door slammed shut, shaking the walls with the force of Branson's anger, did Fenris pull Cullen into a solid, fierce hug, holding him tight while Cullen cried silently into his shoulder._

_*_

_When money began to level out, when bills were just about being paid on time, they found little ways to be happy. They went to the park, played football, snuck onto the trains for free and rode to Margate, to the beach on hot days. They swam in the freezing water and then huddled together eating hot, vinegary chips, sand in their toes, wind whipping over their damp skin._

_They went to the dodgy fairgrounds that popped up and because Fenris knew a few of the_ carnies _, they usually rode for free, winning terrible prizes that broke before they got home and eating greasy, onion slathered hotdogs._

_They had movie nights when Blockbuster had a deal that allowed five films for five nights for five quid. They tried to make their own popcorn and ended up burning it. Branson would huff and protest at movie nights but he always chose a film, always watched with the others even if he sat alone on the floor, back against the old sofa. They ate Maltesers instead of popcorn, Fenris throwing them high, trying to catch them in his mouth, failing nine times out of ten. Leliana grew impatient with sticky, melted chocolate balls constantly bouncing onto her and sometimes she would sit directly opposite him on the sofa, legs crossed, throwing them into his mouth and teaching him how as if he were a trained seal. Rosalie sat on Cullen's lap and they cracked up laughing when Lee would get impatient and lob one at his eye instead._

_Cullen saved enough to get a new football kit for the team Branson joined, new cleats too and when he presented it to his younger brother, Bran didn't seem to know what to say. Stared at the fresh packaging, at the untouched clothes and the labels, silent until he grunted out an awkward, ‘Thanks.’_

_Things were getting better which was why it shouldn_ _’t have been a surprise when they inevitably slid back down again._

_*_

_It was so_ stupid, _so avoidable._

_His hand on someone’s shoulder, Cullen had always been too ready to touch. He had the words half formed, ready to tell the young bloke, close enough to Cullen's own age, to back off and leave the girl alone, let her collect glasses without being harassed._

_Stupid, tiny moment that he would regret forever._

_*_

_‘It looks so painful,’ Rosalie said, her pretty features creased with concern as she sat on Leliana’s lap in a doubtlessly uncomfortable hospital chair. ‘Does it hurt?’_

_Cullen didn't smile because that, he was discovering, was fucking agony. ‘Nah,’ he said, hoping to communicate it with his eyes instead. One half of his lower face was covered in thick bandages and the painkillers were steadily wearing off. Leliana was holding his hand, hadn’t let go once since she’d arrived with Rosalie and Branson in tow. Fenris was outside, speaking to the police._

_‘What happened?’ Branson asked quietly, brow creased._

_Swallowing slightly, Cullen shrugged._ _‘Caught in the crossfire of a stupid drunken fight.’_

_‘Don’t lie.’_

_‘I’m not.’_

_‘Did he have a knife?’_

_‘No knife.’_

_‘What, then? I heard the nurse talking about stitches, about how it could cause permanent nerve damage so you maybe can’t smile properly ever again! What did it?’_

_‘Bran,’ Leliana said soothingly, her slightly accented voice one of two that Cullen relied upon to keep his world spinning. ‘He’s fine, look. He’s right there.’_

_‘Why would someone hurt you?’ Rosalie asked tearfully, bottom lip wobbling as she climbed out of Lee’s lap and into Cullen’s arms. He could feel her shaking all over as he held her, rubbed her back soothingly. She wrapped her arms around his middle, careful not to jog his face._

_‘It was an accident,’ he lied kindly, doing everything he could to sound normal, not to slur. He didn’t want to think of what had actually happened, of how the glass had been smashed against the side of the bar before thrust towards his face. It was all a horrible, spiteful blur of physical reactions he didn’t know how to process. He couldn’t properly recall a lot of it, was told by nurses he lost a ton of blood and went into shock for a while. ‘Some drunken twat messing with a barmaid.’_

_‘’S’not what Thom said,’ Bran stated flatly, suspiciously._

_‘You spoke to Thom?’_

_‘He drove us here,’ Lee explained holding his gaze meaningfully. ‘He’s talking to the police too.’_

_Cullen swore quietly. 'Shit.'_

__

_‘What?’ Bran asked looking between the two of them._

__

_‘Well obviously I’m not meant to be working there,’ Cullen explained under his breath. ‘Can’t have them looking into it.’_

__

_‘So, you’re not gonna pursue it then?’_

__

_‘No,’ he said, pressing a kiss to Rosalie’s head as she drew away, wiping her nose. ‘It’s fine. It was an accident.’_

__

_‘How is_ this _an accident?’_

__

_Cullen held his younger brother's gaze. ‘It just_ was _._ _’_

__

_Something fractured in Bran's anger then, a splinter of realisation that Cullen was asking for his help for Rosalie’s sake. He straightened and he blinked a few times._

__

_‘Yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s… yeah, really shit, I’m sorry.’_

__

_Cullen stroked Rosalie's hair and nodded at Bran, grateful. ‘Yeah, just my luck, eh?’_

__

_‘You have the worst timing,’ Lee agreed, glancing over her shoulder as Fenris came to join them with Thom trailing behind, Cullen’s blood tactfully wiped away and hidden beneath his zipped up jacket._

__

_‘How you feeling, son?’ the older man asked as Fenris came to sit on the other side of Cullen’s bed, handing out cans of Coke and Fanta that materialised from the inside of his jacket. Fenris knew a couple of tricks with vending machines and though he rarely used them, Cullen was glad this was one such time._

__

_‘Fine, ready to go, really,’ Cullen said, ignoring the throbbing, splintering agony that came just from talking. ‘What did the police say?’_

__

_‘Raleigh told me they’re holding the one who did it,’ Thom explained slowly. ‘But you’ll need to make a statement. I said they could come back here tomorrow morning.’_

__

_‘No,’ Cullen said, patting Rosalie so she got the hint to move off. ‘I’m completely fine. It’s all big scary bandages, but they showed me the cut, it’s tiny. They said they’ll let me go tonight.’_

__

_He could tell Thom didn't believe a word of it. ‘Right. You’re_ not _pressing charges then?_ _’_

__

_Cullen winced at the memory of the glass, of the yelling and the roar of the pub, the_ sensation _as jagged glass tore his mouth apart._

__

_‘Nope, I’m fine. Just wanna go home. They’re giving me some antibiotics and then I’m all set.’_

__

_If_ all set _meant sneaking out the fire exit, then it was the complete truth. He and Fenris had work at the yard tomorrow and he couldn't miss a single day, would be replaced instantly. They wouldn’t give a shit how badly hurt he was._

__

_‘I can press charges on your behalf,’ Thom said, quieter. ‘You shouldn’t let the little fucker get away with—’_

__

_Cullen cleared his throat and looked around, chest tight enough to break his ribs._ _‘Can someone find my shoes?’_

__

_‘They’re uh, not in the best state,’ Lee pointed out._

__

_Which meant they were covered in blood. Brilliant._

__

_‘OK, no worries.’_

__

_‘Cullen,’ Thom went on. ‘Look, I know you don’t want the scrutiny, but that’s gonna scar forever. What if he hurts someone else like that? You_ need _to press charges._ _’_

__

_‘I don’t want to.’_

__

_‘It’s not so bad as you—’_

__

_‘I probably couldn’t point him out of a fucking line-up, I don’t_ remember _what even happened and anyway,_ _’ he said, trying to calm his breathing. ‘It was an accident.’_

__

_Cullen lifted his gaze to Thom, hoping to hit him with whatever strength he had left inside him. Rosalie was watching everything, listening to every word. Lee held her hand, thumb rubbing over her knuckles. She_ _’d already lost so much, Rosie. Innocence hanging by a thread._

__

_‘Look—’ Thom started in, but Bran stood up suddenly, drawing his attention._

__

_‘He said it was an accident,’ the boy echoed staunchly. ‘That’s all there is to it.’_

__

_Thom knew when he was beaten and even though Cullen wasn't angry at the man who_ _’d carried him into the ambulance, he was still relieved when he left, just family again._

__

_Rosalie sat at the end of his bed._ _‘Will you be able to sing again?’ she asked faintly, tears in her eyes._

__

_‘Of course he will, Rosie Rey,’ Fenris drawled, swapping Bran’s Coke for a Fanta when the younger teenager sat down again. ‘We’ll have many more off-kilter karaoke nights to suffer through yet, you’ll see.’_

__

_Rosalie grimaced at the nickname, but she smiled a little when she wiped her eyes. Cullen felt useless then as he so often did, unsure of how to comfort her when simply_ speaking was _painful enough to leave him dizzy._

__

_He just needed to get home and take some painkillers, that was all. Some_ decent _painkillers, not just a couple of paracetamol chased with a single sodding ibuprofen._

__

_‘We should get going,’ he said under his breath, winking at Rosalie and hoping for now that was enough. ‘No way I’m sleeping on this rickety thing all night.’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_The pain was constant and it_ quite literally _hurt for Cullen to smile. It took a few weeks for the slur in his speech to fade, but the pain hung around, branded into the nerves sliced by jagged glass and delicate flesh that had healed into a distinct and permanent scar._

__

_He lost his virginity to a girl named Kim Surana, one of the barmaids from where he worked. She kissed around the scar, around the slightly swollen skin of his mouth and she rode him hard, coming before even he did because the pain was impossible to ignore and made what should have been a good experience into something he could barely focus on, just wished it would_ end _._

__

_When it was done, his body shaking with a strange combination of prickly things, she kissed his cheek, the good side and smiled._

__

_‘That’s for protecting us,’ she told him. ‘You’re a sweet boy.’_

__

_Cullen watched her get dressed while downstairs, pub music played loudly and drunks made the noises they often did. A dull, rough cacophony of rusty enjoyment._

__

_‘Is that the only reason?’ he asked her when she yanked her top back on, buttoning her jeans._

__

_‘Huh?’_

__

_‘Why you fucked me?’ he asked, all that pumping blood aggravating the razor sting in his lip, pain making him short._

__

_‘Oh,’ she said, expression smoothing in understanding. ‘Well, not completely. You’re fit too,’ Kim added. ‘Everyone fancies you, even though you’re a bit… y’know, bigger. Anyway, see you downstairs.’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_‘How long since you’ve slept?’_

__

_‘I can’t tell.’_

__

_‘Well, that’s not good.’_

__

_‘Fenris, I love you, but please shut up.’_

__

_‘I love you too, but let us help you, for God’s sake. It’s been three months and you look like you’re on the verge of passing out all the time.’_

__

_Cullen's back ached from the hours of manual labour hauling cut down trees into a giant wood-chipper, but that was nothing to the raging, unparalleled agony of how much it hurt to bend down_. _It set his face on fire, made him want to claw his lips off._

__

_‘How would you help? Christ, as if you both don’t already do enough.’_

__

_‘I don’t know, but pretending you’re fine cannot be making this any better. We could go back to the doctors.’_

__

_‘Additional surgery will keep me in for two weeks.’_

__

_Fenris threw a leafy log into the machine harder than necessary._ _‘Fucking hell, you can’t go on like this!’_

__

_Cullen dropped his tree._ _‘Like what? Like_ what? _I'm doing the best I can, what more do you want?’_

__

_‘I want you to be OK, I want you not to be in pain!’_

__

_‘Sorry to disappoint you, then!’_

__

_‘Oi! Less chat, more chucking!’ the foreman called out sternly and Fenris bent to pick up Cullen’s tree, lobbing it down into the shredder._

__

_‘Fucking prick,’ he muttered under his breath. Cullen took off his protective goggles and wiped his eyes, not wet from tears but dry, so fucking dry and always itching. ‘Look, I know things are tight at the minute, the kids need uniforms for next term and there’s a ton of bills overdue, but Lee gets paid at the end of the month and no matter what you say, we can manage for two weeks. Please. Please, think about it.’_

__

_Cullen nodded, but the nod was a lie._

__

__

_*_

__

__

_‘You left school, I don’t see why I can’t.’_

__

_Cullen closed the fridge, milk in hand. It was eleven at night and he was exhausted, in pain and stressed._ _‘Because there’s no_ reason _for you to leave. We're doing OK and you’re finishing school no matter what.’_

__

_Branson crossed his arms._ _‘I can help, get a job like you.’_

__

_‘You don’t need to,’ Cullen said shortly, turning away._

__

_‘OK, well what if I want to?’_

__

_‘No.’_

__

_‘C’mon, I could use the extra—’_

__

_Cullen slammed his hand down on the countertop._ _‘NO!’_

__

_Silence sat heavy and ugly between them, Cullen scrambling for strength to be calm and Bran saying nothing._

__

_After counting to ten, Cullen took a deep slow breath._ _‘I’m sorry. Look, what is it you want the money for? I’ll try to pull a couple of—’_

__

_But when he turned back, Bran had already gone_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_Rosalie and Branson were at school and Cullen was doing housework. It was never ending work but it helped to stay busy, stay distracted. He was hoovering when Lee came downstairs. She worked nights in the local packing factory while pushing through sixth form and was never normally up so early. She was shock white when Cullen caught sight of her._

__

_‘What’s wrong?’_

__

_He turned the hoover off and dropped it, following her out into the kitchen as she swept past. Awkwardly, he rubbed the back of his neck._ _‘You want a tea?’_

__

_‘No, I’m—fuck, I need air.’_

__

_Cullen hurried to unlock the back door, leading out into the small garden with a rusty swing set that hadn_ _’t been used in years and weeds that were well out of control._

__

_Outside, she covered her mouth, back to him as she gathered herself and he waited, unable to recall the last time he_ _’d seen her like this, so… so emotional._

__

_Slowly, she swivelled to look at him._ _‘I just took a test.’_

__

_Cullen blinked._ _‘Right, bad result? You never fail tests, Lee.’_

__

_With an impatient hiss, she half rolled her eyes and pursed her lips._ _‘No, Cullen. A test. A pregnancy test!’_

__

_‘A… oh God. Oh,_ shit _._ _’_

__

_‘Yeah, shit!’ she snapped, letting her hands fall hard against her sides as she looked fretfully around. ‘I’ve been feeling crap the last few weeks. Tired, moody. Took a test just to rule it out and there’s a fucking extra_ line _. It's up there, on the side of the bath. Positive.’ She stared at the walls of the house, gaze unseeing. ‘Motherfucking positive.’_

__

_‘You’re—’_

__

_‘Pregnant.’_

__

_Cullen wasn't stupid, he_ knew _he shouldn't ask what came tumbling out of his mouth next, but he just couldn’t help it._

__

_‘Is it… Fenris’s?’_

__

_Lee closed her eyes._

__

__

_*_

__

__

_It was an ugly, awful thing and Cullen offered repeatedly to leave the two of them to it, but neither allowed him. Both Fenris and Leliana wanted him there, wanted him as the buffer for the conversation that threatened to tear them apart._

__

_What had started out simple, quickly became complicated and tangled, emotions and strangled pride emerging from them both as they sat in the living room, eyes riveted to one another as if enemies for the first time._

__

_And Cullen had known they were sort of together for a few months now, maybe longer, but they were both of the nature where if they'd_ wanted _to talk about it, they'd have come to him._

__

_Like now._

__

_‘You know that’s not what I mean, of_ course _it's your choice! Don’t put words in my mouth and make me out to be the bad guy!’ Fenris snarled in a quiet dangerous way. ‘I’m just saying you have an option to consider!’_

__

_‘You’re not listening to me,’ Lee said tightly, hands clasped together tight enough that her knuckles were bleached. ‘I’ve heard the alternative you’re presenting and while I appreciate the sentiment, it’s not feasible.’_

__

_‘Don’t speak to me like that.’_

__

_‘Like what?’_

__

_‘Like I’m a child, like you look down on me.’_

__

_Cullen leaned forward between his two best friends, wondering if he should say anything._ _‘No one is looking down on anyone,’ he went with quietly, moving his mouth as little as possible so as not to aggravate the nerve damage, the searing pain._

__

_‘I’m not going through eight more months of hell, wrecking my body and then handing a_ baby _over to you, Fenris._ _’_

__

_‘And that’s your decision, but don’t you dare say to me you have no choice in this. I am_ offering _you a choice. It might not be a good one but—_ _’_

__

_Leliana's lip curled. ‘_ Might not be good? _You're freshly seventeen, we live in a house with three other people, barely scraping by as it is! And say I do give you the baby, say I just hand it over, what will you do? Stay here, where I’ll have to see it every day?’_

__

_Fenris looked down._ _‘No.’_

__

_‘What then?’_

__

_‘I just… fuck, Lee, I’m just trying to make it better.’_

__

_‘Then tell me there’s no other option!’ she burst out, voice cracking. ‘Don’t make this worse than it has to be by presenting me with some mythical non-existent_ option _because we both know what will happen if I give the baby to you. I'll get drawn in and there goes my whole life, every chance we might ever have of getting out of here.’_

__

_He ground his jaw._ _‘Maybe I don’t want to get out of here.’_

__

_‘EXACTLY!’_

__

_They stared at one another while Cullen watched in misery, pain in his lip seconded for once by something far worse._

__

_‘I’m getting an abortion,’ she said, exerting great effort to bring her voice back under control. ‘And I’m not happy about it, I’m not rubbing it in your face. I didn’t have to tell you, but I did because we’ve never lied to each other and I won’t start now. I know you don’t want me to do this but that’s not enough of a reason for me to ruin my whole life.’_

__

_Fenris listened and then he nodded, looking away._ _‘I appreciate that this choice is yours to make,_ but _I can't help how I feel and I can’t help offering what I am, however pitiful it is. I couldn’t live with myself unless I tried.’_

__

_They were silent so long that Cullen could hear faint breathing from Rosie and Bran where they were no doubt crouched on the stairs. He lifted his eyes in tired exasperation._ _‘Back to bed, now!’_

__

_He heard scuffles and whispered accusations about whose idea it was. A headache was settling between his eyes. He so often had headaches due to the pain in his face that he rarely noticed them anymore except this one was definitely a migraine of some sort._

__

_Leliana nodded decisively, blinking tears down her face._ _‘You tried. Happy now?’_

__

_Fenris didn't answer, slowly getting up from the chair instead. Cullen heard the familiar sounds of him grabbing his coat and keys, the quiet click of the door as it shut. When he was gone, Leliana put her hands over her mouth, eyes closed tight. Cullen hurried over to the small sofa, sitting beside her._

__

_He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him._

__

_‘I’m sorry,’ he said uselessly, always so fucking_ useless. _‘So sorry, Lee.’_

__

_She shook her head and turned enough that they could hug properly. He rocked them back and forth a little and she made no move to draw away._

__

_‘Sing to me,’ she whispered, resting her cheek on the bones of his shoulder. ‘Sing me something sad.’_

__

_It was quiet and soft, the kind of song about things lost, never to return. After a while, it brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes too and maybe that was the point. To be sad together, to be there in the same moment, if for very different reasons._

__

__

_*_

__

__

_Cullen went with her, drove her back from the clinic even though he only had his provisional. She trusted him with her car and he wouldn_ _’t let her down. It was awful. It was quick and simple and the staff were kind, but it was awful. The whole way back she was groggy and pale. Silent, watching the world go by as he took lower roads, mindful of the speed limit in her little blue Corsa._

__

_Neither of them had heard from Fenris in days. He wasn_ _’t answering his phone, didn’t reply to messages and hadn’t come home since he’d left that night. Rosalie asked where he was constantly, always in a small voice because at twelve, she expected that people who went away for a while could easily be dead._

__

_Cullen half carried Leliana upstairs, gently laid her down on the bed and kissed her cheek lightly, grasping her shoulder as he drew covers over her, the winter chill always finding it_ _s way inside despite it being only midday. He faltered then, not knowing what else to do for a while but she didn’t stay long. Sat up groggily and extended her hand for help to go to the bathroom._

__

_Leliana didn't lock the door once inside, was smart enough to know the dangers of passing out while in a locked bathroom. She left the door on the latch while Cullen waited outside, back against the wall beside the door just in case. She took a long time and he heard soft, breathy cries when she ran the tap to wash her hands._

__

_‘Lee?’_

__

_‘I’m fine,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Coming out now.’_

__

_Cullen took her back to bed and stayed with her until she was asleep. When he went downstairs, he pulled out his phone, called Fenris's mobile, shaking hand pressed over his eyes._

__

_‘You’re a coward,’ he told the voicemail, tone unstable and low. ‘A fucking coward and a complete prick for not being there for her. Fuck you, Fenris.’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_Every day after the voicemail, his friend's absence grew larger and darker like a black hole. Fenris had never done this, never once ignored a message for longer than a few hours. Cullen’s worry grew with every moment that passed, but he tried to reason that it was a traumatic thing and sometimes trauma did weird things to people. Maybe he needed space._

__

_So Cullen cleaned and he cooked the cheap, shitty food and he worked. He worked until his arms trembled and he wanted to cry. He did homework with Rosalie that he didn't fully understand because she was in higher sets than he’d ever been, looking over at Lee and pleading silently for help. He tried to spend time with Branson, did his best to carve out an hour here and there to just sit with him, but the kid was still angry and their life was such that there was never a shortage of things to be angry about._

__

_It had been two weeks when Leliana broke the bubble._

__

_‘Something’s happened,’ she said, mouth drawn, arms wrapped tight about herself. ‘There’s no way he’d stay away this long, not after—not at least without checking in.’_

__

_Cullen didn't even argue, felt the same way but had been suckered into hoping, just this once, for things to sort themselves out. For Fenris to walk in, toss his keys on the side and kick off his boots._

__

_‘What do we do?’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_‘He’s seventeen?’_

__

_‘Yes.’_

__

_‘Previously a ward of the state?’_

__

_‘Care Home on Malferth Street, yeah.’_

__

_‘Lot of runaways from there.’_

__

_‘He was living with us.’_

__

_‘Uh huh.’_

__

_‘He wouldn’t just leave like this.’_

__

_‘Not much to be done besides file a missing person report.’_

__

_Cullen had been expecting as much but Leliana reeled, palms slamming hard on the front desk of their local police station._

__

_‘That’s it?’_

__

_The attendant blinked placidly, unaffected._ _‘He’s an adult. No suspicious circumstances. You said you’d had a fight. Men leave, sweetheart. It happens.’_

__

_Cullen knew what she wanted to do, could see the way her nails dragged along the grey plastic of the high desk. She wouldn_ _’t, though. Knew better. It was a grim sterile place and Cullen just wished they hadn’t even bothered._

__

_‘Fuck you,’ she said, deadly quiet. ‘We’ll find him ourselves.’_

__

__

_*_

__

__

_‘Zev, we owe you big time,’ Leliana repeated, leaning over the older man’s shoulder to stare at the laptop. Cullen craned his neck to see the screen but it was angled away as Zevran sat on the floor on his tie-dye rug, drug paraphernalia casually scattered around the flat. ‘I promise, we’ll have the money in a few weeks.’_

__

_‘Nah, don’t be silly,’ the drug dealer waived away, smiling easily at Leliana. ‘We’re friends.’_

__

_It wasn_ _’t the word Cullen would have used but they didn’t know anyone else who could access local CCTV for them._

__

_‘OK, so do we do this now or—’_

__

_‘No, just leave the details of where he last was and what time. I’ll work backwards from there. I know what he looks like.’_

__

_‘Thank you,’ Cullen said, not allowing his dislike of the man to interfere with gratitude._

__

_Zevran waved one hand, typing fast with the other. Cullen looked away from the laptop, a pang of guilt in his gut because Bran was always asking for one, said he needed it for homework but it would have to be the library after school for the foreseeable future._

__

_‘I’ve got to pee, then we’ll go,’ Leliana said, pushing up to stand. ‘OK to use your loo, Zev?’_

__

_‘Don’t disturb the foliage.’_

__

_Cullen didn't have to ask what Zevran was growing in there._

__

_‘How’s your mouth?’ Zevran asked idly, attention mostly on the screen. Cullen winced, hated it when someone asked that._

__

_‘Fine.’_

__

_‘Heard you had nerve damage.’_

__

_‘It’s not so bad.’_

__

_The older man scribbled something down on a pad, looking back up at the screen now and then._ _‘They give you pain management?’_

__

_‘Paracetamol and a neurofen, you know how they are.’_

__

_‘Yeah,’ Zev chuckled. ‘I know. Fucked my knee up good and proper few years back, never quite the same. Shredded nerve cluster or some shit. Stairs are torture.’_

__

_Cullen nodded briskly, willing Leliana to move her arse. 'Sounds shit.’_

____

_‘It’s manageable. You ever try TnT?’_

____

_‘I don’t do drugs.’_

____

_Zev shot him a look, grinning._ _‘It’s a_ patch _, kid. Fentanyl, the same stuff they gave you in the hospital that probably wore off too quick. I think I've got a couple of spares, somewhere.’ He began raking around in a basket behind him with what had, initially, looked like condoms and lollipops._

____

_‘No, that’s—’_

____

_‘Yeah, here you go.’ He handed a few silver compressed packs to Cullen. ‘They’re like nicotine patches. Pop one on your arm et voila.’_

____

_He was holding them out, jiggling them expectantly._

____

_‘No thanks.’_

____

_‘Bit rude to refuse your generous host.’_

____

_Cullen blew air through his teeth and took the packs, wondering how soon he could chuck them once they were away._ _‘I suppose they’re free, to get me hooked?’_

____

_Chuckling, Zevran looked back at the laptop as Leliana pulled the flush._ _‘That’s a fun cliché.’_

____

_Lee looked between them._ _‘All set?’_

____

_Cullen got up, stuffing the little thin packets into his jacket pocket._ _‘All set. Thanks again.’_

____

_Zevran waved._ _‘I’ll call when I have something.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen waited until he was freshly showered, sat in his room that night with nothing but a lamp nearby to see the packs with as he examined them. There was no writing, no stamp. Just plain silver squares and when he tore one open, inside was a clear square patch with a light orange middle._

____

_He missed Fenris, he missed being able to think straight without the pain of his mouth interrupting every single rational thought in his head._

____

_And even though he knew he should have thrown them out, knew_ better _, God damn it, he peeled the clear plastic back off the patch and then placed it delicately on his upper arm._

____

_He sat back on his bed, nervous and shaky. It was weird to feel_ _… disappointed that nothing was happening. Most of him was obviously_ relieved _that Zevran had been talking absolute shit, passing off a bunch of duds but a part of him had been so, so ready to feel something, anything else other than pain._

____

_Cullen rolled his eyes and swung his legs over the side of his bed and the movement, all that blood rushing to his heart seemed to trigger something. His arm tingled very suddenly and it hit him in slow motion; a kind of glittering, sugar sweet euphoria followed immediately by the total and complete removal of_ pain _._

____

_His pain melted away like ice cream, vanished as if it had never been there. He sat on the side of his bed, fingers dug into the material, eyes wide, jaw lax. He'd never felt anything like it,_ never _._

____

_It was happiness made manifest, it was pure bliss. He could think clearly, perfect clarity. Oh God, this was heaven._

____

_Slowly, eyes rolling up slightly, he laid back down, sinking into a beautifully soft pillow, fine vibration running through his bones as if receiving a rolling massage. Each inhale was deep and velvety. His blood was cool and slow, heartbeat gentle as if not wishing to disturb him._

____

_He arched his back slowly as something akin to an orgasm but much deeper, much more fluid hit his bloodstream. Eyes slightly crossed, he fell into the waiting arms of a blissful, benign darkness._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen awoke to an extremely dry mouth and the return of the old familiar pain. It wasn't_ quite _so bad as usual, though. He looked around, slightly dazed because he'd_ slept _. He'd fucking slept for hours and it was daylight._

____

_Shit. Daylight._

____

_He sat up too fast, head spinning as he hurried out into the hallway, a tangle of graceless, panicked limbs._

____

_‘Rosie? Bran?’_

____

_‘They’re at school,’ Leliana called up the stairs. ‘It’s all good.’_

____

_‘Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.’_

____

_‘For sleeping? Don’t be stupid, I’m thrilled you slept for once, so were the kids. No one wanted to wake you. There’s tea and toast down here if you want some.’_

____

_Heart pounding guiltily, he retrieved his phone, checked for non-existent messages and then padded downstairs._

____

_‘Thanks,’ he said quietly, sitting at the table beside her. She was dressed smartly, blazer and shirt, black trousers and heels. Makeup done to perfection, the way Rosie was starting to copy. She had folders open in front of her, highlighters and pens._

____

_Lee looked up, a faint smile visible in her green eyes._

____

_‘Of course. You OK?’_

____

_Cullen took a deep breath, assessing, as he reached for his tea. It was lukewarm but he decided he didn't really care, couldn’t be bothered to microwave it. ‘Yeah, I think so. I was just exhausted.’_

____

_‘Mmm, I’m glad you slept,’ she said, eyes moving to his right arm, a small frown permeating her otherwise placid expression. ‘What’s that?’_

____

_Heart flipping painfully, Cullen followed her gaze._ _‘Oh, that?’ he said, pulling at the patch. ‘Rosalie was showing me different kinds of plasters she found in an old first aid kit.’_

____

_He picked nervously at the edges of the patch, finding it difficult to remove and painful when he finally tore it off._

____

_Lee looked back down at her work._ _‘She still wants to be a nurse, then?’_

____

_Cullen laughed, barely able to make it sound normal._ _‘Yeah, I guess so. Any word from Zevran?’_

____

_‘Nothing yet, but I’ll swing by on my way to class. You’re working today?’_

____

_‘Midday,’ he said. ‘So, are we just waiting on Zev or…?’_

____

_‘To be honest, I don’t know,’ she answered hollowly, sipping her tea. ‘I just don’t know. I’ll use the computers in the library, see what I can drag up about searching for people. In the meantime, I guess… just ask around if anyone has seen him.’_

____

_Cullen nodded._ _‘That’s a good plan.’_

____

_‘Once we have some idea of which direction he went, then we can start going there, start asking proper questions.’ She took a shaky breath, jaw working. ‘We’ll find him.’_

____

_He reached for her hand that rested against a page full of highlighted passages._ _‘We will.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen cut the patch into four squares and put a single square on the pale, unused skin of his underarm, covering it with a normal plaster. The effect was nowhere near as euphoric, but the pain relief made him functional. He could think, he felt sharp and alert, confident they would find Fenris._

____

_Before work, he dropped by a few places, knocked on doors of friends and told them to keep an ear to the ground for any news of Fenris. A few of them commented that he seemed perky, seemed_ better _._

____

_He changed out the patch before his shift started._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘It’s Zev.’_

____

_Cullen froze, Rosalie and Bran mimicking him in the middle of the supermarket, gripping a half full trolley._

____

_Lee swallowed and then smoothly answered her phone._

____

_‘Hey, what’s up? Right,’ she said, nodding tightly. ‘Right, OK. Yeah, see you in a minute.’ Leliana hung up. ‘He’s got something, said we need to go there now.’_

____

_Rosalie pushed the trolley away, determined and fierce._ _‘Let’s go, then.’_

____

_Cullen shook himself._ _‘What about—?’_

____

_‘Fuck shopping,’ Bran said, pulling Cullen by the hand. ‘If he knows where Fenris is, that’s all that matters.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘Don’t touch anything,’ Cullen warned the kids under his breath as they went inside the flat. Zevran was clad in a dressing gown and slippers, his hair tied in a bun._

____

_‘What do you have?’ Leliana asked, wasting no time._

____

_Zevran waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his small kitchen._ _‘Does anyone want some noodles?’_

____

_Cullen barely refrained from throttling him._ _‘No thanks.’_

____

_‘Are you sure? I’ve found a new way to make them, with butter and ketchup and a dash of—’_

____

_‘ZEVRAN!’ Lee burst out, making Rosalie jump. ‘Please!’_

____

_‘Huh, OK,’ the very stoned drug dealer said, like she’d made a compelling point. ‘Right, I’ll show you what I found.’_

____

_‘Guys, sit here,’ Cullen said, pointing to the mostly clean part of the sofa with a bright orange throw. Zev sat on his rug again and Leliana and Cullen followed suit. He opened the laptop and immediately, a video screen was visible._

____

_‘So,’ Zevran said slow enough to make Cullen’s pancreas twitch. ‘I found him here, leaving your road, see?’_

____

_He pressed play and Cullen's heart leapt. It was Fenris, storming off, hands in his pockets. Though hard to see in the dark of that night, there was no mistaking him, the hunch of his shoulders, typical brooding posture._

____

_‘OK,’ Lee said. ‘Where did he go next?’_

____

_‘He walked for a while, headed out towards blue lake, I think. I lost him a couple of times_ so _, I made a projection of where he was headed based on the algorithm of where he'd already gone, which was pretty fucking impressive if I say so myself.’ He tapped the space bar and it played some more. ‘But you’re not gonna be happy.’_

____

_‘What? Why?’_

____

_‘So, here,’ he said pointing. ‘This is that pub on Westpoint.’_

____

_‘The Crow and Kiln?’_

____

_‘Yeah, see. Fenris walks along here,’ Zevran said, following the shadowy figure with his finger. The angle was poor, but Cullen could make him out all the same. ‘Now, here a van pulls up.’_

____

_A nondescript white van crept up beside Fenris. It didn't stop within view and Fenris walked out of frame, looking at the van._

____

_‘What happened next?’_

____

_Zevran said nothing, letting the video play. For a minute or so nothing was moving, video seemed like it was paused and then the van came into view once more, driving the other way at a much higher speed than before, taking the corner sharply._

____

_‘That’s it.’_

____

_Cullen's breath caught. ‘What do you mean?’_

____

_‘After this, no matter where I checked, I couldn’t find him on any cameras.’_

____

_‘He got into the van?’_

____

_Zevran lowered his voice tactfully._ _‘Or was dragged into the van.’_

____

_‘Fucking hell,’ Lee breathed, all the blood draining from her face. ‘You got the plate?’_

____

_‘Yeah and I tracked it as far as the A2, but then I lost it heading South. It’s a white van, y’know? I don’t have the capability to track licence plates.’ Zevran gestured around his living room, incense burning, cartoons playing on a small black and white TV. ‘This is a small operation.’_

____

_Leliana grasped his shoulder._ _‘No, you did great. Thank you.’_

____

_‘Here’s the license plate. I hope it helps.’_

____

_She took the paper and got to her feet._ _‘Rosie, Bran, let’s go.’_

____

_‘Thanks,’ Cullen said quietly, his stomach a nest of vicious snakes. A van. A fucking van, Jesus Christ._

____

_Fenris had been taken._

____

_‘Anytime,’ Zevran replied easily._

____

_Cullen followed Leliana and the kids outside but paused in the hallway, feeling his pockets._ _‘I forgot my phone, meet you out there.’_

____

_Lee frowned but didn't argue. Bran was already asking dozens of questions in a loud, angry way and Rosalie looked on the verge of tears. Cullen turned back and headed into the door he’d left carefully on the latch._

____

_Zevran looked over his shoulder, not at all surprised._

____

_‘Want some more, yeah?’_

____

_‘Just-just to help me stay focused,’ Cullen said tightly, not quite meeting Zevran’s eye. ‘How much are they?’_

____

_Zevran tied the belt of his dressing gown and headed for the basket._ _‘I’ll do you a good deal, since we’re friends. You want the patches again or the lozenges? Got lollipops too, but you probably don’t want the kids getting confused.’_

____

_‘Just the patches.’_

____

_‘OK,’ Zev said with a shrug. ‘They’re weaker, but sure.’_

____

_‘How much?’_

____

_‘Fifteen quid a pop, normally, but because I’m such a good guy, I’ll do you five for thirty five, how’s that?’_

____

_Cullen was immediately wary of this supposed_ generosity _but it was a necessary evil. He needed it to stay focused, to find Fenris. After that, he wouldn't need it._

____

_‘Can I pay you next week?’_

____

_Zevran smiled._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘Fuck them,’ Bran spat bitterly when Cullen hung up with the police yet again. ‘Not conclusive enough, that’s bullshit. They just don’t care.’_

____

_‘We’re going to find him,’ Leliana said, plating up a dinner so basic that even Cullen - notoriously shite at cooking - felt bad for Rosalie and Branson, who were expected to eat it._

____

_‘How?’ Rosie asked quietly, staring down at the table. ‘The police don’t even think he’s been taken. No one has seen him. He’s just… gone. Like Mum and Dad, like Mia.’_

____

_Bran looked away, throat bobbing._ _‘I wish Mia was here. She’d know what to do.’_

____

_Leliana looked at Cullen then, the pair experiencing something similar in terms of_ failure _, though Cullen was confident he felt it more keenly._

____

_‘We’re doing our best,’ he told Bran, fingers tapping against the side of his mug, lip itching as pain began to crawl back in._

____

_Branson didn't say anymore, just pushed away from the table without having taken a bite._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_After a week, Cullen found that his left arm itched constantly, to the point where he_ _’d taken to slapping it hard instead of scratching. The patches were working less and less and so he no longer cut them up into little squares, rationing them throughout the day._

____

_He and Leliana went to The Crow and Kiln, asking around but no one knew anything. Leliana hardly ever ate and Cullen felt like he_ _’d been cut in half, every moment of the day not spent in distraction was locked in fraught, terrible imaginings of what might be happening to Fenris. If he was dead, if he was cut up into tiny cubes. Hurt, chained, raped. Cullen kept replaying the worst of it, heard himself leave that fucking voicemail on a loop._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris's eighteenth birthday came and went without him and Cullen lied about Lee’s car needing repairs to take money from the winter fund to pay Zevran. The lozenges were more expensive, but much stronger. Cullen found that if he coupled a patch with a lozenge, he could get through almost the whole day without feeling much pain. There was no more euphoria, that was long gone, but he could function if he had a lozenge and a patch._

____

_They followed leads here and there, rare times when someone would mention they thought they saw Fenris in London or Folkestone so they went to London and Folkestone, bunked the trains and didn't talk to each other the whole way there, both too rigid with a dangerous sense of hope that had to be kept at bay. They asked around, flashing his picture to everyone they could but no one knew anything, no one seemed to care._

____

_Bran was old enough to look after Rosalie now after school for an hour or so and Cullen threw himself into work, taking increasingly dangerous jobs that paid better while still working in the pub some nights. The manager let him work behind the bar now, pull a few pints here and there._

____

_He got bought drinks often. At seventeen, he was filling out slowly, manual labour and hardly ever eating had the combined effect of building his muscles while shedding all remaining puppy fat. His shoulders were broad, he let his hair grow longer, didn't give a flying fuck how he looked most days but it seemed to have the opposite effect of discouraging people. Men and women flirted with him, bought him drinks. He took the money instead, drinking water from a cleaned out bottle of Budweiser and smiling in a way that could not be further removed from any trace of happiness._

____

_It felt like they were living in a suspended reality, just waiting for news of Fenris so everything could go back to normal. Cullen couldn_ _’t really let himself think about it for too long, but he knew he was only half a man without him. Without his other best friend, he didn’t know how to do anything other than function and that was only because of Lee. He missed him every minute of the day, cried more than he ever had for his parents and not because there was a disparity of love, nothing like that._

____

_He cried because Fenris was out there somewhere and Cullen wasn_ _’t good enough to find him. He was somewhere, suffering and alone (Cullen could never bring himself to consider the alternative) and what was Cullen doing?_

____

_Sometimes he wished he could go and get into bed with Lee, just be close to her while he slept, like how they had when they were kids. All curled up in the same bed like kittens, laughing and pretending to snore. On rare occasions when he stood outside the door of what had once been Mia's room, her silence gave him pause. Maybe if he heard her crying, he could have gone inside but silence invited nothing and no one, so he returned to his own room, checking on Rosie and Bran as if they too might vanish from his life._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘He’s not coming back, is he?’ fourteen year old Rosalie asked eighteen year old Cullen. They were sat on Fenris’s old bed, surrounded by all his things they’d left untouched in what had once been a room for Mr and Mrs Rutherford. Cheap, single bed neatly made still, an old habit of his from the care home. Clothes folded in a pile, a few posters here and there of bands he liked. His shoes, his rucksack, cheap plastic watch that Cullen’s Dad had given him years ago._

____

_‘We’ll find him, darling,’ Cullen said, but it was the routine answer, same as always whenever she asked._

____

_‘I miss him so much,’ she said in a soft, broken sob. ‘I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know him and Lee. He’s always been there.’ She dropped her head in her hands, back shaking. ‘Why do people keep leaving?’_

____

_Cullen's mouth pressed in a thin line, ignoring the pain, and he blinked back tears of his own, hugging her. ‘We’ll get him back.’_

____

_She shook her head._ _‘It’s been nineteen months.’_

____

_‘I know, I know that. I’ll do better, I—Lee and I will find him.’_

____

_‘Bran said he’s dead.’_

____

_Cullen's instinct to say that Branson was_ wrong _barely stayed behind his torn lips._ _‘We can’t think like that.’_

____

_‘Promise me you’ll never leave.’_

____

_‘I promise.’_

____

_‘That means taking care of yourself as well as us.’_

____

_‘I know. I’m sorry.’_

____

_She hugged him tighter. Cullen didn't have to worry about her feeling the rustle of a patch. He’d traded lozenges and patches for injections a while ago. Mostly between the toes so they didn’t notice, but sometimes he was lazy and too in pain to fuck around with that so he shot up in his arm and wore long sleeves. It had been a long time since he’d had to tell himself it was all for Fenris._

____

_Now he didn't need a reason beyond simple_ need _._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen went to the Crow and Kiln sometimes, he sat at the bar and drank watered down coke, listening to the chatter. It was a rough place, even by Cullen's standards, even though the bar where he worked frequently experienced its share of trouble. That place was different. No one talked about a young man with a shock of white hair, no one mention Fenris, but they talked about disappearances sometimes. They joked about it, laughed about “some tart” who’d left the pub after blowing someone in the toilet and then never made it home._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘Please don’t.’_

____

_‘It’s all I can think of.’_

____

_‘I’m begging you not to do this. I can't lose you too.’_

____

_Cullen pulled the t-shirt over his head, just a little bit too tight, bit too revealing._ _‘I can’t think of what else to do. We’ve seen the van twice now, always making the route but we can’t follow it, can’t risk them catching on.’_

____

_He looked down at the thing around his ankle, flimsy piece of plastic, best they could afford from eBay. A tracking device for pets. It was only good within a couple of miles so Lee would have to follow him carefully. He had a trap phone in his pocket, something that potential kidnappers would throw, thinking (hopefully) it was his main phone but that was hidden in the back of his boot beneath a double layered sock._

____

_‘No,’ she said, voice trembling, arms wrapped around herself, watching him with dread and anger. ‘Cullen,_ NO!’

____

_‘I’ll do it without you, then,’ he said, yanking his jeans down over his_ _ankle, hoping it would stay hidden by the cuff of his boots._ _‘Get Zevran to follow me or whatever.’_

____

_‘Yeah, get your_ dealer _to save your life, that's a great plan!’_

____

_He froze, back to her, one hand on the door. The air was thick and hot, hurt his lungs and he hadn_ _’t shot up since yesterday, could barely afford what Zevran let him have these days. His mouth hurt, it always hurt, worse than it ever had really but it didn’t matter because only humans felt pain and he wasn’t human anymore, not without Fenris._

____

_If he could just get him back_ _… just do this one thing…_

____

_‘Fuck you,’ he breathed and slammed the door hard behind him._

____

_Cullen had barely made it out of the front garden before she followed him, pulling on his hand so he wheeled around and then she slapped him hard across the face._

____

_Pain like an atomic bomb exploded through his jawbone, his cheek, his mouth, his fucking skull. He reeled helplessly, nothing to be done but go where the pain led. Both hands over his mouth, ears ringing with the force of it plus a bright, burning agony that shredded his nervous system, brought tears to his eyes and stole his breath clean from his lungs._

____

_‘You selfish motherfucker,’ she panted, her tone wrung out like she was crying though he couldn’t see, eyes were still tight shut as if that would somehow help. ‘Think you can leave me the exact same way he did, headed off to the same fucking fate?! You_ bastard _, you don't get to leave me holding it all together! You hear me, Cullen?’_

____

_He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came up was bile. He couldn't think, couldn’t do anything but stand there with his hands over his mouth, stunned and utterly stupefied by the sheer, unprecedented agony of her slap._

____

_‘Oh… oh, fuck I— Cullen, I’m sorry.’ He heard her swift intake of breath, felt her hand on his forearm, bare and cold in the November night. ‘Christ, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I forgot.’_

____

_Slowly, he lowered his hands, half expecting to see blood from how much it hurt, but his hands came away dry, his face was not misshapen, no more than it already was anyway. His vision was blurred with tears and he couldn_ _’t catch his breath._

____

_‘’S’OK,’ he slurred, shaking himself. ‘Deserved it.’_

____

_‘No, you didn’t,’ she croaked. ‘I’m sorry.’_

____

_He took his hand in hers and held it tight, maybe too tight, but she didn't pull away and he tried to centre himself. The street was quiet, someone playing music a few houses down was the only sound beyond those of the night, of the cars in the distance and the gentle rustle of the wind in nearby trees._

____

_‘Please,’ he said, blinking tears down his face and even that hurt, that delicate trail awoke every nerve ending in his skin and sent vicious messages of agony to his nervous system. ‘Please help me do this. We can’t give up on him.’_

____

_‘What about the kids?’_

____

_‘We’ll be fine,’ came Branson’s voice from somewhere down the path, slightly out of the way. Cullen looked up, willing his eyes to focus. ‘I’ll take care of Rosie,’ Bran said, stepping forward, pale and determined. ‘Go.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen needed the drinks, was not even remotely part of his cover as he sat in the Crow and Kiln knocking back two fingers of gut-rot while his whole body_ demanded _he shoot up, get that fentanyl or even a little bit of heroin inside him. Sometimes Zevran gave him heroin. It wasn't a big deal, did much the same as the TNT, except it hit harder, hit_ deeper _. The difference between a punch and a slap._

____

_Though maybe not if the slap came from Leliana._

____

_He ran through what little money they could (couldn_ _’t) spare and tried to steady his hands, trembling violently as they were. He heard lewd comments. Hushed, dirty whispers about the boy at the bar who was just begging to be fucked or killed, the verbs seemingly interchangeable._

____

_He sat there all night until the pub closed and the man behind the bar ordered him out in a sharp, no-nonsense way._

____

_‘Might wanna get a cab,’ the man said as Cullen stumbled down the steps and out into the cold. ‘Not safe to walk these roads this late.’_

____

_Good._

____

_Cullen didn't leave right away, leaned against the walls of the pub for a while. During their recon trips, hidden in a garden across the way, the two times they’d seen a white van make a pass was always around midnight, just when the pubs shut._

____

_He leaned against the bricks and he waited, eyes closed, breaths laboured._

____

_When he heard the slow creep of a vehicle rolling nearby, he pushed away from the wall with exaggerated clumsiness and began walking the same path that Fenris had, wanting to be in the same blind-spot, entice them into taking him._

____

_And nearby, Lee was waiting in her car. Had the tracker ready to go. He hoped the batteries didn't give out or the signal became lost. Hoped he could be strong enough for Fenris._

____

_Hope was a piano wire around his heart and every step he took tightened that wire just a fraction more._

____

_He wasn_ _’t that drunk, not really. The alcohol at the start of the night had been to steady his nerves but now it had mostly worn off._

____

_Cullen didn't dare turn and look to see if the van was white, did not want to scare them off._

____

_He walked in a wobbly line, an uneven pace and he prayed to God that he was tempting enough._

____

_The van came to a stop beside him once he was in what he knew was the blind spot. He turned towards the sound of the noise, trap phone in hand as the side door slid open._

____

_‘All right mate?’ a friendly voice came. ‘You English?’_

____

_Heart in his throat, Cullen nodded, feigning drunkenness._ _‘Yeah, so what?’_

____

_‘Pretty, ain’t ya?’_

____

_‘Fuck you.’_

____

_‘Bit drunk, good shape though. You want a lift?’_

____

_Cullen rolled his eyes and shook his head like he was annoyed, like he didn't know better. Didn’t know that these were the people who’d taken Fenris. That they’d said he was_ pretty _._

____

_When it happened, it happened fast._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They blindfolded and gagged him once the van was moving, wrists cable tied while they searched him. He struggled weakly, weaker than he was capable of and their search was not thorough. They took his trap phone, but they never went near his ankles, had no need to because he didn't kick, didn’t do much beyond yell._

____

_They didn't touch him once he was secured, didn't talk to him and when he fell silent so did they. He never heard anyone else in the van who might have been in a similar situation. The radio played dimly in the background as they drove, songs that Cullen knew the words to, songs he’d sung with his parents. Songs that had his Mum putting hands over her heart, eyes filled with tears as she told him he had the loveliest voice, had to do something with it._

____

_The pain of being gagged was almost enough to cause him to pass out but he grit his teeth and held on, cramming down the paralysing fear. For Fenris, get Fenris, save Fenris. It was a rhythm, a pulse inside him. Pushing his blood around, keeping him conscious, keeping him going._

____

_Fenris was his heart, Leliana his blood. They were Cullen_ _’s anchor to what bravery he could scrape together, to any strength as he overcame the desire to scream for help, to give into panic. They were the fucking world entire to him as that nondescript van rolled through the night to places unknown._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_By the time the van stopped, he was calm and focused. The fear had settled into adrenaline and that adrenaline cooled his blood, gave him a kind of will-driven clarity that so often eluded him. He feigned partial unconsciousness when they hauled him out of the van, one at each end carrying him like he was a unit._

____

_Leliana would come for him, he believed that more than he believed in any God and it gave him strength._

____

_They stood him up and removed the gag and blindfold. Light stabbed the back of his skull and his jaw felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. He was in a large, dark warehouse and there were others. Men and women, roughly a dozen. They stood around, some with wide terrified eyes that darted nervously. Some were dazed and groggy. Two were still unconscious, slumped on the ground where they_ _’d been deposited._

____

_There were eight guys in total moving around and at the shuttered entrance where vans came and went, there stood two men on either side, not unlike bouncers except bouncers didn't usually have guns._

____

_‘All right, sort them.’_

____

_The men began a kind of sorting process that involved splitting the people - all of whom were no older than twenty - into three groups. Cullen was put with four others who were all physically similar to him; taller men who were reasonably well built, while other men who were shorter and skinnier were put into a group of five. Three women were grouped together, huddling close and one man still hadn't move from the floor, couldn’t be woken even when the_ sorters _toed him and yelled._

____

_A tall one crouched down and squinted._ _‘This one’s dead. OD’d by the looks of it.’_

____

_‘Waste of petrol,’ the man with the clipboard muttered. ‘Put him in the furnace.’_

____

_It took Cullen by surprise when his body heaved suddenly and he found himself pitching forward to be sick. It drew their attention which was the absolute last thing he wanted, but it couldn't be helped. While the young man on the floor was dragged away,_ Clipboard _approached Cullen, gaze roaming over him, cold and clinical, lingering on the crooks of his arms which Cullen had made no attempt to conceal._

____

_Appraising, it could be called._

____

_‘OK, soft induction for this one,’ he said, marking something down. ‘He’s already a junkie.’_

____

_Wiping his mouth, throat burning with bile, Cullen asked,_ _‘Where are you taking me?’_

____

_Clipboard stared at him, eyes like glass._ _‘Fighting,’ he said with a nod at Cullen’s group. ‘Fucking,’ he said, glancing at the girls. ‘And those ones, bit of both,’ he finished, gesturing towards the other, younger men, two of whom couldn’t be much older than Branson. ‘Consider yourself lucky. You’ll be top tier.’ He moved on to the guy besides Cullen. ‘This one—’_

____

_There was a yell from outside, something in a language Cullen didn't understand. All the men looked in the direction of the noise, alert and ready. When a shot was fired, they began to scatter_. _It might have been impressive, the way they silently dispersed,_ Clipboard _dropping his namesake without so much as a backwards glance. Cullen knew what it was, knew Lee had come through for him and brought the police, but he couldn't let_ Clipboard _get away. Fenris had probably stood in that very warehouse over a year ago._

____

_Cullen lurched forward and grabbed him, stumbling when the man tried to get free but Cullen didn't let go. He wrapped his arms around struggling legs and closed his eyes against the vicious desperate onslaught of blows._

____

_It was only when he felt strong, thin fingers wrapping around his wrists, Leliana saying his name over and over that he realised he could let go._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They wrapped him in blankets and made him tea in the police station while Lee explained only what she needed to, keeping the emphasis on Fenris. Cullen listened, drank the terrible tea and tried to stop his teeth chattering even though the blankets were thick and he was warm._

____

_‘We’ll do everything we can,’ said the officer who was dealing with them, PC Samson. He was all right, Raleigh Samson. Well known to be the most decent of the local units but Cullen didn’t care, had no patience for even the best of a bad bunch._

____

_‘Where is he? Did you question that one I grabbed, with the clipboard? Ask him where Fenris is, right now!’_

____

_Samson nodded._ _‘Yeah, we will. He has to be processed first, they all do.’_

____

_Cullen was staring._ _‘He took our friend.’_

____

_‘Yeah, looks like it.’_

____

_‘We came to you a year ago with this, you fucking—’_

____

_‘Cullen,’ Lee warned sharply and he bit his tongue hard, not out of any respect for PC fucking Samson, but because Leliana was the smart one and he trusted her implicitly. She’d followed him, followed the tracker and brought enough police to recover at least half the men operating from the_ sorting station _as he'd heard it called._

____

_Samson looked between them both, practised patience well in place._ _‘We’re doing everything we can. More people than Fenris have been taken, more lives are at stake than just his.’_

____

_Cullen closed his eyes and ground his jaw hard, revelling in the pain because otherwise he was going to do something very, very stupid._

____

_‘Fine.’_

____

_Samson sighed._ _‘We have your statement. Go home, get some rest. We’ll call you tomorrow.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Six more months passed._

____

_Mail came through the door for Leliana. Thick, cream coloured envelopes, offers from Universities that she didn't even open. Rosalie stacked them neatly in the kitchen, but not a single one was brought to light. Deadlines expired and she got a job in a local restaurant, bringing in regular money. She and Cullen rarely spent time together, the ghost of their counterpart looming large between them_

____

_A summer job washing dishes in a cafe kept Branson busy. He started dating but it never lasted more than a few weeks and when he passed a decent amount of GCSE_ _’s, he left school and took an apprenticeship with a couple of mechanics. He was still angry, still brittle and unreachable but Cullen could tell he was getting better at hiding it._

____

_A potential diagnosis for mild clinical depression was explained to Cullen in very basic terms while Rosalie waited outside the school therapist_ _’s office. They explained things to him that made his jaw clench, his insides writhe with self-loathing. The pair, therapist and form tutor, took turns explaining that his “exceptionally bright” sister was experiencing “consistent lows and lulls in energy, evident in her dropping grades”. They said it all while watching him levelly, with a calm implication of blame that was not misplaced._

____

_And for Cullen, there was only the slow, inevitable decline. Slipping lower every day, further and further from who he_ _’d once been, unable to stop and crawl back no matter how much he wanted to. He worked his body to the bone in mindless, menial labour, the kind that paid well. He hauled machinery and he lifted things, he destroyed things. He earned enough to keep them all afloat while still paying Zevran._

____

_He didn't take heroin often, only on bad days. Mostly it was a single shot of fentanyl in the morning, all he could afford and besides, he didn’t mind the pain so much now. The drug didn’t do anything good anymore. Hadn’t for a long time. He needed it just to survive, now. Without it, his body went into monstrous, murderous paroxysms that warned of incoming death. He took it just to stay alive, went to work and tried to act as he once had; brother to his siblings, friend to Leliana._

____

_He went every day to the police station, didn'’t care what Zevran warned him about, that some of their friends thought maybe he was a grass, maybe he was squealing about criminal deeds that Cullen couldn’t care less about. He went every day to ask about Fenris, but also to make sure they never forgot. That they never forgot a single fucking day how badly they’d let him down by not searching for him._

____

_Sometimes he wished he could wear his anger on the outside like Bran. Wished he could just burst out, let it loose and feel any measure of relief. It lived inside him, dwelt like a parasite, leeching his energy and his light._

____

_PC Samson_ _’s patience was frayed but it never snapped. One night he was clocking out when Cullen stood at the front desk, sweaty and filthy from a day hauling pallets, nothing but jeans, boots and vest in the height of summer. Samson rolled his eyes and demanded Cullen follow him._

____

_He took Cullen to a pub, a nice one, the kind that served food and had a garden. He bought him a coke even though Cullen was nineteen and Samson, at least twenty five and a fucking_ cop, _could have easily got him a beer._

____

_‘You know there’s a pool going,’ he told Cullen, sipping his cider while Cullen didn’t touch his drink, watched the condensation roll instead. ‘On how long you’ll keep coming by. Do you really think you’re helping?’_

____

_Cullen shrugged._

____

_‘You loved him.’_

____

_‘He’s not dead.’_

____

_‘Been two years. They’re usually dead.’_

____

_It was blunt, but not unkind. Samson_ _’s own version of honesty._

____

_Cullen lost his virginity all over again in Samson's car. The older man tasted of apples and mint, of experience. He was rough and Cullen_ loved _it. Begged for more of it, more pain, more of that knowing roughness. Hands pulling and hurting, distracting._

____

_‘Kiss me,’ he panted, breath fogging up the windows of the car._

____

_Samson hesitated._ _‘Your lip—’_

____

_Cullen crushed their mouths together as hard as he could, tears springing forth, a strange core of pleasure forming in the centre of all that agony. Samson fucked him hard and fast and Cullen vaguely knew it would feel better to fuck him instead, but he didn't care._

____

_He came before Samson, light forming behind his eyelids and it was fucking great or it had been, until he passed out._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It never went away, the lingering hope that one day, there would come a phone call. A knock on the door. Something. Some little sign of_ hope _. A lead, a clue, a trail to follow. Hope was a terrible thing, it really was._

____

_But after Samson took him home that night, pale and shaken, he said things to Cullen. Things that made him question his life, if not fully look around and despair the way PC Raleigh fucking Samson had intended._

____

_That next morning, Cullen shot up like always, but he decided to try not to think of Fenris anymore that day. He put more effort into his life with Rosalie and Branson, with Leliana. He pulled himself away from the ghost of his oldest friend and began to shoddily reconstruct what had been allowed to crumble and crack over time._

____

_Cullen made himself promise to let go of that hope. Told himself that next week he would clean out the room. Put his friend_ _’s things in the loft, in boxes. Could never, ever part with them, but… but the room was bigger than Bran’s and his brother could use it._

____

_Sometimes Leliana cried and Cullen would hold her, wishing he could cry too but he was numb inside. Numb and medicated and lost._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen would never be able to remember what he was doing when a knock came, but he would remember every single thing after that. The world came into focus once more, colour returned to what had been falling into sepia toned disrepair when Raleigh Samson stood there on his doorstep, eyes wide, cheeks flushed._

____

_‘Get your shoes on and call Lee,’ he said. ‘We’ve found him.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They had to pick Leliana up from work on the way to the station. It wasn't their local, a much bigger station in north London. Samson drove the same car he_ _’d fucked Cullen in but it couldn’t have mattered any less because Fenris…_

____

_Fenris was alive._

____

_Leliana came pelting out of her place of work when Samson bibbed the horn. She crashed into the backseat beside Cullen, panting._

____

_‘What’s—you’ve found him? Where is he? Is he OK?’_

____

_‘We’re going there now,’ Samson explained calmly, but Cullen heard the hesitation, heard the control. ‘He’s alive and he’s being assessed. I don’t know much beyond that he was recovered with a bunch of others in an underground fighting ring.’_

____

_‘A fighting ring? The fuck?’_

____

_‘Look, both of you need to prepare yourselves, all right? Officer who called me said he wasn’t in good shape. I’ve seen these fighters before, they’re not exactly pampered, understand?’_

____

_Leliana took Cullen_ _’s hand and they nodded in unison, impatient and fraught. Every time the car slowed for a traffic light, Cullen wanted to scream but Samson was taking them to Fenris and that was all that mattered._

____

_‘Were they OK about letting you leave?’ he asked Lee, knee jogging in a relentless rhythm as the car crawled through the roads of London._

____

_‘No,’ she answered flatly. ‘But who fucking cares?’_

____

_He said nothing, felt the same. Would have steamrolled anyone who tried to stop him going to Fenris too._

____

_It felt like hours by the time they parked up around the back of a massive, well outfitted station and Samson bade them follow and keep their mouths shut unless spoken to._

____

_‘I’ll vouch for you both, but don’t do anything stupid, all right?’ he said, looking mostly at Cullen._

____

_‘Yeah, of course.’_

____

_Grey hallways and that same sterile taste in the back of his throat, heart beating so hard it hurt, Cullen wondered if he could survive this being a dream. Wondered if he awoke and found that it had all been a feverish story woven by his desperate mind, would he actually be able to cope?_

____

_He didn't have to wonder much longer because they were led into a room with a two sided mirror, the kind Cullen had only seen in movies but they were on the good side, the cop side. Fenris was in the other room, staring blankly, calmly down at his hands. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, an untouched tea in front of him at the table._

____

_Leliana grabbed Cullen_ _’s arm, nails digging in. He understood, could barely breathe himself._

____

_The last time they_ _’d seen Fenris, he’d been seventeen. Now, at almost nineteen he was still entirely recognisable, but the differences were plain._

____

_‘They’re not sure what the markings are,’ Samson said quietly as two others in the room looked back, frowned. ‘White ink tattoos, maybe.’_

____

_‘These are for him?’ a woman asked and Cullen could instantly tell she was a detective, someone higher in rank than Samson._

____

_‘Yeah, I was called and told to bring them in.’_

____

_She nodded as they moved closer to the darkened glass._ _‘DCI Stannard,’ she said, giving each of them a cursory up and down glance. ‘I’m SIO of this case. His name’s Fenris, is it?’_

____

_Cullen shook himself and answered when Leliana, whose hand was over her mouth, did not._ _‘Y-yeah. Fenris Cohen.’_

____

_‘You’re sure that’s him?’_

____

_Leliana made a noise that got stuck in the middle of her throat, but it was a noise of disgust, half formed or not._

____

_‘Well, the on-site psychiatrist will brief you in more detail but I can tell you right now this one’s been through the ringer. We pulled him out of a place that we’re generously calling_ The Pit _. A kind of underground kennel for fighters._ _’_

____

_‘Is he hurt?’_

____

_Stannard nodded._ _‘Yes.’_

____

_‘But he’s—’ alive. ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’_

____

_‘That depends on you.’_

____

_‘Can we see him?’_

____

_‘In a minute. We’ve had him here for the last eighteen hours, he’s almost processed.’_

____

_Cullen_ _’s lip curled. ‘Eighteen hours?’_

____

_‘It took a long time to get a statement,’ Stannard said calmly. ‘He didn’t talk much at first, like he’d forgotten how.’_

____

_‘They’re done,’ the other man said as the two in the room with Fenris got to their feet. His gaze hadn’t moved from the table, had never flickered from the weirdly tranquil mask he seemed to be wearing. The marks were only visible going down his neck and just slightly peeking over the tip of his chin._

____

_‘We’ll bring him into a different room while we process him out. You’ll need to sign some things. PC Samson assures me that both of you are capable of taking care of him, will be available to bring him in as required.’ Her tone was stern, eyes steely._

____

_‘Yes,’ Cullen said, nodding quickly. ‘Of course.’_

____

_‘Good. Go sign for him and then speak with the Doc.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen signed blindly, didn't care if he was signing away his fucking soul, just wanted Fenris back, wanted to see him, speak to him, hug him. Make it better, make it right. Leliana scanned the documents to ensure they weren’t agreeing to anything especially horrific, but it was all boiler plate, she assured him._

____

_The psychiatrist was kind and practical._

____

_‘He’s been through enormous trauma,’ she explained. ‘Physical, emotional and psychological. We’re still piecing this together, but my understanding from the others we’ve spoken to, is that Fenris was sold into sexual slavery at first, then eventually passed off as a fighter due to his relentless nature. Fighters, from what we know of this kind of thing, aren’t usually expected to live more than a few weeks. Fenris survived two years, became a highly proficient fighter by all accounts. The purpose of these fights is purely for patrons to bet on. It’s all monetary, an insidious underground organisation. You’re with me so far?’_

____

_Holding hands, Leliana cleared her throat._ _‘Yes, please go on.’_

____

_The woman smiled and continued._ _‘He seems to have shock-induced amnesia which is not at all uncommon. He knew his name, responded to it after a few tries but many of the questions he was asked were confusing for him. I’m optimistic that with time and care, he’ll make a full recovery.’_

____

_‘What was done to him?’_

____

_‘He has extensive scarring, consistent with repeated injuries, the kind we see when methods of training are employed. Currently, he’s not in bad shape but the medic told me his jaw was badly fractured at some point and that he has cracked ribs. There are marks and injuries consistent with repeated abuse, likely daily and he’s been stabbed several times in the past, scars that have healed on his stomach and chest.’’_

____

_Cullen felt like he was falling, like he was falling from a gruesome height with no way to avoid the_ smack _of the pavement beneath._

____

_‘However,’ she went on. ‘Despite that, he’s in reasonably good health for someone in his position. I’ve seen people in far worse shape after a lot less time in one of these rings. He needs a more thorough examination at some point, will require x-rays and results from the blood tests but I’m optimistic that most of his injuries will heal.’_

____

_‘What about psychologically?’ Leliana asked grimly, throat tight._

____

_‘That’s a whole different aspect, of course. There will be a level of disconnect, at least at first.’ She sighed and looked down. ‘Had I the time or the resources, I’d try to prepare you both a little more, but I have this same speech to give to at least ten others coming to collect people in the next hour.’ When she looked back up, there was an element of pragmatism about her that reminded Cullen of Leliana. ‘The medical examiner informed me that he’s been repeatedly starved. This kind of thing will have a marked effect on his relationship with food, so you’ll need to ensure there is always a good, consistent supply. That’s important.’_

____

_‘Starved,’ Cullen echoed hollowly._

____

_‘Yes, likely part of the training. He’s not emaciated as you see, probably made sense to feed him more as he became successful, but,’ she inclined her head. ‘Food is a bargaining chip to these people. Be very careful not to ever leave him hungry, especially not if one of you is in a bad mood or whatever. You understand what I’m saying?’_

____

_Cullen looked at Lee, blinked slowly and found not much more comprehension in those green eyes than within himself._ _‘No, sorry.’_

____

_‘It’s OK, it’s a lot to take in. What I’m saying is, food has been held at arm’s length for a long time. Take care not to ever accidentally let him go hungry and certainly never for anything he could construe as punishment. He seems to me to be a very strong young man and as I said, I am optimistic about his recovery, but at some point, slavery becomes four walls and a roof. Two weeks of anything becomes routine and he’s been in this life for two years.’_

____

_Cullen still did not understand, but he was starting not to care what she was saying. This woman, these people, they didn't_ know _Fenris. They didn't know how strong he was, what he’d survived in the boys home, how he’d always taken care of Cullen. They didn’t fucking know him and he was becoming impatient with their psycho-babble bullshit, as if any of it applied to Fenris._

____

_‘Yeah, we understand,’ he said, squeezing Lee’s hand. ‘Can we see him now? Take him home?’_

____

_‘I’ve got some literature for you both, leaflets and if you have the time, there’s a couple of books which might be of some help further down the road.’_

____

_‘We’ll read them,’ he nodded, knee jogging up and down, jaw grinding over and over. ‘Please.’_

____

_She looked between them._ _‘If you have no other questions for the—’_

____

_Lee got to her feet, pulling Cullen up with her._ _‘No, we get it. Please let us see him now.’_

____

_The psychiatrist led them a few doors down into a small room with two of the most uncomfortable looking sofas Cullen had ever seen. Tiny grey things with hardly any cushions._

____

_On one, sat Fenris, still wrapped in the blanket. He was holding the edges of that blanket very tightly, keeping it wrapped around himself. Opposite, DCI Stannard was speaking to him and someone else was taking notes. They both looked over when the door opened, but Fenris didn't. He didn’t react, beyond staring down at the floor between them._

____

_Cullen could feel how much Lee was shaking, felt tremors roll through her whole body as they stood, hesitant and unsure. There were no mirrors in this room, no way of anyone else looking in and Cullen just wanted to tell them all to leave, but he waited, staring at his friend._

____

_Fenris had grown, that much was obvious. His jawline had filled out a bit, cheeks sharp and even more angular. Though it was difficult to tell with the blanket, Cullen could see he was muscular and lithe, no longer skinny like he had been the last time he_ _’d seen him. His hair was long enough to hang around his face, curling at the end. It was choppy and poorly cut, like it had been put in a ponytail and simply cut with scissors. Around his jaw, there was a rough band of pale stubble which Cullen had never seen before, had literally never once known Fenris to shave. Beneath the blanket, Cullen could make out clean, grey jogging bottoms, something the police had given him. He wore thick black socks underneath those with no shoes._

____

_‘Right,’ Stannard said, pushing to stand with a hefty sigh. ‘You’re taking him, then?’_

____

_‘Of course,’ Lee said. ‘Of course we are.’_

____

_‘You briefed them?’ Stannard addressed the psychiatrist whose name Cullen could not be remotely bothered to recall. He couldn’t wrench his eyes away from Fenris._

____

_‘I did,’ the woman behind them said. ‘Let’s give them a few minutes and then we’ll sign him out.’_

____

_Stannard swept past, pulling her blazer on._ _‘Good luck.’_

____

_They moved forward slowly, waiting for the click of a door before they let out the joint breath they both seemed to be holding._

____

_‘Fenris,’ Cullen said, the name tumbling out helplessly. ‘Fenris, can you hear us?’_

____

_Fenris nodded, a weirdly_ normal _thing but he didn't look up._

____

_‘Fen, it’s us,’ Leliana said, kneeling slowly and carefully in front of him. She didn’t touch him and neither did Cullen as he copied her._

____

_Their friend said nothing, staring down calmly at some fixed point on the floor. He seemed almost_ relaxed _, almost at ease. Only his knuckles gave him away. Only the jumping pulse in the hollow of his throat._

____

_Cullen swallowed hard, eyes stinging with tears he didn't want to shed. ‘Fenris, it’s Cullen and Lee. Can you look at us?’_

____

_‘Don’t,’ Fenris said and Cullen almost flinched, because he’d always had a deep voice, always had a lovely kind of drawl, but it was harsh now. It was low and baritone, roughly cut._

____

_‘OK. We won’t do anything you d-don’t want, but we… Fenris we want to take you home. Will you let us take you home?’_

____

_Dully, he nodded. Cullen couldn_ _’t be sure, wasn’t sure of anything anymore, but he thought maybe Fenris wasn’t aware of who they were._

____

_‘Fenris,’ he said in a stronger voice and Fenris_ flinched _. Actually flinched. It was small and it was subtle, but Cullen would never be able to forget it, the way it gutted him._ _‘Look at us.’_

____

_Slowly, reluctantly, Fenris lifted his light green eyes. He did so with the kind of hesitation that preceded dread, however well-hidden it was. Cullen knew Fenris too well not to catch every sliver of emotion as it played out behind a well-crafted mask._

____

_When at last he looked at Cullen, there seemed to be no reaction and Cullen despaired._

____

_‘Do you know who we are?’_

____

_Fenris stared through his mask, through a veil of indifference and neutrality and then he blinked. Once, twice. His throat bobbed and his lips parted._

____

_‘No,’ he breathed, fear splintering the facade. ‘No, what are you—what are you doing here?’_

____

_He looked at Lee then and the fear blossomed, tore at what walls he_ _’d had in place before. Nineteen year old Fenris’s face positively crumpled when he looked at Leliana and he fumbled with the fabric of the blanket; an aborted movement as if about to reach for her but thought better of it._

____

_‘Oh no,’ he croaked, something like panic choking him. ‘No, no, no, why are you here? I did everything right, I’ll do better, no!’_

____

_‘You’re safe,’ Leliana told him. ‘Fenris, you’re safe, you’re with us. Look, it’s me and Cullen. We’re here with you in a police station in London. You’re safe.’_

____

_He was devolving, spiralling into the kind of panic that Cullen knew a little something about. A hand around the lungs, gripping and squeezing. Primal, dark thing encroaching with the confidence of inevitability._

____

_Cullen blinked back tears and shored up what little strength he had left._ _‘It’s us,’ he said, very deliberately lifting his hand, slow and obvious, moving it towards Fenris, palm first. ‘And Lee’s right, you’re safe. Where they had you before, it’s all gone now. If you’ll let us, we’ll take you home.’_

____

_Fenris stared at Cullen, taking shallow, sharp breaths but Cullen could tell he was very aware of the hand._

____

_‘Cullen,’ Lee warned mildly, but she sounded uncertain and Cullen had to, had to reach out and let Fenris feel him. He just knew it would work, knew Fenris too well. Didn’t care if Fenris hit him,_

____

_Fenris had only been six when Cullen had first thoughtlessly taken his hand and dragged him along. Thirteen years later, the action was still familiar. Was imprinted into Cullen, the instinct to touch the few he loved, seek out reassurance with physical touch. Others didn't seem to touch that much, to hug and hold hands, but they’d always been different, right from the start._

____

_They were three trees, planted too close and left to lean into each other, pushed by the winds of the world. Impossible to untangle and the other two could not survive without the third, torn away and uprooted._

____

_Cullen swallowed over a thick, painful lump, his lip burning._

____

_Fenris lowered his gaze to the place where Cullen rested his hand over his own, still holding the edges of the blanket together, covering himself, but this close, Cullen could just about see his bare chest inside, saw the lines of the ink against his bronze skin, even in shadow._

____

_There was no flinch when Cullen touched him, only a shaky, shuddering exhale and when he looked up, Fenris_ _… Christ, it was all_ there _. It was all right there and Cullen did not need to ask how he felt, because he could read it, felt it, knew it._

____

_‘Cullen,’ Fenris whispered. ‘Cullen.’_

____

_‘Yeah,’ he managed, tears streaming. ‘It’s me.’_

____

_‘We’re not… there?’_

____

_‘No.’_

____

_Barely more than a breath, Fenris uttered,_ _‘We’re safe?’_

____

_‘We’re safe.’_

____

_Fenris adjusted his hold of the blanket enough so that one hand could creep out and find Cullen_ _’s. It was a strange, disjointed movement and three of his fingers were bandaged up like sausages. It rested over Cullen’s, couldn’t grip, but it was there._

____

_They leaned in unison, a mirror image of carefully colliding objects and Cullen wrapped his other arms around Fenris as he leaned up into the embrace. His heart was smashing against his ribs, everything inside him felt too big, far too big. It was hard to be restrained when all he wanted to do was kiss his friend all over, his cheeks, his hair, hug him and hold him tight forever, but Cullen held himself back. Held Fenris as much as the other man - and he was a man now, no denying it - would allow. Fenris leaned into Cullen, dropped his forehead to his friend_ _’s and though he was silent, his back moved under Cullen’s hand in a way that could not be mistaken._

____

_After a few seconds, Cullen heard him whisper,_ _‘Lee,’ and he finally let go of the blanket, extending his arm towards Leliana who was there in a split second._

____

_It was a sad, sorry scene. Fenris was hurt and he was marked. He wasn_ _’t himself and he wasn’t all right, but when Leliana joined them, when the three of them were finally reunited once more, no matter the world in which they found themselves, Cullen found that at last, he could breathe._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Raleigh Samson drove them back, Fenris sat in the back between them both wearing Cullen_ _’s long sleeve jumper. The PC hadn’t said anything, but Cullen knew he’d clocked the track marks on his arms when he helped Fenris into the car._

____

_The journey home was quiet and Fenris fell asleep at one point, sandwiched between the pair, hand wrapped in Cullen_ _’s, head on Lee’s shoulder. Samson looked back every now and then but he never broke the bubble. It was night by the time they got home, yellow streetlamps glowing like welcoming beacons as Samson turned into that familiar road, pulled up outside and got out to open the doors and offer help if it was needed._

____

_Fenris walked no problem, did not require any assistance, but Cullen was ready. Didn't let go of his hand, never wanted to ever again. They walked him inside._

____

_Fenris looked around the hallway, blinking slowly._ _‘Where’s the kids?’_

____

_‘They’re staying over at a friend’s house,’ Lee explained smoothly. ‘Just thought we’d give you a night to settle in.’_

____

_He nodded and carefully untangled his hand from Cullen_ _’s. ‘I uh, need the bathroom.’_

____

_Cullen nodded._ _‘Do you need…?’ Did he need_ what _? Help? Permission?_

____

_Fenris said nothing, looking around._ _‘It’s the same.’_

____

_It was. Through their many years living together, they_ _’d changed the walls and decor constantly. Leliana loved change, simply adored building up to a project, transforming the whole house with a fresh new colour scheme._

____

_Since Fenris had been taken, though, no one wanted to change anything. The hallway was still a dark sand colour, framed pictures on the walls wonky and old. Not a single picture had been taken in the last two years. Time lost and forgotten, a black hole that Cullen just wanted to forget._

____

_‘I’ll come with you,’ Lee offered, hand on the banister. ‘I need to go too.’_

____

_Fenris faltered for the first time, lips parting, breath catching._ _‘Actually,’ he said. ‘Could Cullen… uh.’_

____

_Leliana hid it flawlessly, any trace of hurt._ _‘Of course. I’ll make tea. Go on.’_

____

_Cullen and Fenris headed upstairs and Leliana invited Samson into the kitchen, pointing out that a cup of tea was the least they could offer when he politely tried to refuse._

____

_When Cullen went to close the door behind them, Fenris shook his head and so he left it slightly ajar instead._

____

_Fenris exhaled slowly._ _‘Sorry. I just… it’s. I don’t really, um.’_

____

_‘Hey, it’s fine. What do you need?’_

____

_Fenris closed his eyes._ _‘Just… don’t leave yet.’_

____

_It was a watery thing, Cullen_ _’s failed attempt to smile. ‘Never.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_At the door, Samson looked back and lowered his voice._

____

_‘Sort yourself out,’ he told Cullen flatly, no trace of pity in his expression. ‘Your family’s been through enough without me having to tell them you died of an overdose.’_

____

_Cullen resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, check Fenris hadn_ _’t heard, but he knew he was in the kitchen with Lee, knew that for now, at least, his secret was safe from his friend._

____

_His skin itched and crawled._ _‘I will, I’ll… starting tomorrow.’_

____

_‘Spoken like a true junkie.’_

____

_‘Fuck you, Raleigh.’_

____

_PC Samson shook his head and walked away._ _‘No thanks.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They told Fenris about the time in his absence. They told him what little positive things they had to share, precious few highlights, all of them circulating around Rosalie and Branson. Fenris listened and he let his tea go cold, untouched._

____

_‘You tried to find me,’ he said, nodding slowly._

____

_‘Yes.’_

____

_‘You never stopped trying to find me.’_

____

_Cullen_ _’s jaw worked, unable to put breath behind the lie because next week, he’d been planning to box up Fenris’s things and give the room to Branson. The last few months their efforts to find him had dwindled down to almost nothing, barely able to check in with the police let alone head out seeking fresh leads._

____

_In the silence that followed, Fenris looked around. He was wearing his own clothes, sweater that was too small, joggers that rode up high on his ankles. Cullen had watched him change, saw that those lines spanned his entire body. Elegant, almost tribal design of pure white ink that Fenris, despite catching Cullen staring, had not yet mentioned. He had track marks too in the crooks of both arms, similar to Cullen_ _’s but a darker shade and less precisely inflicted._

____

_‘I know you uh, you probably want to know what happened,’ he said quietly. ‘But I don’t remember. They said, back there, that it’s shock. I don’t remember much of anything, though I know it was bad. I know there was a place and it was dark. I know that I didn’t want you two there. I know it was bad.’_

____

_‘You don’t have to tell us anything.’_

____

_‘Lee,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Are you…?’_

____

_Leliana and Cullen shared a glance, neither knowing what he was asking._

____

_‘Am I what?’_

____

_He blinked rapidly, a sure sign of discomfort._ _‘Angry with me?’_

____

_‘Oh my God, no, of course not,’ she said in a strangled rush, looking to Cullen for backup. ‘No, I love you, I’m not angry at all.’_

____

_‘We both love you, so much,’ Cullen agreed, clunky but well-meant._

____

_It seemed to help._

____

_‘Did you…?’_

____

_She understood quickly, that time._ _‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’_

____

_‘No, it’s what you wanted,’ he said slowly, nodding. ‘I should have just agreed.’ He frowned. ‘Should have stayed.’_

____

_‘You’re back now,’ Cullen said firmly, reaching for his hand again, pleased that he returned the soft grip._

____

_‘Yeah,’ Fenris said. ‘I guess so.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They all slept in the same bed in Lee_ _’s room that night, squeezed into the single, squashed together like a litter of kittens, similar to how they’d slept as kids and yet wholly different. Fenris slept in between them, face buried in Lee’s neck and when Cullen kept thinking he should leave them, whenever he tried to move, Fenris’s hand would shoot out, grab his wrist and not let go again until Cullen wrapped his arm loosely around his friend’s waist and locked himself behind again, making Fenris secure._

____

_Covering his back, Cullen thought._

____

_Lee stroked his hair which was filthy and smelled of unfamiliar places, of smoke and oil, of blood and wet earth. He hadn_ _’t showered yet but there was time for that tomorrow. Time for all of it._

____

_When Fenris_ _’s breathing evened out, Lee’s eyes began to close and Cullen nodded at her, encouraging her to sleep. She reached out with one hand, carefully lifting it from Fenris’s shoulders and with the backs of her fingers, stroked the good side of Cullen’s cheek as tenderly as she could. Tears slid down the bridge of her nose and it was so quiet, he heard her swallow. He rested his hand atop hers for as long as he could stand it, pressure from the other side eventually reaching the fucked up nerves and poorly healed mess of his upper lip. When he pulled it off, he pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to her knuckles and settled it back atop Fenris’s shoulder where it belonged._

____

_She fell asleep soon after and despite his best efforts, the dual rhythm of their breathing lulled Cullen into unconsciousness soon thereafter._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris had nightmares which was completely to be expected. What surprised Cullen was how long it took for him to shake the nightmare off when they managed to wake him. Sat up in bed as the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, Fenris was dazed and very much confused._

____

_‘It’s—why are you here?’ he asked, rubbing his eyes and staring at Lee. The same sort of reaction came for him again, same as yesterday. An emerging panic attack. ‘No, no, please,’ he cried. ‘Why did you come? You shouldn’t have… oh God.’_

____

_‘No,’ Leliana said, the anchor to all things safe. ‘No, we’re safe. Look. We’re in my bedroom, see? There’s the curtains, the shelves. My books, look - the Necronomicon, remember that? Remember Cats of Ulthar? And look,’ she added, stroking his face. ‘It’s the poster you always hated.’_

____

_Fenris didn't look so Cullen rubbed his back gently and added, ‘The weird one, with the spiders.’_

____

_The man between them shot a startled look over his shoulder as if he hadn_ _’t realised Cullen was even there. He scrutinised the room, slow and wary as he sat upright, back against the pillows._

____

_‘Lee’s room,’ Fenris said to himself, still shaking. ‘You found me, then?’_

____

_Cullen_ _’s heart wrenched painfully in his chest. ‘Yeah, we found you.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Lee went to bring Rosalie and Branson home but she also went to talk to them before they came back, to prepare them._

____

_Fenris was not all right, that would be the basis of it._

____

_Cullen stayed, ignored calls from the yard, ignored a couple of calls from Zevran too. Lost two of his jobs and didn't care, made tea and winced at the idea of food. He still felt sick, stomach rolling constantly and the need for his morning fix was a heavy, wriggling thing inside him but he viciously denied himself. Took four codeine instead and jumped out of his skin when he turned from the kitchen cupboards to find Fenris standing there, silent and still._

____

_‘Jesus Christ!’ he gasped, hand over his heart. Fenris dropped his gaze quickly. ‘Sorry, my bad.’_

____

_‘It’s OK.’_

____

_Cullen tried to smile but his stomach was cramping hard, clenching and bubbling. He was hungry, knew it distantly but he didn't—_

____

_‘Oh, fuck,’ he said weakly, eyes widening. ‘Fuck. Fenris, I’m so sorry. Are you… um, are you hungry?’_

____

_Fenris_ _’s cheeks flooded with colour and he frowned, keeping his gaze strongly averted. ‘Yes.’_

____

_‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said, the most useless words in the whole fucking English language. Tears stung and burned and a sob escaped his dully throbbing lips. ‘I’m so sorry, shit.’_

____

_Fenris closed his eyes._ _‘It’s fine.’_

____

_He seemed more lucid now, remembered parts of yesterday, but not all of it. Didn't remember Samson, the ride home, the questions. He remembered them, Leliana and Cullen. For now, that was enough._

____

_Cullen went rifling through the cupboards with an inelegance that bordered on outright clumsiness, sending packets of noodles and that yellow rice the kids despised tumbling to the floor. He had nothing_ nice _, they never had anything nice and he hated himself then because maybe they could afford to buy better stuff if he didn't have a fucking_ drug habit _that drained a third of the money he broke his back for._

____

_He didn't realise he was crying until Fenris was touching him warily. Fingertips cautiously grazing his shoulders and Cullen turned, hand pressed over his eyes, painfully ashamed. If anyone should be crying, it was Fenris._

____

_‘It’s OK,’ his best friend said again, rough whisper in a deep voice. ‘It’s hard for me to ask, that’s all.’_

____

_‘It’s not OK,’ Cullen ground out, wiping his tears. ‘I should have checked, should have made food and had it ready for you. I should have—’_

____

_Fenris pulled him into a hug, much as he_ _’d done years ago. Cullen wrapped himself around a strong, steely frame and Fenris held him back, only slightly awkward, like maybe he’d forgotten how._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Branson and Rosalie were cautious and tearful, they kept back and maintained a personal bubble, but Cullen could tell they were both, regardless of age gap and individual personalities, desperate to run to Fenris. To the man who'd raised them alongside two others, the man who called Rosalie_ Rosie Rey _and had intricately plaited her hair for school most mornings while Cullen packed lunches and Lee checked homework._

____

_Bran cracked first. ‘Can we hug you?’_

____

_Fenris, who_ _’d been standing beside Cullen, managed his first wobbly smile and opened his arms to them both._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_He showered alone, Cullen waiting outside the bathroom, back to the wall, listening for any signs of distress. Lee sat across the landing, legs out in front of her, both of them unable to be away from him for long._

____

_Skin and hair clean, he looked more like himself, but with a towel around his waist, it was impossible to ignore the damage done to him. Thin, precise lines streaked out in every direction along his back. Whip marks, maybe. On his chest and stomach, three small lines. Stab wounds, like the psychiatrist had said. Other scars were scattered here and there, some marring the delicate, bright white lines tattooed into his skin. Fenris dropped his gaze, a habit whenever he was uncomfortable, Cullen realised._

____

_‘The uh, top is too small for me.’_

____

_‘Yeah, let’s get some of my stuff,’ Cullen said pushing away from the wall. ‘One of us will go shopping later, get a few things if you like, more your size.’_

____

_Fenris didn't want that. His silence spoke volumes so Cullen let it go and Leliana found him an outfit, raking through Cullen’s drawers._

____

_‘Here,’ she said, handing him the clothes. ‘Do you want us to—’_

____

_‘No, stay,’ he said and after that, neither Lee nor Cullen asked again if he wanted privacy. He never closed doors all the way, never shut himself in and he didn’t blink when they followed him around for the rest of the day._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was a weird day spent tiptoeing around each other, around Fenris. They watched TV, but sometimes Fenris looked down, blinking rapidly and Cullen didn't know what to do. He kept the volume low and made sure that either he or Leliana were touching him at all times. He seemed most calm when they were, like contact was a tether. Sometimes Branson shot the three of them a small, confused frown, eyes lingering on the points of contact._

____

_When Fenris fell asleep leaning against Leliana on the sofa later that afternoon, Cullen stole away, padded out into the kitchen and Bran followed him._

____

_Cullen sighed and pushed the door shut gently. He knew what Bran was going to ask, knew what his brother was about to say. It was a whole avenue Cullen did not want to discuss, mostly because the idea of anything sexual between the two people he considered to be his own blood was impossible, but he knew he had to try that much harder with Branson, couldn_ _’t risk alienating him when things between them were already so fraught and fragile._

____

_‘You OK?’ he asked, stalling for time but determined to answer whatever Bran was about to ask truthfully._

____

_Bran shook his head and Cullen sighed._ _‘It must be confusing, I should have explained beforehand about—’_

____

_‘You never hug me.’_

____

_Cullen’s throat caught painfully, words dying there._ _‘What?’_

____

_Moodily, Branson rolled his eyes._ _‘Yeah, maybe you don’t notice. You hug Rosalie all the time. Same with them. You hug and kiss and hold their hands, sleep in the same bed and I’m…’ Branson huffed, jaw flexing. ‘It’s like I’m not even here.’_

____

_‘You are,’ Cullen said, starting forward, astonished. ‘Bran, I’m so sorry. I never thought—I just, I didn’t want to make things worse between us.’_

____

_‘By staying away?’_

____

_‘You were always so angry with me.’ Cullen floundered, truly. ‘I…’_

____

_‘Yeah,’ the younger Rutherford said. ‘I know. I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to, y’know. You can. I know I can be a prick and all, but I—’_

____

_Cullen didn't waste another second, didn’t even let the sentence form. Yanked his little brother into a crushing hug, squeezing him for all he was worth. ‘You’re not,’ he told him, blinking back yet more tears. ‘It’s_ me. _You're brilliant.’ He shook Bran slightly then. ‘Mum and Dad and Mia would be so fucking proud of you. You hear me?’_

____

_Branson gave a small laugh, tinged with sadness, the only kind Cullen heard anymore._ _‘Yeah, I hear you, tosser.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_A week went by in such a way. Same bed, all three. Fenris between them. Nightmares, fractured words and low, deep cries until morning came and without fail, Fenris had forgotten where he was. He panicked when he awoke to find Lee and Cullen with him. Had to be soothed and talked through it, reassured that they were home together and not elsewhere._

____

_Samson dropped by a couple of times, casually checking up on Fenris but Cullen made sure to wear long sleeved tops to cover his fresh track marks, ashamed of his addiction but needing the drugs to get through each day._

____

_The third time Samson_ dropped by _, he had the blood test results and the officially compiled report for what had happened to Fenris. It sat in a brown folder with a label on the front._

____

_‘I didn’t read it,’ Samson said and Cullen believed him. ‘But they told me it’s what they pieced together from the others, from those who talked to avoid a long stretch inside. They need you to read it and sign if you agree that it provides an accurate account of what—well, of what happened.’_

____

_Fenris nodded, wearing Cullen's clothes still. He didn’t speak and Leliana took over swiftly. ‘We’ll drop it off tomorrow, thanks, Raleigh.’_

____

_‘Hmm, no problem,’ he said, gaze lingering a moment on Cullen before he left._

____

_The three of them stared at the file until Fenris sighed._

____

_‘Can you two…’ he said, leaving the sentence unfinished as he so often did now. In all fairness, he didn’t_ have _to finish it for them to know what he wanted, for his best friends to intuit his needs._

____

_Cullen pulled it towards him carefully while Lee scooted closer._ _‘You’re sure? You want us to read it?’_

____

_‘Yeah, I don’t want to know,’ Fenris said, looking out of the kitchen window, cool, grey light of spring shining down on a garden that had been so badly neglected it was barely more than a green clump of weeds. ‘Just read it and then I’ll sign wherever.’_

____

_The toxicology report was first. Cullen didn't understand the results, but beneath a list of words with far too many letters was a handwritten note which read,_ ‘confirmation with witnesses and test results of equipment on sight confirm routine use of beta-adrenergic receptor blockers with benzodiazepines to cause and maintain amnesia, most likely administered first thing in the morning.’

____

_Leliana cleared her throat and turned the page._

____

_After that, it was seemingly endless paragraphs of cold, clinical assertions. Witness reports pertaining to Fenris and his time there. The whole two years, laid out in black and white and, to Cullen’s senses, red. A horror story in long-hand scrawl._

____

_Leliana’s hand stayed over her mouth, but otherwise her reactions were minimal. Cullen couldn_ _’t take it all in, couldn’t process what he was reading. Little pieces stuck out here and there, but he tried not to linger, knew that Fenris was watching them._

____

_When he closed the file, it was difficult to breathe. He was hot all over, armpits stinging and his head swam. From start to finish, it was a complete shit show. Things he never wanted to know about, let alone imagine had happened to his best friend._

____

_‘Done?’ Fenris asked shortly._

____

_Cullen nodded while Leliana took a deep breath, finding the page he needed to sign._ _‘Just this bit here,’ she said. ‘Sign and date.’_

____

_He picked up a pen, held it awkwardly and then looked at them both, expression blank._ _‘What… is the date, again?’_

____

_‘October third,’ Cullen said and then casually added, ‘Twenty twelve.’_

____

_Fenris signed, dated and then sat back, staring out of the same window._

____

_‘You’re nineteen now,’ he said. ‘I never knew you while you were eighteen. Lee, you’re twenty. You’re not a teenager anymore. I missed that time. I’ll never get it back.’_

____

_‘We have all the time in the world, now,’ Lee said, closing the file. ‘We’ll make up for it, I promise.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_‘We have to,’ Leliana said quietly. ‘You know we have to.’_

____

_Fenris was asleep between them, the sounds of Branson watching TV in his room down the hall providing a little white noise cover in the otherwise quiet, night-time house._

____

_‘I can’t leave him alone,’ Cullen said and it was the absolute, awful truth. ‘I can’t.’_

____

_‘It’s been two weeks. Even if we both claim benefits, you know it’ll never touch the sides. We have to go back to work, find jobs.’_

____

_Cullen tightened his arm around Fenris_ _’s waist a little more, a strangely primal fear rearing its head. He couldn’t cope with the idea of leaving Fenris alone. Branson was out most days at his apprenticeship, Rosalie was in school or revising in the library for her GCSE’s. Fenris was listless, he was tired constantly and more often than not, he fell asleep between them even if it was daylight._

____

_Leliana seemed to read his mind as usual._ _‘What if we do it in shifts? I’ll work nights, you work days, that kind of thing?’_

____

_Bills were stacking up, the rent was overdue. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was harder for Cullen to get a job because the foreman from the yard had trashed his name to others of the same field, called him unreliable and blacklisted him from all the best paying jobs._

____

**You owe me nine hundred _,_** _came a text from Zevran._ **Can** **’t let you have any more until we’re square. Hope Fenris is OK. Call me.**

____

_Cullen stowed his phone, searching for strength and finding fuck all. He took the first job that agreed, promising to start that night. Janitorial work, cleaning the local colleges by night, but he didn't give a shit, would have done anything. He text Lee to tell her that whatever work she could find would need to be during the day and he walked the shorter way home, unable to afford the bus._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris never really went through a physical withdrawal of whatever it was they were giving him each morning, but after a month, when he awoke now, Cullen didn't have to reassure him of where he was, remind him that he’d been back with them for a while. Fenris was starting to build new memories, something that he hadn’t been able to do very well up until then._

____

_It led to a very sharp, very deep decline in his mood and the depression Cullen had been waiting for; the emotional backlash from every horrific thing he_ _’d endured but could not remember, finally set in._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Every day was a new struggle._

____

_Cullen made mistakes with food. He forgot to offer it sometimes, got distracted. Fenris took it personally, didn’t seem to be able to help it. Having to ask for food was pure torture for him and Cullen wanted to smack himself anytime Fenris, gaze averted, would grind out that awful request._

____

_Once, Cullen irritably suggested that he make it himself if he was hungry. His skin was crawling, bones itching and his head was pounding in the worst possible way, but when he glanced at Fenris, he did a double take to see the physical reaction his mild outburst had caused._

____

_He never wanted to see that ever again, the way Fenris was tensed up, face bloodless and eyes closed tight, expecting… something bad._

____

_From then on, Cullen and Lee made sure there was always something pre-made, something nearby and they sent each other reminders to offer food once an hour until it became second nature._

____

_Loud noises caused a bodily reaction from Fenris. Too much silence made him uneasy, triggered something like a panic attack. Twice he became so wound up that he lashed out at Cullen, one time backhanding him across the face accidentally and causing Cullen_ _’s nose to bleed, pain in his mouth positively overwhelming._

____

_When he hit Cullen, he cried. It was a silent, awful thing and Cullen felt worse about it than Fenris did, he was sure._

____

_Fenris_ _’s instinct was to retreat but Cullen and Lee did not let him. Had decided early on that whatever it was, he couldn’t be left alone to cope with it. They stayed with him while he trashed his room, helped him tidy it afterwards, holding him when he cried and gave up because he couldn’t focus for long periods of time on a single task._

____

_The lowest day came six weeks after his return when Cullen had a sick, cold feeling in the base of his stomach waiting outside the bathroom for Fenris to finish his shower and when he opened the door, he saw Fenris on the floor, razor blade held a few inches above his right wrist. He was expressionless and calm. Empty._

____

_Cullen fell slowly and carefully to his knees, reaching for the hand holding the blade and Fenris let him. Looked up through blurry eyes as if seeing Cullen for the first time._

____

_‘Help me,’ he said._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was an uphill battle to get therapy on the NHS, despite the circumstances. Fenris was put on a waiting list and offered all kinds of anti-depressants in the meantime that he, unsurprisingly, refused. Leliana, who_ _’d been taking one such brand for the last year or so, pushed a tiny bit for him to reconsider but he was unmoved._

____

_‘I think maybe we should go for a run,’ Cullen said one Saturday morning, arm still stinging from the pathetic amount of fentanyl he’d shot up less than an hour ago. ‘What do you think?’_

____

_Fenris, who woke up increasingly agitated and restless these days, looked at Cullen then. The weight of their past between them; of a smaller, younger Fenris offering to show Cullen how to run fast, run like they were being chased._

____

_‘Not today,’ he said, gaze sliding down._

____

_Cullen took a deep breath._ ‘Yes _, today._ _’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris outran Cullen after a few minutes around the track at the park. Ran fast in a pair of Cullen_ _’s dad’s shoes. Cullen was running flat out, but he couldn’t keep up. Fenris was unreachable and when he passed Cullen on the second lap, he nudged Cullen and laughed for the first time in two and a half years._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They ran every day, mostly in the evenings just before the sun set and Cullen_ _’s night shift would start. Fenris could run five miles without stopping, then six, then eight. He ran and he smiled when he stopped, bent double, hands on his knees._

____

_Fenris_ _’s track marks faded. Cullen’s did not._

____

_Soon, running wasn_ _’t enough. He did push-ups in the morning when he untangled from whoever he’d slept curled up with. He did crunches and sit ups, but like the running, it was never quite enough._

____

_He wound strips of old material around his knuckles and Cullen held up make-shift pads. Leliana sat on the back doorstep, watched with Rosalie on her lap and sometimes even Bran as Fenris punched the pads, his skill undeniable. absolute. It evolved into an impressive and fluid style of kick-boxing. That then evolved into the need for a punch-bag that wasn_ _’t always Cullen and his poor hands behind old sofa padding and some cardboard._

____

_It had been four months when Fenris brought down the sheets and covers from his own bed, untouched for almost three years, and washed them with quiet purpose. He slept on his own that night and though Leliana stayed awake all night long, texting Cullen frequently while he cleaned the hallways and classrooms of kids who hadn_ _’t dropped out of school, there was no need. Fenris slept all through the night, alone._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_There were relapses, days when something dark and awful overcame him. He hardly ever remembered things, but the sense memory of certain aspects of his time_ away _came for him sometimes. Crept up and gripped him around the throat, that's how he described it. On those days, he didn’t run and he didn’t box with Cullen. He took to the bag and he stayed there. He had proper gloves now, Branson had brought him some for his birthday and they were all that prevented his knuckles from splitting and turning the grey cloth red._

____

_On bad days Fenris pounded the bag, sweat pouring, frown deeply ingrained, his mind lost to the terrible phantom memory of things he couldn_ _’t cope with knowing._

____

_That knowledge sat inside Cullen and Leliana, they bore it so he didn't have to. Held it there like sentinels of a monster, caged and contained, should the day ever come when he wanted to_ know _._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_On the three year anniversary of the day he was taken, Fenris asked Cullen why he had the marks. It was the first time he_ _’d ever asked anything and Cullen faltered, unsure of how to proceed._

____

_‘I just… don’t remember and they hurt sometimes,’ Fenris said, filling Cullen’s panicked silence._

____

_And there were probably better ways to say it, but Leliana was working and the kids (who were barely kids anymore) were both out so it fell to Cullen._

____

_‘They’re tattoos,’ he began slowly, trying to choose each word the way Lee might have. ‘Identifying marks individual to the… group that were holding you.’_

____

_Fenris looked at his hand, didn't wince when he stretched it, but Cullen knew the marks hurt sometimes. ‘Why are they white?’_

____

_‘It’s a special kind of white ink. It uh, glows under UV light.’_

____

_Cullen waited for any additional questions, doing his best to be the strong one, to be whatever Fenris needed but no more questions came. He just nodded and looked away and Cullen wished that awful day would just fucking end._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_They were squirrelling money away, both of them. Fenris and Leliana. Even Rosalie, who worked evenings watering plants and feeding pets while people went on holidays, and Bran whose apprenticeship was morphing into something on a semi-regular paid basis, they were putting money aside too. They had one main account they all used, sharing the card between them as it was needed._

____

_Money was being set aside and no one told him what for. A small curl of worry twisted in his gut sometimes, but he knew when it became something he needed to know, they_ _’d tell him._

____

_And anyway, was it really his business if they were squirrelling money away? He was one to talk, garnishing his own money to keep his habit going and keep Zevran from threatening to get_ people _involved if Cullen's debt ran too high._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris and Bran swapped rooms and spent two whole days moving everything, getting rid of a lot of stuff too. Some of it went to the tip, some of it - Branson's old stuffed toys and clothes found behind drawers from when he was positively_ tiny _\- Cullen boxed up and kept, took it up into the loft. Of the many sacks of crap up there, he spied something at the back. His Mum's old guitar, the one Mia had once sat on and cracked the neck of._

____

_Cullen picked it up carefully, all manner of squealing and laughter coming from below as the moving efforts turned into some kind of play fight between Rosie and Bran. The neck was cracked, but not completely. Half of the wood was splintered but it was still attached. He frowned at it, rubbed dust off of the bottom where his mother_ _’s initials were carved into the wood._

____

_No one noticed when he brought it back down and if they did, they never commented._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Rosalie got eight A_ _’s and one C. She signed up to stay on for sixth form, taking biology, health and social care and psychology. Cullen was so fucking proud of her, couldn’t stop spinning her around the day she came flying home with those paper results. They went out to celebrate and Fenris insisted on coming along too, the first time he’d gone anywhere that wasn’t the garden or the park._

____

_They went to their local Wetherspoons, sat together at the table and when the waitress took their drink order, she winked at Lee as she walked away._

____

_Cullen scratched his forearm subtly under the table, watching Rosalie scan the menu with a small frown. They almost never ate anywhere with a menu and he knew she was trying to find the absolute cheapest option._

____

_‘Get whatever you want,’ he told her, nodding earnestly. ‘This is your night, sweetheart.’_

____

_She smiled beautifully, but still chose something cheap._

____

_Leliana, however, was having none of it. When the waitress came round, she ordered massive deluxe burgers for everyone, extra chips and onion rings for the table. Cullen shot her a quizzical look, but she simply shrugged. He wondered if this was what she_ _’d been saving the money for, but he tended to doubt it. No one was better with money than Leliana. They pooled their money, but she was the one who made it stretch, who paid the bills, the rent._

____

_They chatted about Rosie_ _’s GCSE’s for a while. About which subjects had been hard, which were easy. What her friends got, how fucking amazing her future was looking. And when there came a lull, Fenris sat back and surveyed the table._

____

_‘So, what’s new with everyone?’_

____

_Cullen laughed into his coke, found it funny because he couldn_ _’t think of five people who were more involved in each other’s lives._

____

_Except Bran said,_ _‘I’ve got a girlfriend.’_

____

_‘You have?’_

____

_Bran nodded, rubbed the back of his neck. It reminded Cullen of his Dad, of himself, that nervous gesture, unconsciously made._ _‘Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a few months.’_

____

Months _?_

____

_‘Oh,’ Cullen said, glancing across the table at Lee and Fenris as he was wont to do. ‘Right. Well, are you going to bring her round? So we can meet her.’_

____

_‘You’d be OK with that?’_

____

_‘Of course I would, we all would.’_

____

_‘Absolutely,’ Lee said quickly, always the backup. ‘Bring her whenever you like.’_

____

_‘It’s just…’ Bran trailed off, frowning, nervous. ‘We don’t really do outsiders, do we?’_

____

_Cullen didn't know what the fuck to even say to that and luckily he was saved by enormous plates of hearty food being set in front of them. Massive, sizzling burgers trapped between glazed brioche buns filled with sauce, salad and crisp, thick onions. He looked at the food, forgetting all about Bran for a second because fucking hell, when was the last time food had smelled_ good _? His stomach growled and clenched, demanding that food get into his mouth somehow and Cullen was lost but to agree._

____

_Fuck, he was_ starving _for something delicious._

____

_But instead of digging in, he looked up at Bran who was watching him carefully, and asked all about his new girlfriend._

____

_The meal was incredible and Cullen almost wanted to cry because the difference between_ that _and what he made day after day was stark. The bill came, laid on the table by the same waitress Lee seemed to know. Cullen's eyes widened at the amount, expensive even for a Wetherspoons._

____

_Leliana took a twenty pound note from her purse and laid it on the little black tray._

____

_‘That’s not enough,’ Fenris pointed out quietly._

____

_Lee smirked, all knowing as always._ _‘It’s for her. She’ll take that for herself and say we dined and dashed. This table is in a blind-spot when it’s busy. They’re insured.’_

____

_‘How do you know that?’ Rosalie asked, fascinated._

____

_‘I know a lot, darling,’ she told her with a positively smug smile._

____

_‘Awesome,’ Bran said, grinning like he was a thirteen year old kid again._

____

_‘Just this once,’ Cullen warned sternly, but he was half grinning too. Fuck, the food had been amazing. What a difference it made._

____

_‘All right, everyone ready?’_

____

_Fenris linked arms with Leliana as they walked through the doors without a backwards glance._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen found out what the money was for when spring began to verge into summer._

____

_‘The fuck is Camp Beaumont?’ he asked, staring down at the leaflet as if Lee had plonked something hideous and vaguely alien in his hands._

____

_‘The clue is in the name, genius,’ Fenris said, traipsing back inside from the garden dripping with fresh sweat. ‘It’s a summer camp for these two.’_

____

_Bran and Rosalie were watching him, carefully neutral and Cullen felt all of a sudden like he had walked into something without realising it._

____

_‘We’re not American.’_

____

_‘They have summer camps here too,’ Lee said, ironing her uniform for work, the front desk of a Premier Inn. ‘We’ve been saving up, thought it’d be nice.’_

____

_Leliana so rarely lied to him that it was impossible not to notice it. He looked down at the brightly glossed paper; teenagers romping, posing with big smiles and dorky helmets._

____

_‘Well, that’s… great,’ he managed, glancing inside and regretting seeing the price. ‘Can we uh, afford this?’_

____

_‘Like I said, we’ve saved up. I’ve got a couple of friends who work there. They’ll keep an eye on them, make sure they get best pick of all the activities, the food, the lodges.’_

____

_Cullen didn't want to be suspicious, he really didn’t, but they were lying to him about something, he just didn’t know what yet. Delicately, he set the leaflet down._

____

_‘Sounds great,’ he lied right back._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_There wasn_ _’t any logical reason to feel nervous about his younger siblings packing up some stuff, wedging it into old frayed backpacks and heading off for a month. God knew they’d earned some fun, some carefree time to go off and do normal kid things, even though Bran was seventeen and they’d had to lie and say he was 16 to even get him in. Cullen knew he wasn’t being rational when he kissed them goodbye a few too many times, hugged them too long and had a lump in his throat when he told them to have an amazing time and to check in every day._

____

_They got on the coach and headed to the back, Cullen_ _’s chest tightening, instantly worried that some of the other kids on the bus might be mean, might not talk to them._

____

_Then he remembered how incredible his siblings were. How self-sufficient and strong they were and he realised the panic was mostly for himself._

____

_Because when he turned back to Lee and Fenris, they were most definitely plotting something._

____

_The drive home was quiet, Fenris sat in the back watching the world go by. Cullen felt almost nervous, his skin prickling in warning._

____

_Back inside the house, Fenris put the kettle on while Leliana took a deep breath, eyes closed and Cullen suddenly felt very, very stupid because all at once, he knew exactly what it was._

____

_‘We’re going to help you,’ Lee said. ‘We’re going to help you kick this, Cullen.’_

____

_And although they were words he told himself in some form or another at least once a week, his back went up right away._

____

_‘I don’t need help. It’s pain management.’_

____

_Fenris stirred three teas._ _‘We’re not going anywhere and neither are you. We saved enough for camp, but also to keep things going while both you and Lee are out of work for a few weeks, whole month at a push.’_

____

_Cullen thought very fast. He smiled and laughed as casually as he was capable given that he was terrified._ _‘You guys, you’re the best, honestly. I can’t believe you’ve been planning this, saving up for it. You’re both amazing. It’s so great for the kids, though, They deserve to go off and have fun, but this,’ he gestured between the three of them. ‘It’s not necessary. I should have told you, Fen,’ he added, nodding thoughtfully. ‘I made it seem like a secret but Lee already knew and I assumed she would have told you it was for my lip.’_

____

_Leliana took her tea._ _‘I know everything you’re going to say, Cullen. I heard it all from my Mother plenty of times. We’re not going to lose you to this. We’ll kick it together, no matter what.’_

____

_He arranged his features into baffled amusement, sweat beading at his temples._ _‘That’s a line from a movie, right? What, you gonna lock me in my room, baby on the ceiling too? It’s pain management, I could get it from a doctor, but this is just easier. Fentanyl is literally a pain management drug.’_

____

_‘You’re in pain all the time,’ Fenris pointed out evenly._

____

_‘Nothing like how it will be without this.’_

____

_‘Yes,’ Lee said. ‘It’s called addiction.’_

____

_‘I’m not… that’s not right.’_

____

_‘You’re an addict,’ she said, fingernails tapping against her mug. ‘And it’s my fault as much as yours. I let it happen, didn’t stop you, didn’t know how to when we were alone.’_

____

_‘But I’m back now,’ Fenris said quietly. ‘And it can be about you for once, Cullen.’_

____

_‘We spoke to a couple of doctors. The corrective surgery would require two weeks of inpatient care but they can’t take you if you’re drying out. You need to be clean.’_

____

_‘I’m not an addict.’_

____

_‘Look at your arms.’_

____

_‘Diabetics inject themselves every day.’_

____

_‘You hide it from the kids, from us.’_

____

_‘I don’t want to wave needles around, is that so—’_

____

_‘Enough!’ Fenris’s voice rang out through the kitchen where so much had happened, where so many decisions had been made and tears had been shed. ‘We love you and we’re drawing a fucking line in the sand. The kids aren’t here, money will hold. No more, Cullen.’_

____

_Fear turned hot, morphed quickly into anger._ _‘And if I decide to leave? Walk out the door?’_

____

_‘Where would you go? We paid your debt to Zevran and told him if he ever deals to you again, we’ll shop him in. He’s not going to give you anything. Let us help you.’_

____

_‘I don’t need help. Do you see me on the floor with a needle hanging out of my arm? I get up, I go to work, I do my best.’_

____

_‘You’re a functioning addict, yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re_ not _an addict and this shit will kill you. Rot your brain, melt your insides and stop your heart. Today, tomorrow, five years’ time.'_

____

_‘I can leave,’ Cullen spat, though he wasn’t moving. ‘I can_ go _._ _’_

____

_‘I’ll stop you,’ Fenris said calmly. The threat hung in the air between them, two against one and Cullen wasn’t used to it._

____

_‘You wouldn’t.’_

____

_‘We both will.’_

____

_‘Why?’_

____

_‘Because nobody loves you like we do.’_

____

_It was spoken plainly, no affectation to it. Plain and bare and true._

____

_Cullen ground his jaw, relishing the pain as his eyes flooded with tears. His body itched and his stomach rolled._

____

_But despite the flight instinct, despite the nagging voice at the back of his skull that warned him to flee, he_ wanted _to be clean didn't he? It was something that a part of him, outlier of his own consciousness, desperately wanted. Long term VS short term, and his friends would never let the short term win, he knew it._

____

_Cullen gave a brisk nod, not trusting himself to speak because in those moments, he hated them, but it wasn't real. Could never be real._

____

_It was the drug, he realised dully. Sunk deep into his system and his psyche, like creeping ivy. But it had to go._

____

_‘Good,’ Lee said decisively. ‘Go take a shower and we’ll lay out the plan.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was a dark, grim chunk of time that Cullen would try not to think of much in the future. A period where every day was_ long _, too long to bear and his body turned against him, inflicted monstrous cramps, unleashed pain and fever unto him unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Each minute of the day was drawn out, felt like a fucking hour and there was no end to it, the only comfort was his friends, who were with him day and night._

____

_They never left his side, cleaned him up when he was sick all over himself, put cold towels to his forehead and kept him hydrated. They watched films, crappy quality DVDs of movies that were still in cinemas. They took care of him and slowly, minute by agonising minute, his body began to flush the toxins away._

____

_After a hellish week spent deliriously pleading for something, anything, Cullen took a shower, much as he had at the start and he looked at himself in the mirror he usually avoided. He was pale as chalk, eyes mired in charcoal smudges and his lip_ _… his lip was awful, as ever. The scar was thick and twisted. Ugly and cruel._

____

_He shook all over, but he wasn_ _’t feverish anymore. His skin felt too sensitive, mind strangely quiet and when he looked at his hand, it seemed far, like the perspective was off. It wasn’t extreme, wasn’t a hallucination, just his body adjusting, he supposed._

____

_His friends were outside the bathroom waiting for him and the symmetry of their lives was undeniable. A triangle in a kaleidoscope; your turn, now your turn, now yours. Part of him knew they were co-dependant, knew that their friendship wasn_ _’t typical or maybe even healthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to wish for anything different just then._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Once he was clean, a new struggle set in. Boredom._

____

_Ever since the death of his parents and sister, Cullen_ _’s life had been completely fraught. Moment to moment, it had been an endless, chaotic struggle just to get by. Work and cleaning, cooking and homework. Money and rent and bills, surprise costs and things constantly breaking. Emotional struggles, cascading failures and the small, bright bits in between._

____

_His life had been non-stop and now they had time to do nothing, time to sit around and talk. To read books, to go nowhere. He felt impossibly restless, horribly useless. It sat under his skin, that word._ Useless.

____

_He knew without asking that they wouldn_ _’t let him leave, didn’t fully trust him yet and the were right not to._

____

_So, he asked for a cooking book and Lee got him one, got him a few from the library. He used parcel tape to fix the guitar as best he could and he fiddled around with it. The muscle memory of playing came back to him slowly, but fully. It felt like a whole other life, fucking up his GCSE music mock exam. Piano, guitar, chords and vocals. He leaned into it, let himself focus on something that was for himself. It felt indulgent and wasteful, but his friends encouraged it, so he persevered._

____

_When he started to play, Fenris and Lee were there, listening while sat together, always touching in some way. When he tried to cook something new, they were there to taste it and laugh, disastrous attempts at first but maybe something good coming out of the more basic recipes. When he wanted to talk, when he needed something, when he was low, there they were._

____

_So it was, so it had always been, so it always would be._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_When he could go a whole day without shaking, Cullen had a consultation with a surgeon for his corrective surgery. The man laid it all out for him; risks, upsides, best possible outcomes. A thinner, neater scar, little to no pain, that was the goal. The risks involved accidental nerve damage affecting his ability to ever smile again, but the doctor assured him there was very little chance of making the pain worse._

____

_Cullen privately thought because it couldn't_ get _worse._

____

_He agreed and he signed several forms. When asked if he was an addict, he said yes and the doctor nodded, making a note about minimal pain medication for recovery. Cullen felt a sick sting of shame but it didn;t last long and when the surgery was booked for the next day, he left the room feeling lighter than before he went in._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_The surgery itself was quick; counting backwards from ten and then he was awake with a nurse hovering over him, Lee and Fenris bickering pleasantly in the background._

____

_When she saw he was awake, Lee was at his side in an instant._

____

_‘It went perfectly,’ she said, stroking his hair back, smiling. ‘Everything is fine.’ Fenris took his other hand, pressed a firm kiss to the back of it and Cullen nodded._

____

_He was groggy and sore, minimal pain killers for addicts, but he didn't care. Had suffered worse for longer. Maybe this pain would be worth it._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_He recovered faster than expected and the NHS being what it was, were happy for him to vacate his bed a little earlier, just over a week after the surgery. Lee and Fenris hadn_ _’t been allowed to stay with him at night, though that hadn’t stopped them from trying. He’d spent the nights alone, surrounded by the smell of sterile static, filling out a leather-bound journal that Fenris had got for him from the bookshop downstairs._

____

_‘Maybe you could write some songs,’ his friend had said._

____

_Cullen spent that time stuck in bed at night, unable to drift off because of the noises around him and the feeling of unease at being away from his friends, filling page after page with words._

____

_They weren_ _’t songs, not at first. It began as paragraphs, like a diary entry and maybe that wasn’t especially manly but Cullen had never been able to feel self-conscious about things like that. Paragraphs became thinner and turned into something like poetry, endless commas and hardly any full stops. Run on sentences that were driven by a flow, musical notes creeping in, rhythm and percussion as the feeling became something in its own right._

____

_When the surgeon checked under his bandages, they said it was healing wonderfully._

____

_‘Smile for me,’ said the man, watching his mouth carefully. ‘Yes, wider please. Very good, Cullen. Very good. You’ve healed up quite nicely. We’re releasing you today. Do you have someone who can pick you up?’_

____

_The attending nurse, a woman who Cullen saw five times a day on the recovery ward and had come to know Lee and Fenris by name, they were there so often, snorted._

____

_‘They’re already here,’ she said. ‘Lurking outside waiting for visitors hours to start.’_

____

_The surgeon signed Cullen_ _’s sheet off. ‘Excellent. Check up in two weeks, dissolving stitches so no need to worry about having them removed. Take care of that smile, Cullen.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was a thin line, neat and precise. Not something cobbled together simply to save his life, to stem the bleeding and keep him stable. There were little flare ups of pain now and again, but they were weak and irregular._

____

_Cullen felt like someone had handed him a second chance, a new life. Except, it wasn't_ someone _it was two people, the best people._

____

_The people who sat either side of him helping him compose a song in the most ridiculous way possible; Fenris making percussive noises with his mouth as if providing backup for Eminem in_ 8 Mile _and Leliana was humming the very simple, basic melody while Cullen sang the lyrics to his first ever proper song,_ Smile For Me.

____

____

_*_

____

____

_When he picked Rosalie and Branson up from the bus depot, he hugged them tightly, squeezing them together like they were toddlers again. His system was clean, his body and mind were his own again. Rosalie stared at his face, astonishment twining with happiness._

____

_‘Your scar,’ she uttered, throat thick. ‘Oh, Cullen, you look so—just so much_ better!’

____

_‘You do,’ Bran agreed. ‘Much better. It went OK, then?’_

____

_He and Cullen held eye contact. Cullen had never asked if they knew, the kids. He remained cautiously optimistic that Rosie didn't, but when Bran looked at him then, light brown eyes searching, he knew his younger brother had not been in the dark about his addiction._

____

_‘All sorted,’ he promised fervently. ‘Now, tell me everything about your summer! What were the posh kids like, did you find true love and make friends for life?’ Cullen hauled their bags over his shoulders, which had somehow gotten heavier over the summer. ‘I want to know it all!’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_That night, everyone back home, Cullen played a new song he_ _’d been working on. This time, the words had been inside of him for many years. He played for them, for the people he loved most in the world and the feeling was strangely wonderful, especially when they applauded with exaggerated enthusiasm afterwards, but no less genuine in sentiment._

____

_It was a feeling he wanted to pursue._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_A month passed in which life became better than it had for years. Rosalie started sixth form and the day before that, she got her nose pierced. Cullen wondered if maybe he should have been outraged, should have yelled at her, but he just thought it looked pretty and she loved it, so that was all that really mattered. She wore her hair in messy fish tail braids, the kind Fenris had taught her and a new sense of style was emerging. Summer camp had given her a fresh perspective, had given her a chance to breathe and stretch her wings._

____

_He knew vaguely that Rosalie had met someone in the camp, a boy around her own age and that something had happened. Lee told him very vaguely, guarding the details in a way that meant he didn't have to worry about anything. The youngest Rutherford was blossoming and Cullen was so proud he could hardly stand it._

____

_Branson invited his girlfriend over once a week for dinner, now that dinners were becoming something to look forward to. Cullen threw himself into learning everything he could about food, about how to make things taste wonderful. How to make big meals on a budget that were_ healthy _. Branson's girlfriend, Cassie, was a sweet girl, two years older than him. She was fun to be around and always told the best filthy jokes._

____

_‘I’m proposing to her,’ Bran told Cullen quietly, their conversation obscured by the raucous laughter at the table nearby. They were washing and drying up, side by side. Cullen’s hands were hot and wet, scrubbing plates and cutlery while Bran dried everything. ‘In a few weeks, I’m gonna take her out and uh, yeah. Propose.’_

____

_Cullen didn't stop washing, didn’t want to draw attention by doing something stupid like picking his eighteen year old brother up and spinning him around like a princess. Branson was young to be getting married, but he’d come to Cullen, nervous and excited. He was clearly in love with her and Cullen was just so_ happy _for him._

____

_But he kept it cool._ _‘That’s fucking amazing.’ OK, maybe not so cool. ‘I’m really excited for you.’_

____

_Bran nodded, biting back a smile._ _‘Thanks. I was thinking maybe, uh. Maybe you could help me pick out a ring or something.’_

____

_Casual, stay casual, Cullen._ _‘Yeah, of course. We can make a whole day of it. Go for lunch, if you like.’_

____

_His younger brother snorted delicately._ _‘Oh yeah, get massages too, while we’re at it?’_

____

_Cullen shrugged, his happiness bulletproof._ _‘Why not? I’ve never had one. Place on King’s Street has a two for one deal.’_

____

_‘Yeah, they also have the happy ending option.’_

____

_‘Oh, shit, well,’ Cullen laughed quietly. ‘Maybe we won’t go there then. I’m hardly the expert on rings, but um. Whatever you need. No, whatever you_ want.’

____

_‘Thank you,’ his brother said and they finished the task in comfortable, easy silence._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It was a quiet Friday morning spent together, just the three of them, when Fenris looked at Cullen and nodded._

____

_‘Lee,’ Cullen said. ‘Fenris and I were thinking.’_

____

_She looked up from her book, mildly alarmed._

____

_‘Oh God, that’s never good.’_

____

_Fenris had been helping Cullen peel potatoes and other vegetables in advance of the roast dinner he was making for everyone that night. He kept right on peeling when he said,_ _‘We were thinking that you should apply for University.’_

____

_She closed her book and sat back, surveying them both suspiciously._ _‘What.’_

____

_‘We looked into it,’ Cullen said calmly. ‘Your UCAS points are still valid and a few of the places we spoke to—’_

____

_‘You_ spoke _to?'_

____

_‘—said they would be happy for you to reapply due to the circumstances at the time.’_

____

_‘Even Cambridge?’_

____

_Guilt stung harshly._ _‘Well, no, not Cambridge, Lee,’ Fenris pointed out reasonably. ‘But a few other good ones.’_

____

_She chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes moving back and forth between them._

____

_‘What would I even study?’_

____

_Fenris reached for a potato, shrugging._ _‘What were you going to study before I was taken?’_

____

_Cullen saw her swallow down that instinctive response, wanting to tell Fenris that it wasn_ _’t his fault. Cullen often felt the same thing._

____

_‘I wouldn’t want to study that now,’ she said slowly, small frown in place._

____

_‘Great,’ Cullen said. ‘Study something new then, literally whatever you want.’_

____

_‘What about money?’_

____

_‘You’re eligible for a grant and student loans can—’_

____

_‘You know what I mean,’ she cut across swiftly. ‘What about_ here _?_ _’_

____

What about you, the house, the kids?

____

_‘We’ll be fine,’ Fenris said. ‘Cullen is earning good money now he has his CSCS card, the stunningly cerebral world of brick laying, plus he works at the bar some nights. Bran is engaged and looking for his own place with Cassie and Rosalie is raking it in as a tutor. We’ve never been in this position before and you know it.’_

____

_‘So, the second things are stable, you ship me off?’_

____

_Her tone was stern, but beneath it there was a small tremble of something strangely vulnerable._

____

_‘Yeah, no, that’s exactly it,’ Cullen said, nodding seriously._

____

_‘We can’t wait to get rid of you,’ Fenris added._

____

_‘Not like we’ve ever really been_ close _or anything._ _’_

____

_‘Looking forward to it, personally.’_

____

_‘Oh, fuck off, the pair of you,’ she snapped, mollified all the same. Leliana rolled her eyes, corner of her mouth curving. ‘I suppose I could think about it.’_

____

_‘Admissions close in a few weeks,’ Fenris pointed out. ‘We’d_ really _like to be shot of you by then._ _’_

____

_‘Yeah, we’ve got this other French girl who takes care of us, gives us purpose and will to be the best versions of ourselves, she’s coming in soon so if you could get on those applications, we’d—’_

____

_She launched a freshly peeled sprout at Cullen and he ducked just in time._

____

_‘I’ll think about it,’ she warned, but it was warm and Cullen’s heart soared._

____

_‘Gimme a carrot,’ Fenris said, grinning wolfishly. Lee picked up a small piece from the pile Cullen had been chopping and tossed it high. Fenris reared back and caught it in his mouth perfectly. ‘Ta-dah!’_

____

_‘It’ll have to be a local Uni,’ she sighed, smirking. ‘I forget how dumb you two are when left to your own devices.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris and Cullen formed a systematic team of relentless nagging to get Leliana to apply for other (better) Universities too, regardless of distance._

____

_When she was accepted into UCL, two whole days were spent volleying back and forth about how it would work, how expensive it would be and how often they could visit. Rosalie chimed in frequently, saying she herself was considering such a University and that Leliana would be doing her a favour by blazing the trail._

____

_After two days, she capitulated, could not hide her excitement to sign and return the acceptance letter._

____

_‘London is barely an hour away,’ Fenris told her sternly, as if afraid she might change her mind. ‘We’ll see each other every weekend.’_

____

_Cullen was strumming his guitar, sat on his bed, combining chords and keys with words that had different colours in his mind, half pretending not to listen as they folded bedding together out in the hallway._

____

_‘You can visit me whenever. You and the others, y’know. Or just you.’_

____

_Cullen smiled a little and played louder._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Four days after Cullen_ _’s twentieth birthday, he played his Mum’s old guitar and sang a song he’d written himself in the same pub where he’d once been glassed in the face, where he’d lost his virginity. Thom still worked there, still sat at the bar, his beard turning silver but his reflexes no less sharp._

____

_Cullen played and everyone cheered, some people whistling loudly. It made his heart beat altogether too hard, gave him a rush unlike anything he_ _’d ever felt before. Thom hugged him gruffly afterwards._

____

_‘You’ve got talent, son,’ Thom told him. ‘Keep at it.’_

____

_So he did._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen and Fenris spent most nights alone, Rosalie joining them sometimes and Cullen cooking a huge family dinner at least once a week either at home or in Leliana_ _’s minuscule student housing flat. Bran came with Cassie and though they hadn’t said anything yet, Cullen noticed that every now and then, Branson would curl his arm around his fiancé and stroke her lower abdomen._

____

_Cullen said nothing, waited for them to reach whatever point they felt comfortable._

____

_On the nights when it was he and Fenris, the time swung one of two ways. It was either a very active night - boxing, training, running, play fighting and then talking for hours afterwards, hearts beating fast, crystal cool adrenaline making them chatty - or it would be a slow night. Movies and homemade pizza. Popcorn that was no longer burned, but still talking, always talking._

____

_Fenris had good days and bad days. To a casual observer, all he ever had were good days. He_ _’d mastered his fear, physical and psychological and he used whatever had been done to him to his advantage. Good days were when it was not an uphill struggle to do this, bad days were the opposite._

____

_There were other days; rare, dark occasions when Fenris didn't want to talk and they would just be nearby. On such a day, Fenris took a deep breath and Cullen was ready._

____

_‘I want to join the special forces,’ Fenris said, apropos of nothing while they were laying top and tail on Fenris’s bed, backs at opposite ends, Fenris not-reading a book, Cullen not-writing songs._

____

_Cullen had known it was coming, something like this._

____

_So he nodded slowly, thoughtfully._ _‘Talk me through it?’_

____

_Fenris closed his book._ _‘I need more,’ he said simply. ‘This isn’t enough anymore. I can run faster than anyone we know. I broke the punch bag. I need more. I need to…’ he frowned, lips pursed, ‘I_ want _to be pushed._ _’_

____

_And Cullen sort of wanted to cry because although he knew it was coming, had been preparing himself for months, the result was still the same._

____

_Instead, he smiled._ _‘Did you already enlist?’_

____

_‘Not yet, but I want to.’_

____

_‘Should I come with you?’_

____

_‘No,’ Fenris said softly, green eyes no longer weighed down with the shadows of a dark day. ‘I think… I can do this on my own.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Fenris enlisted for two years. Leliana took the day off to come down mid-week and see him off at the bus depot. Branson dragged himself away from his duties in the garage, Rosalie from her studies. They gathered noisily beside the dully roaring engine of the massive coach headed for the training barracks in the middle country._

____

_He had his uniform on, looked impossibly strange but he wore it well and it was really just that Cullen was not used to seeing him in such a way. He hugged and kissed everyone, leaving Leliana till last. Cullen cleared his throat, asking Bran and Rosie, who he still mentally thought of as_ The Kids _, if they wanted to go for McDonald's afterwards. They weren't remotely swayed by his weak attempts to give the pair privacy but neither Lee nor Fenris seemed to care who was watching when they kissed. A deep, passionate, painful thing which had Lee shoving him away after a few seconds, hand over her mouth as she warned him, in her most deadly voice, to get his arse back here_ alive _in two years._

____

_‘Promise,’ Fenris said and winked at Cullen as he got on the bus._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_Cullen played once a week in his local pub and a few times a month at other places, open mic nights scouting for talent. Mostly it was him and his guitar but sometimes people offered to play drums for him, offered to play a bit of piano in the background or bass guitar. His music was taking shape, forming into something that could vaguely be called indie or maybe indie pop depending on if he could get people to play with him. He didn't really care for the labels, just played what he loved and watched, always a little bemused, as people applauded, stood up and even whistled._

____

_Rosalie came to most of his performances, sometimes a little bit late due to her schedule. Rare, special occasions had Lee turning up, always a surprise._

____

_She was late one such night when a man approached Cullen as he stood backstage, waiting to go on in the small club._

____

_‘Hi, I’m Aiden,’ the man announced with a very white smile. ‘I represent talent in this area and I’m always looking for more. Give me a call, we can set up a meeting.’_

____

_Cullen, who had been peering into the audience, blinked._

____

_‘Sorry?’_

____

_Aiden chuckled and pulled out a card. He was the kind of man who pulled out cards, apparently._ _‘I’m an agent, looking for new talent. Call me.’_

____

_‘Oh, right,’ Cullen said, hand moving to cover the brown plastic tape over the neck of his guitar. ‘Right, thanks.’_

____

_They were announcing him to a round of warm applause but Cullen was still a bit dazed._

____

_‘I think you’re on,’ Aiden said._

____

_Cullen shook himself and headed out towards the mic._

____

____

_*_

____

____

_It would never sit easy with him, someone being late. Rosie always texted, but he was still never really able to move past the text that had never come from Mia._

____

_His second set wasn_ _’t for half an hour, she would be there in time for that one, after a bunch of others played, all of whom were probably being hit up by Aiden the Agent backstage._

____

_Cullen sat at the bar, guitar at his feet and ordered a coke when a woman sat beside him, her long wavy brown hair brushing his face as she tossed it aside._

____

_‘Oh, sorry,’ Cullen said automatically and then immediately cursed himself._

____

_She looked over at him and grinned, pretty red lips curving._ _‘Did you just apologise to me for getting hit in the face with my hair?’_

____

_He sighed._ _‘I… may have.’_

____

_Her laugh was sweet and high._ _‘White wine spritzer,’ she ordered from the bartender, setting her glittery purse on the bar. ‘You here alone?’_

____

_‘Uh, yeah my sister’s late. You?’_

____

_‘No,’ she said, as if it was a silly question. ‘My friends are coming. I’m only even here because there’s this singer they all fancy. Callum Ratherby something or other. I’ll have to sit through it and pretend I give a shit. Who are you here to see?’_

____

_‘I uh, I’m playing here tonight.’_

____

_She sipped her wine, expression politely arranged into one of mild interest._ _‘Oh yeah, you in a band?’_

____

_‘I’m a solo singer.’_

____

_She laughed again, taking out her phone, checking it._ _‘Don’t tell me, you’re Callum.’_

____

_‘Cullen, actually.’_

____

_Her smile widened wickedly._ _‘Oh fuck off, no you’re not.’_

____

_His returning smile was a little self-conscious._ _‘Cullen Rutherford, or Callum Ratherby if you prefer.’_

____

_Far from being embarrassed, she laughed so much that her hair fell forward over her face and when she swished it back, he smelled it that time. Pineapple flavoured shampoo, floral perfume and that distinct_ girl _smell._ _‘My God, I can’t believe you’re him!’_

____

_‘Yup.’_

____

_‘Well,’ she said, sobering, but her dark eyes sparkled. ‘It was mostly a compliment. Me telling you my friends fancy you and all that.’_

____

_Feeling unusually bold, he asked,_ _‘Not you though?’_

____

_Oh, she liked that._ _‘Hmm, well I’ve yet to see you_ perform _, so I'll generously hold off judgement for now.’_

____

_The door opened and Rosalie came rushing inside, cheeks flushed, hair in complete disarray, scarf getting caught on a lampshade as she threw it off. Cullen finished his coke and picked up his guitar._ _‘I look forward to your harsh judgement. Nice to meet you…?’_

____

_‘Madeline,’ she said, extending her hand with a huntress’ smile. ‘Madeline Hawke.’_

____

____

_*_

____

____

It was only a few seconds, nowhere near enough to earn him the creepy, _Watching Someone You Love Sleeping_ badge, Cullen was confident. Just a couple of seconds indulging himself, watching Dorian sleep on his chest, lips parted, expression relaxed as he breathed deep, the beginnings of his snoring creeping in around the edges.

____

Cullen stroked his hair lightly, leaning up to press a kiss to the warm skin of his forehead before he carefully rolled Dorian off, deposited him on the cushions with care. He didn’t want to wake him, sought to let him sleep. The desire to remain with him, curled up and warm together, was a powerful thing but Cullen knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, was too excited.

____

He watched as Dorian turned towards the back of the sofa, pressing his face into a cushion before hugging it and falling back to sleep. Cullen smiled and forced himself away, reminding himself of the badge he _really_ didn’t want.

____

He turned the volume of the TV down, but not off. The lights were low and the room was cool, temperature settling now that the air-con had been running for a while. He pulled the blankets a little higher, enough to cover Dorian’s back and then he sternly told himself to _move._

____

Briefly, Cullen debated wrapping a blanket around himself as his trunks were damp still, but he decided against it, unable to dredge up any true amount of shame as he walked naked from the pool house to the villa, confident that they were alone and that his friends would be out late.

____

He wanted to gather supplies, that was his purpose. And maybe to scream into a pillow, the lightweight, expanding feeling of _happiness_ becoming a real, living thing inside him as every second passed. In his room, he pulled on a pair of soft-spun, well-worn sweats and a t-shirt he knew Dorian liked.

____

There was a brief internal debate about wanting to have _clothes_ to offer Dorian when he awoke and how to get those clothes.

____

Cullen knew he had minor boundary issues when it came to someone he liked. He was aware he often blundered into personal territory, never able to hold himself back the proper amount, but he was hyper aware of it with Dorian. Had never exerted so much restraint, not to this extent, always so terrified of mis-stepping and fucking it all up because he had no filter, because he cared too much, too fast.

____

He could go into Dorian’s room, rummage through his things and find his stuff but that was an invasion of privacy. _Or_ he could take some of his own clothes and offer them instead, but that… that might have come across weirdly possessive.

____

_Hey, you just woke up, wear my clothes!_

____

‘Ugh,’ he groaned and then quelled his internal panic forcibly. ‘No, you’re being stupid. Take your clothes and then _explain._ _’_

____

Yes, that was good. That was the better option. Explaining things was good, he was learning. Sometimes something _seemed_ like it was obvious, but to Dorian it might not have been. Cullen and his stupid ways, assuming everyone was automatically on the same page as him, like Lee and Fenris.

____

Cullen grabbed a few things for Dorian, trying not to put too much thought into it and then headed back downstairs, padding barefoot through the quiet villa. Anywhere else, he might have felt a sickly pang of fear at being _alone_. Might have felt exposed and vulnerable without Lee or Fenris around. He did his best not to think of those times when he had been alone and then realised, sharply, that he actually _wasn't_ alone at all.

____

He shook the visceral feeling away and turned on a few extra lights along the way for good measure. In the kitchen, he began to shore up supplies. He took the still warm plates from the oven, stacked them neatly and grabbed a few other things as well.

____

As he headed back to the pool house, he smiled at crystal clear blue waters, letting the scene and every aspect of the sense memories soothe him. It was dangerous, he knew, to let Dorian sink into the bones of a place he loved so much. To never be able to look at that pool again without thinking of their first kiss. But it was a risk well worth taking, he’d decided a while ago.

____

Dorian was worth the risk, absolutely.

____

He was still asleep on the great big sofa that Fenris had picked out years ago and Cullen was careful not to wake him, setting the plates down on the table, plastic coverings still in place. He unburdened himself fully, folding the clothes neatly and putting them in a little pile for Dorian, should he want them when he woke up.

____

Cullen bit his lip, unable to contain the shiver of excitement for when Dorian might wake up because he missed him. He missed those quicksilver eyes and every word that came out of his mouth.

____

He looked away when he caught himself, wanting Dorian to be able to sleep _without_ him staring, and then he settled into the couch, lifting Dorian’s feet and placing them on his lap, phone in hand and TV remote nearby.

____

It was always a bit dicey, checking his phone. Sometimes he had Lee do it, half dreading a message from Madeline, from an untraceable number or, God forbid, from a fucking reporter.

____

Madeline was the worst, though. Sometimes she would send him these huge long chunks of text and every part of it was horrible. It never really went away, the feeling those messages evoked. A complicated, tangled kind of sickness that stayed with him for hours.

____

Until he’d met Dorian, that was.

____

Cullen could still recall how he’d gotten an especially spiteful message from her the day that Dorian had come home early from work, having been let go from his job. Cullen’s usual go-to in coping was to play and sing, but Dorian had come home early and just like that, all the _bad_ had vanished.

____

His phone was pretty clear for once. Lee did an incredible job when it came to screening his life from people who wanted a piece of him, but the determined ones usually got through somehow. He had sixty or so messages unread but a simple glance told him they were unimportant. He had a few missed calls but they hadn’t made it past his _white list_ to bypass silent mode and so were not from anyone who mattered. Cullen never checked his emails and he didn’t have anything whatsoever to do with social media. That was all Josie.

____

Dorian was snoring loudly by the time Cullen had given into temptation and opened up his gallery to look at one photo Dorian had sent him, taken that day on the roof in Prague. Their selfie.

____

His gallery wasn’t very full, didn't have a lot of pictures. He had about twenty of Sophia, times that Madeline would generously deign to send him snapshots over the last few years. He had pictures of his friends and siblings. Five or six of them all together, but as a rule, he detested pictures of himself and so never took them or saved them when they were sent to him unless they had people he loved in them.

____

Dorian’s picture had _Dorian_ in it, so that was well worth pushing past the discomfort of seeing himself in a photograph.

____

He adored that picture, found himself looking at it whenever they were apart. The moments before he went on stage, times between sound checks and endless security checks. He would look at it, think of Dorian and smile.

____

Dorian who was right there, snoring loudly, blanket clad feet resting in Cullen’s lap.

____

He stowed the phone and browsed the TV on low volume, but soon Dorian stirred.

____

‘Mnghnullen?’ the dark haired man murmured thickly, peering around. Oh, but he was _adorable_ when all sleep mussed. Hair gone crazy from drying in a weird position, moustache all askew. Cullen rubbed his ankles and grinned.

____

‘Hey.’

____

Dorian turned towards the source of noise, blinked a few times and then returned his smile.

____

‘Hey. You’re awake.’

____

‘Yeah.’ Well, what was he _supposed_ to say? Couldn’t sleep, too excited, don’t sleep great as a rule? All true, all somewhat pathetic. ‘I brought dinner in here, in case you were hungry.’

____

Dorian rubbed his eyes and yawned, grin turning teasing. ‘Streak intact, I see.’

____

Something warm and pleased dripped down Cullen’s spine, pooling at the base there. ‘I got you some clothes too.’

____

Dorian looked where he pointed to the little pile of folded items. ‘Your stuff?’

____

‘Yeah, I didn’t want to rake around in your bags.’

____

Dorian nodded. Crisis averted.

____

‘Thanks.’ There was a moment when Dorian’s gaze dipped and the air contracted with awkwardness. Cullen waited. Jumping in wasn’t exactly always a _good_ idea, though it seemed to be his go-to tendency when it came to Dorian. He restrained himself and let the moment play out how Dorian wanted.

____

‘So,’ Dorian said, biting his bottom lip.

____

‘So,’ Cullen agreed.

____

‘Should we have some kind of…’ Dorian gestured vaguely, mildly grimacing. ‘Very healthy chat?’

____

Cullen hadn’t really stopped smiling since Dorian had woken up, only the strength of the smile varied. ‘A healthy chat, what’s that?’

____

‘Like, where we talk about feelings and shit?’

____

‘Ooh, feelings and shit. Very poetic.’

____

Dorian shot him a wry glare. ‘You know what I mean.’

____

‘I know what you mean.’ Then, softer, he added, ‘I’m still really happy. Are you?’

____

‘Yes.’

____

‘That seems good, then, right?’

____

‘Well, yeah, but…’ Dorian sighed and shook his head. ‘You’re right. I _am_ happy. That can be enough for now.’

____

_For now_. Enough for now, that definitely hit a minor key in Cullen’s chest but he just smiled all the brighter to cover it. ‘You hungry?’

____

‘Starving, actually. I’ll pull a t-shirt on, though. Maybe some pants.’

____

‘How dare you deprive me of your natural beauty?’

____

Dorian slanted an eyebrow, halfway to reaching for his plate. ‘Oh, you _want_ me naked, do you?’

____

‘Hmm, come sit on my lap while I think about it.’

____

And just like that, the tension between them went from awkward to decidedly fluid, turned rough to smooth in an instant. Something in Dorian seemed to relax with what Cullen really hoped wasn’t _relief_. As if there existed a single fucking universe in which he’d mysteriously grown bored with Dorian.

____

There wasn’t much space between them to begin with, a few feet at best but when Dorian snuggled closer to Cullen, wrapping an arm around his back and dragging all the blankets with him, Cullen felt like he could breathe a little easier all the same.

____

‘OK, well if I’m going to eat dinner naked, so are you.’

____

Cullen didn’t even pretend to argue.

____

____

*

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, honestly, I've been at this non-stop for many days now and I love this chapter, even if I am a little nervous about posting something so very personal and different. As I said, this is very much an interlude chapter but there is a part two to Cullen's backstory coming later down the road. I know you're all probably miffed about the lack of Cullrian love in this one, but I promise we'll make up for it in the next and I really did want you all to know the Bermuda Triangle a bit better, I love them so much. 
> 
> Next time... the fluffiest dose of red hot smut you've ever experienced. 
> 
> If you liked this, I would simply LOVE to see a little comment pop up in my inbox! 💜💜💜


	18. Loving You Is Easy (Loving You is Wondrous and Pure)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lateness, won't dally here, notes at the end.  
> Love you all, enjoy! 💜💜💜

There were easier ways to eat dinner, Dorian decided as he sat in the man’s lap, straddling him while they ate in the most ridiculous way possible. Face to face, often dropping things in the space between them and Dorian was sure it was illegal to become aroused while _eating_ , but it was fucking happening so there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to be done.

‘This is so good,’ he sighed contently, trying _not_ to actively grind himself up against Cullen but they were naked and it was _hard_ , so to speak. Chicken and sauces, grilled vegetables and everything so full of flavour, so interesting and delicious and healthy and yet Dorian could easily have been eating _plasticine_ and would have given it five stars because, oh yeah, he was _sitting in Cullen_ _’s lap and they were naked._

‘Glad you like it,’ Cullen said, offering Dorian a piece of chicken on the end of his fork which Dorian felt zero shame about accepting. Not his fault Cullen was a feeder.

‘Are we going to eat all dinners like this from now on? Might be awkward for the others.’

‘Maybe if we’re not naked it’ll be OK,’ Cullen said easily, no trace of insecurity in those golden eyes Dorian found himself fascinated by. ‘I’ve seen them in all states, believe me.’

‘Who, Lee and Alistair?’

Cullen inclined his head, a funny little expression crinkling his features. ‘Well, no.’

‘No? Who then?’

‘Lee and Fenris.’

‘Lee and—wait, they were together?’

Cullen laughed and stole one of Dorian’s peppers. ‘It’s not obvious?’

‘No. I mean, it’s obvious they—well, that they _like_ each other. I thought maybe they were both of an equally taciturn nature that neither would ever say anything and they’d just go through life not acting on it.’

Cullen’s smile dimmed a little. ‘It’s complicated.’

Dorian nodded, didn’t press it. He went for another bite of something, _anything_ from his plate and got too excited, ended up dropping it again. Sauce marked Cullen’s chest, thin smattering of golden hair now all messed up. He chuckled, taking Dorian’s fork away.

‘So messy,’ he rumbled, bringing their mouths together for a kiss. Dorian briefly debated refusing, never normally liked kissing when there was _food_ involved, but found he didn’t really care, couldn’t say no. Cullen moved the plate with one hand, set Dorian’s fork aside with the other and then wrapped both those arms around the younger man, cinching them closer.

‘Maybe—I like—’ Dorian said between kisses, fingers pushing up into Cullen’s hair at the sides. ‘Making mess—with you.’ Cullen let out a soft, deep moan and Dorian glowed, loved driving that noise from him. ‘But if it’s—mmm—a problem,’ he added, taking Cullen’s lower lip between his teeth and sucking. ‘We can stop.’

‘Don’t stop.’

‘No?’ he teased, fingers carding, their bodies close enough to be flush, twin hardness’ rubbing side by side, every single point of movement and contact heightened. ‘I shouldn’t stop?’

‘Please,’ Cullen uttered, throat catching on the word, a word that encompassed so much feeling Dorian could hardly stand it. It was never _just_ desire with Cullen, never _only_ arousal. There was an undercurrent of emotion, of sentiment and caring that gripped him hard, refused to let go. To kiss someone he cared about, to learn the taste of his mouth and the way his hips rolled, the base scent of his skin.

But it was nothing to the noises he made.

Cullen was _noisy_. He wasn’t quiet, like he couldn’t keep it inside. Every time he felt something, he sang it. Gasp, moan, thick swallow and every breath… perfect little sounds of honesty, the melody before lyrics kicked in and Dorian, fuck he wanted those lyrics.

‘Please what?’ he asked, velvet, low and strong, their movements finding a rhythm, one so perfect it threatened to ruin him. ‘Tell me what you want.’

The blond was taut, rigid with the effort of control and Dorian wanted it gone, wanted him laid bare and holding back absolutely nothing. That undercurrent of _feeling_ was churning into a riptide and the more they ground together, mouths open, lips hovering, hands gripping and fingers digging in… the more that riptide pulled _down_ towards his lower stomach, dragging into a cyclical funnel, a whirlpool.

Maybe it would have been smart to keep things separate. Sex over here, feelings over there. Compartments, safe and distanced. Dorian knew how fucking _easy_ it would be to fall for Cullen, really truly fall for him and never resurface. It was all there inside him, heedless of reason and logic.

Worse still, a tiny voice that said it _was_ logical to fall for Cullen. That there was nothing wrong with falling for someone after less than a month, not when they were _Cullen._

Cullen, whose thinly scarred lips were pressed together like he was scared of what he might say, of what beautiful, ruinous things might come tumbling out. Dorian trailed his finger down his jaw, tip of his thumb following the curve of his chin.

‘Look at you,’ Dorian husked, throat weirdly tight. ‘Holding yourself together for me, but you don’t need to.’

Golden brown eyes closed tightly and oh, but he was rigid now.

Instinct was a vibration inside of Dorian then, a sensation guiding him right instead of left, towards intuiting what it was that had Cullen closing his eyes.

It was impossibly soft, painfully intimate when he stroked Cullen’s face with the back of his fingers, reaching down with his right to take them both in hand. ‘You want to say it, don’t you?’

A broken sound escaped those lips, close enough to brush Dorian’s but kissing was unthinkable then because all the world had narrowed sharply to that single point of focus.

Dorian’s hand, just about managing to wrap around both their cocks, hard and straining _despite_ the many times previous because Cullen was like a drug, like the best and most natural enhancing agent that Dorian’s body and soul had ever tasted. ‘But you think you can’t.’

Cullen nodded, eyes still closed. His arms around Dorian’s back were strong and tight, keeping him there but Dorian didn’t feel trapped, did not _feel_ caged even though he was.

‘You want to tell me you—’

‘ _Dorian_.’

He kissed Cullen then, gentle and soothing, strange contrast to the fire and friction between them, the fucking electric heat pooling in his stomach from their cocks rubbing together, from the way Cullen was _breathing_ , from the smell of him, the residual taste of the food that had been made with such care.

Strange contrast that felt like _home_.

‘Shhh,’ he murmured, kissing the side of his mouth, the thin scar, his cheeks and then down his jawline, down the column of pale skin. Cullen tipped his head back, groaning in invitation and Dorian wanted to absolutely fucking _devour_ him.

It went beyond carnal need, beyond hunger because that undercurrent turned riptide was becoming a rogue wave, was crashing and colliding with every cell of Dorian’s needy body, of his mind drunk with the power his words had over this man, beautiful fucking man beneath him.

‘You can say it,’ Dorian told him and meant it. Maybe he couldn’t say it back yet, wanted to be _so_ sure, but that didn’t mean Cullen had to hold himself back. It felt so wrong, the idea of Cullen in restraint. Dorian sped up the pace, driving a wrecked, high little sound from Cullen then.

‘That feels good?’

‘Oh God, please.’

‘Eyes on me, darling.’

Light brown eyes flew open, dazed and darkened by iris’s that were blossoming under Dorian’s ministrations and he knew then, he just fucking _knew_ that he was at least a little bit ruined in way that was going to be permanent.

‘Good boy.’

Cullen made another pained noise.

‘I want to hear you, Cullen. I want to hear everything.’ He pressed a light, lingering kiss, tracing his tongue over that wet, plush bottom lip, thumbing the head of Cullen’s cock, causing him to shudder. ‘If you want to say it, say it. I’ve got you.’

‘Y-you have?’

It was like it hurt for him to ask it, like the words were broken glass in his throat and oh God, the fucking _vulnerability_ in him then, it gave Dorian pause. Despite everything, despite the inferno in his blood, the cyclone in his core and a need that left him trembling, he was brought up short by what he saw, heard and felt then.

Cullen was not the kind of man to protect himself, Dorian could tell. Had been able to tell right from the start. Maybe he was defensive with others, had Leliana and Fenris to safeguard him but Dorian was past their defences now. He was well past enemy lines, he was inside the circle.

And Cullen, he _loved him_. Had told him only two days ago and Dorian still didn’t _quite_ believe it, not fully. Shattered splinters of a hundred reasons coming together to form one, solid monster of a reason, pieced together from those hundred insecurities and worries, from Cullen saying there were _downsides_ to loving Dorian and ninety nine others, left behind by the people who’d hurt him in the past, Dorian included.

So, when Cullen opened his eyes, just like Dorian requested, it made him hesitate. Cullen was intense, he didn’t do things by halves. He had no sense of propriety when it came to things like _normal_ generosity. He lived a crazy fucking life, involved in all the things Dorian hated.

But Dorian was simply too far gone, his palm roughly dragging over them both, his heart smashing out a rhythm that spelt trouble, that spelt _mess_. Love was messy and Cullen… fuck, he was a floodgate. Once opened, no closing it again.

He knew that, he really did, when he said, ‘I’ve got you.’

Cullen was breathing fast enough to qualify for mild hyperventilation, had that glassy look in his eyes but his focus on Dorian was absolute.

‘Say it again?’

Dorian slid his other hand down to create a firmer prayer-like grip. Mouth close to Cullen’s, he breathed, ‘I’ve got you, Cullen.’

When his eyes closed that time, it was a soft, slow thing, a movement dictated by something pleasurable, by something wonderful. Oh God, it would never be _normal_ between them, it would be difficult ( _impossible_ ) to untangle because neither had been normal to begin with, neither was strictly a whole person, but _together_ …

‘More, please.’

‘You want it harder, sweetheart?’

_…pressed this tight together, skin to skin, sweat and heat and shared breaths…_

‘Dorian, please, make me feel it.’

‘I’m going to make you feel it, drag it out of you.’

_…they were just enough to make one…_

_‘_ I can’t—I’m gonna—’

‘You can let go, I _want_ you to let go. Let me give you this, fall apart while I hold you together. So fucking beautiful, look at you.’

… _whole_ …

Forehead pressed together, eyes affixed on one another, movements primal, rhythm dictated by Dorian, Cullen’s noises came faster and he still hadn’t fully let go, but it was fine, it was amazing, it was fucking _jaw-dropping_.

… _person_.

‘Eyes on me, don’t look away.’

‘I won’t.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Dorian.’

‘Say what you want to.’

‘I’m—nughh, _fuck_ , Dorian.’

‘Let go, Cullen,’ Dorian whispered in a voice he barely recognised. It was dripping with that _word_ , rooted and strong and so fucking _sure_ of itself that Dorian wondered if it had even come from him, but it had. He saw the effect, saw that way it washed over Cullen, felt his pretty cock jerk and the way his back bowed in anticipation, that perfect, awful _tightness_ approaching, cranking like a trebuchet, drawing back in anticipation of a release that sought to shake the foundations of the very earth.

He leaned in, arm burning with an ache born of repetition as his own pleasure spiralled hard, fast and _sharp,_ like it might cut him, might leave him fucking _bleeding_. Pressed his lips to Cullen’s ear and cast a pretty, bright spell when he moaned, ‘Come for me, beautiful.’

*

They didn’t sleep.

It was strange, but then so much about Cullen was strange. Dorian stopped over-thinking, let himself realise that nights like this didn’t happen often and instead, leaned in. Fuck insecurity, fuck tomorrow.

Fuck how close he’d come to saying something he hadn’t fully processed yet when Cullen crashed their mouths together, coming in tandem, riding a pleasure that felt _shared_ and _connected_ in ways Dorian had never experienced before. Kissing while they came together, kissing through the crashing crushing thing inside him was the only reason he _hadn_ _’t_ said it.

He got dressed in Cullen’s clothes and sorted himself out in the mirror at the back of the room. His hair was a train wreck but Cullen came up behind him, arms around his waist and sucked a big, messy love bite into his neck so it was really, _really_ hard to care.

‘Love you all messy,’ Cullen said thoughtlessly, casually and Dorian worked to hide it, what that did to him. Casual fucking use of a word that his _ex_ had never once said. Had rules about not saying, a whole thing they said _instead_ and Dorian remembered thinking at the time that it was a game, a way to say it in front of others without them ever knowing. Thought it was cute, thought it was _sweet_.

Tried to hide and it failed, echoed in a voice that wasn’t strong anymore, ‘You love me when I’m messy?’

Cullen looked at them in the mirror, wrapped together, Dorian’s hands over his forearms. He smiled softly. ‘I love you when you’re messy, Dorian.’

 _I love you, Dorian,_ was what he heard.

‘Mm,’ Dorian managed, swallowing. ‘Well, don’t get used to it.’

Laughing, Cullen kissed his cheek and let go. ‘I know, I know. I’ve seen your hair care products. Doesn’t necessarily mean I can control the urge to mess you up again.’ He wandered away, clearing up the plates. ‘What do you want to do now?’

Dorian looked at the big TV, the plush squishy cuddle chair that they hadn’t yet sat in and the cream coloured cable knit blanket draped over the back. The room was cool and although he was clad in Cullen’s sweatpants and tee, there was nothing unappealing about the idea of being covered in that blanket while cuddling Cullen.

‘Does that TV have Netflix?’

*

The hours leading up to sunrise were spent watching _Queer as Folk_ , Cullen’s chest pressed against Dorian’s back in the cuddle chair. Dorian could feel Cullen’s heart against his ribs, felt absent little kisses pressed to his hair every now and then as they watched in comfortable silence, only broken now and then by Cullen’s comments about how things were progressing for the gays of Pittsburgh. Dorian simply adored his unaffected enthusiasm, something vaguely childlike about his ability to enjoy things.

As they sat together watching, their hands were interlinked at all times. Sometimes Cullen played with Dorian’s palm, fingers tracing strange little shapes. Sometimes just holding, sometimes actively playing.

At one point, Cullen’s fingers trailed very slowly, very _deliberately_ up Dorian’s wrist, along the soft, sensitive skin of his forearm and then up even higher where his gentle movements turned into tickling.

Tickling turned to play fighting and play fighting turned to Dorian pinning Cullen to the cuddle chair, which led to copious amounts of making out.

Making out was strange. Kissing for the sake of it, kissing while smiling, while laughing. Cullen was just so _weird_ and Dorian already knew he loved that about him too.

Dorian was sure he would have come again, had he anything left.

Then they were right back to cuddling, to sometimes lazily kissing while the next episode auto-loaded. It was unhurried and so fucking _warm_ despite the cool, clean air that Dorian could scarcely keep his head clear of all the highly irrational thoughts and hopes, niggling desires that spanned far beyond wanting Cullen to fuck him.

And he did want that, oh _God_.

Sometimes around four AM, Cullen got up and looked out of the glass front, towards the ocean.

‘You want to watch the sun rise?’ he casually enquired, like it was a custard fucking cream he was offering and not his outstretched hand to go and _watch the sun rise_ like they were…

Like they were lovers or something.

But when he took that hand, let Cullen lead him out into the fresh, salty sweet morning that began to brighten the skies into a deep, ruddy pink, Dorian realised that maybe they already _were_.

*

With anyone else, Dorian would have been self-conscious. Would have shot the person he was with a sideways look, lopsided grin in place and mercilessly teased them for the overwhelming cliche that was watching the sun rise together.

And if he detected a trace of anything resembling _motive_ in Cullen, he might have done just that. Teased him gently and taken the absolute piss because they _were_ sitting side by side on perfectly soft, white sands, watching the sun rise far down the coast. It was the kind of thing that happened _elsewhere,_ in movies, on Instagram. Not in reality, not without a little ribbing.

Except that Dorian kept stealing glances over at Cullen, kept watching him as subtly as possible.

The impression he gained was that Cullen… just wanted to watch the sun rise with Dorian. Thought it would be nice and simply did it.

So, Dorian erred on the side of caution in withholding snarky, humorous comments about overblown romantic gestures. Enjoyed the visual feast before him. Let himself feel every single element of the sensory orchestra and sat with Cullen on the sand, arms resting on his knees, present in the moment.

*

‘Are they others in?’ Dorian whispered as they snuck into the mansion _(look, it was a mansion and no one would ever change his mind)._ Part of Dorian had wanted to stay there in the pool house, darling little house that reminded him of his loft if he squinted and ignored all the expensive tech. Cool rays of pastel coloured light were slowly filling the previously dark place, streaming into the kitchen, the den as they walked past, headed for upstairs.

‘Yeah,’ Cullen whispered back, nodding over his shoulder to the somewhat haphazardly arranged pile of shoes by the front door.

Dorian was unreasonably excited to see Cullen’s room. He felt like a teenager being led by the hand upstairs, parents out, house to themselves. He felt almost _nervous_ , but the good way. Jittery from rapid heartbeat, from rushing blood and whatever chemicals in his body that deigned to clash and create endorphins.

‘It’s so quiet,’ he observed as Cullen opened his door, turning back before he went inside.

‘That’s because _you_ _’re_ awake, therefore not snoring.’

Dorian shoved his shoulder and followed him in, steeling himself for disappointment should the room simply be bare and neutral, similar to the guest room and the decor overall throughout their _mansion_. Told himself it wouldn’t matter at all because any room with Cullen in it was a pretty great fucking place to be, but his concerns were unfounded.

His first impression of the room was that it was _lived_ in, if not downright chaotic. Whereas the guest room had been freshly neat and spartan, plenty of space for things to be added and only a few personal touches here and there, this room was _full_.

The first thing his eyes were drawn to was the sign Cullen turned on using a tiny remote. Before he could take in anything else, he saw that. A gorgeous pink italicised neon sign that read, **_Remember Why You Started._** It was hung on the wall directly opposite the bed. Cullen’s curtains were drawn, lovely thick ones that made it feel almost like it was still night-time. Dorian stepped inside and looked around, everything touched by the pink light. In one corner Cullen turned on another lamp, a softly glowing orange salt lamp.

The contrast of colours - glowing orange from the lamp, neon pink from the sign - clashed beautifully, making it seem warm, imperfect. The walls were a dark charcoal shade and they were simply _covered_ in writing.

Dorian looked around the room, the door falling shut behind him. There were words, sentences, simply everywhere.

 _Lyrics_ , he realised. There were _lyrics_ all over Cullen’s walls.

They were all in different colours, written in the same pretty, whimsical scrawl that was apparently Cullen’s handwriting. Chalk pens, maybe. A rainbow mishmash against near black.

Cullen’s bed wasn’t stupidly big, it was a standard double. His covers were dark shades - blues and greys with cream pillows.

Nothing quite _went_ , the colours hadn’t been coordinated, not like the rest of the place and that made Dorian smile. He smiled because it meant Cullen had chosen these things himself. Had chosen the somewhat lopsided fairy lights around the curtain rail, had chosen to cover the walls with his words.

‘Did you buy the sign like that?’ Dorian asked, gesturing towards the neon beauty that held his attention.

‘Oh, that?’ Cullen asked, pulling off the t-shirt he’d only put on hours ago. ‘No, I had it made. Someone said it to me once and I… well, it always stayed with me.’

Dorian did not ask who, simply nodded tactfully, drinking in the other details. There were only two pictures on Cullen’s walls; one was a Bruce Springsteen poster and the other was for a movie called _Plata Quemada._ All around both pictures, were sentences. Long, pretty words spanning like rays of light in all directions.

‘This is… wow.’

Cullen laughed self-consciously. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I have no taste at all. It’s why I didn’t want to explode all over your fl— _our_ flat in London. I uh, tend towards chaos when it comes to creativity.’

Dorian sat on the bed. The covers had been washed repeatedly, had that soft, worn feeling as he ran his hands over the material. Not like hotel sheets, not at all crisp. Dorian sighed happily.

‘You spend time here.’ Cullen flopped down on the bed beside him, mimicking his sigh quite luxuriantly.

‘Whenever I can. I love it here.’

Dorian, barefoot and still wearing Cullen’s things, laid on the bed next to him, side by side, both staring up at the ceiling. The writing above them was just large enough to make out if Dorian concentrated, but he was _tired_ and he felt ridiculously safe there, in that room. Surrounded by weirdly clashing decor that should have felt oppressive, completely surrounded by Cullen Rutherford’s creative chaos, but all in all, it just rang so true. A little bit _too much_ , but sweet and lovely in nature. So Cullen.

_Remember Why You Started._

Dorian frowned and tried to think, to find something in his own life that resonated with that saying. A tiny pang of jealousy swirled together with a pinch of insecurity. Cullen had _so much_ in his life. He was a promoter, starting out as a musician. He was talented. Dorian didn’t want to look too closely at the lyrics, but he knew they’d be good. The kind of thing that would tell a story, draw him in.

Cullen was a man who had a daughter, who had a fully formed life. Successful friends, obligations. Second homes. He was so fucking perfect it made Dorian’s heart flip over in his chest and he had a sign on his bedroom wall, a stunning pinkish-purple reminder of _why he started_.

‘Tell me something about you,’ Dorian said then as they lay side by side, not quite touching.

There was a beat before Cullen asked, ‘What would you like to know?’

‘Something, anything.’

‘Um,’ Cullen said and Dorian could practically hear the frown. ‘Well.’

‘Shall I ask you something, instead?’

‘No, it’s OK. I thought of something to tell you but it’s… maybe not especially cheery.’

‘If it’s about you, then I’d like to know it.’

Cullen _hmmed_ and Dorian resisted the urge to look over. ‘All right, well. I probably should have told you this sooner, maybe. I don’t know what the protocol is, but uh. I had a drug problem in my late teens.’

It was the last thing Dorian had been expecting but he didn’t let that show. ‘You did?’

‘It started out because of my face, my upper lip. It left me in a lot of pain and when… well, when things got bad, I started using drugs.’

Dorian, whose experience of drugs was limited to witnessing other musicians snorting poorly cut coke before going on stage, asked, ‘What kind of drugs?’

‘It was mainly fentanyl.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Kind of similar to heroin. I did also use heroin a few times but it made me too groggy. Fentanyl is like an extremely strong pain killer.’ He made another small noise, non-committal and low. ‘Or that’s what I told myself, at least. Anyway, Fenris and Lee got me clean. I had a—a kind of relapse when I was twenty two. I went to rehab for it. After that, I’ve been clean. Nothing since then.’

Even while Dorian’s head was swirling with thoughts and images, he turned his head to look at Cullen and said, ‘I’m so sorry you went through that.’

Cullen’s smile was almost lightweight, so very close to being truly born of happiness. ‘Thank you. It’s fine now, just that maybe I should have told you sooner.’

‘No, it’s completely your choice when to tell me anything. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.’

‘It doesn’t?’

Laying on his side, watching as Cullen stared up at the ceiling, Dorian said, ‘No. Did you think it would?’

‘I _hoped_ it wouldn’t.’

‘Is your lip still painful now?’

‘I had surgery after I got clean, they fixed most of it. There are still tiny flare ups now and again, but honestly, they’re rare. I feel pain less than once a week and it’s only for a few seconds, at most minutes. Nothing to what it was.’

Dorian trailed his fingertips across Cullen’s brow, over the warm skin and all the way down his temples. Cullen didn’t turn into the touch, kept on looking up at the ceiling.

‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘You can tell me anything, you know,’ Dorian said softly, like they were in a bubble and he didn’t want to shatter it.

Cullen didn’t say anything to that, simply looked over at Dorian and sighed happily.

‘Shall we sleep?’

‘We should definitely sleep. To be fair, you didn’t even have a power nap like me, so _you_ should absolutely sleep.’

‘Eh,’ Cullen said easily, light brown eyes dancing with orange and pink. He rolled onto his side, one hand slipping under a doubtlessly cool pillow. ‘I can go a long time without sleep.

‘Really? How long?’

‘Days, sometimes.’

‘Cullen, that’s not good,’ Dorian scolded gently, no heat in it because he understood not sleeping himself. 

‘Well, I could sleep if you’re here.’

 _You make me feel safe_.

When he moved closer, into Cullen’s waiting embrace, Dorian felt himself relax that much more. Tension in his bones deflating, muscles loosening completely. He exhaled slowly, Cullen’s arms around him as was apparently their natural _wont_.

Maybe Cullen wasn’t the only one being made to feel safe.

‘Night, then.’

Cullen kissed his hair. ‘Or _morning_.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dorian chuckled sleepily. ‘Good morning, Cullen.’

More kisses, soft small kisses and the smile was obvious in his words when he rumbled, ‘Good morning, Dorian.’

*

The first thing to hit Dorian when he jerked awake was _guilt_.

Guilt because he’d slept too long, he’d slept in, was going to be fired, had let his friends down, had missed calls from Harry, had been sleeping when he was needed elsewhere and now…

Oh, wait.

He sank back into the pillows, exhaling deeply, forcing all that pent up tension from a very foggy, muddled nightmare and rubbed his face into what was evidently Egyptian cotton, breathing in the smell.

Aftershave, honey, sea salt and just a hint of something electric.

Cullen.

 _Cullen_.

Dorian shot up, blinking rapidly. Cullen was right there and oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

He was wearing glasses.

Legs crossed, pillow beneath the laptop. He was shirtless. The room was a little lighter, gentle breeze moving over Dorian’s shoulders spoke of where they were. Dorian could hear laughter coming from somewhere, could hear the ocean just about.

And Cullen… motherfucker was just sat there, Adonis in research mode, wearing _glasses_. Cute black rimmed wayfarer ones, hair a total mess, laptop covered in stickers.

‘Afternoon,’ he greeted in a lovely, sweet _normal_ way, like he hadn’t just destroyed Dorian for any and all men he would meet in his life. ‘You sleep OK?’

Dorian shook himself, scolding everything below his waist that had decided they were _up_ and very much awake. ‘Um, yeah. Yeah, thanks. Lovely comfy bed, nice pillows and I really like your ah, your pillowcases _butwhatthefuckyou_ _’rewearingglasses.’_

Cullen smiled that pretty half smile. ‘I’m meant to wear them whenever I read, but really I only need them for the laptop.’

Dorian, who was still belly down _in Cullen_ _’s bed_ , tried to find the words (better words) to express himself.

‘Right, yeah, it’s just that you’re… wearing glasses.’

‘And?’

‘ _And_ they’re insanely hot! Jesus Christ on a cracker, looked in a mirror have you? I feel like you should have warned me at least! _Yo, Dorian, heads up, tomorrow I_ _’ll be eighty percent more irresistible!’_

‘I don’t think I can pull off saying _yo_.’

‘You never wear them at home.’

‘I only have the one pair and I left them here. I’ll bring them back with me if you like.’

Oh, smug bastard, it was like that, was it?

‘And what, just wear them all the time?’

‘Well,’ Cullen said, easing the laptop aside and invading Dorian’s space, slow and purposeful. ‘Not _all_ the time. Can’t have you fainting, can we?’

‘Oh ha- _ha_.’ It might, _might_ have had more heat if Cullen wasn’t running his hands all over Dorian’s back, moving to straddle his lower thighs. ‘What’re you doing?’

Hands moving up and down his back now, strong fingers digging into where little knots of muscle had built throughout the night. ‘I’m making you feel good. Is that OK?’

Dorian’s snappy, _oh so witty_ comment died in his throat when Cullen found a pressure point and circled it with the deep, sure strength of his thumb. ‘Mmmkay.’

‘This feels good?’

Eyes rolling back slightly, jaw going lax for a second, Dorian managed a nod. Fucking _hell,_ was there anything the man couldn’t do?

Relief and pleasure twined dangerously, sending all kinds of signals to all kinds of places. The first time he moaned, he tried to bite it back but it had already escaped. Cullen leaned forward and pressed an open mouthed, very lingering kiss to the back of Dorian’s neck and goosebumps ran _riot_ over his skin like a fucking Mexican wave. When he felt a hint of teeth and tongue, his moan was accompanied by the almost painful urge to grind himself against the mattress.

‘Good?’ Cullen asked, prim and innocent when he drew away and Dorian chuckled roughly, couldn’t help it.

He flipped them over suddenly with a level of expertise that had previously eluded him, reversing their positions and sending Cullen back first into the bed, Dorian straddling him front ways.

‘You’re a little bit too much, you know that?’ he asked breathlessly, eyes flashing as Cullen looked up at him, running his hand up Dorian’s chest, fingers tracing the hollow of his throat. He could feel Cullen’s clothed dick pressing against his arse, felt it through the thin material of Cullen’s own sweats.

‘Is that OK?’

Dorian bent low, nosing against his jawline, scratchy with fresh stubble. ‘You know it is.’

‘It’s hard for me to hold myself back with you.’

‘I love that you do it anyway. That might be the thing I—that I like most about you. I can’t even put it into words, really.’

‘You like that I hold myself back?’

‘I like that you care enough to.’ He rolled his hips, brushing back against the hardness he found there, fingers fanning out over Cullen’s chest, indexes circling briefly over nipples just to make them pebble. ‘Probably shouldn’t be such a fucking turn on.’

‘Probably n-not.’

‘It is, though,’ Dorian went on, finding himself unable to stop the rhythm once he started. ‘Which is crazy, isn’t it?’ He moved down, half laying over Cullen now, braced on his thighs, bringing their cocks together despite the material, mouths meeting in a perfect, needy fucking clash because Dorian was all of a sudden riled from nought to ninety and he _wanted_ so much, fuck, wanted everything. He kissed Cullen deeply, gasping as pleasure rocked over him from the greeting grind beneath.

‘You like that you can let go,’ Cullen assessed, voice gravelly and on the way to being wrecked. ‘Because I’ll—’

‘Because you’ll always stop,’ Dorian panted. ‘If I say stop, you’ll stop and I know it.’

Cullen had one hand in his hair, one travelling down the length of his back, slipping under the waistband of jogging bottoms. ‘Always.’

Dorian groaned. It was _definitely not OK_ to be so turned on by that. Nope. Probably illegal and very definitely a _bit not good_.

‘No matter how far I push,’ he breathed, tongue curling against Cullen’s, lips slanting to deepen. ‘No matter how close I bring you, you’ll stop if I say so, won’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it wrong that I kind of want to test it?’

He felt Cullen’s smile; kissed it, mimicked it. ‘Now?’

‘Mmm, maybe now.’

‘You want to drive me crazy, make me wild with need and then tell me to stop… just to see if I will?’

Dorian groaned low and painful, gut tightening and coiling. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll always stop,’ Cullen said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I’ll _always_ stop.’

Oh, shit.

It came out of fucking nowhere, impact hard and sudden, velvet meteorite colliding with Dorian’s very core. Pleasure chemicals _flooding_ him, bliss and adrenal rapture short-circuiting his mind as he came against Cullen, no way to control it, no way to _stop_ … like Cullen would.

Bloody hell, what was Cullen doing to him?

Dorian was ready to apologise, it was right there on the tip of his tongue. Apologise for a new and somewhat _mortifying_ brand of kink emerging out of fucking nowhere and also apologising for coming in two seconds flat, but he couldn’t apologise because Cullen was just kissing him, slow and deep and agonisingly sweet. Hands in his hair, trailing down his face and just kissing him.

It took far too long for Dorian, now flopped completely against Cullen in a boneless manner, to realise that Cullen was _making out_ with him again. That it had turned into a make-out session and that any and all urgency from Cullen seemed to have vanished.

‘Don’t you—mmm—wanna—?’

‘Just did.’

Dorian pulled back enough to blink and ask, ‘You did?’

‘Yeah,’ Cullen answered breathlessly, pretty lips all red and wet. ‘You’re so gorgeous when you come and I could see it all this time, your face, your expression. Made me come so hard.’

An exhale punched out of Dorian quite without his consent.

‘Fucking hell, Cullen.’

‘What?’ the blond asked, like a confused puppy.

Dorian kissed him again, sticky and wet against Cullen within the confining fabric of those sweats and yeah, he’d need a shower ASAP, but just a few more minutes. Just a bit longer.

‘Nothing,’ he said instead of saying something else, something decidedly _sappy_.

*

Making out just for the sake of it was _new_.

When Dorian casually (yes, it _was_ casual) asked if Cullen wanted to grab a shower with him, Cullen agreed easily. Inside the massive walk in with dark blue tiles and glittering silver taps, beneath the rain shower spray of perfectly hot water, Cullen joined him.

‘I can’t believe it’s 1pm,’ Dorian muttered, washing his hair while Cullen did the same. After checking his phone to find nineteen _nothing_ messages from his friends and a bot follower on his Instagram (slow down there, Mr Popularity) he’d peered outside to see the others sprawled around outside, either in the pool or lounging in the sun.

‘You could have slept longer,’ Cullen offered, scrubbing his hair with some insanely delicious shampoo that smelled of coconuts and pomegranate. Dorian couldn’t help but wonder if he should feel self-conscious about showering with Cullen in a way that yielded no sex. It was undeniably domestic, but it felt, dare he think it, normal. Comfortable.

‘Ugh, I feel guilty enough as it is.’

‘Don’t feel guilty,’ Cullen said, offering Dorian a scrubby thing. ‘Think of it as a holiday. You don’t have anywhere to be, I have a thing tonight but aside from that it’s all free time.’

‘Oh yeah, you’re working tonight,’ Dorian remembered.

_Come on, man. Level up._

‘Maybe. Hmm, maybe I could go with you this time?’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘No, I know.’ He began scrubbing over his skin with the soft, soapy sponge Cullen had given him. ‘I’d like to.’

‘It’s a whole music thing,’ Cullen explained, just a tiny bit of warning in it. ‘Lots of other musicians.’

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, eyebrows lifting. ‘Oh, you’re _playing?_ _’_

 _‘_ Yeah,’ Cullen said, a little bemused as he tipped his head back under the spray. ‘What did you think I was doing?’

‘I thought you’d be doing promoting stuff; talking to people, arranging interviews, publicity and all that, I don’t know.’

‘I hate all that stuff.’

Dorian laughed. ‘Probably chose the wrong career, then.’

‘I know, right? It’s usually not so bad with help from the others. Josie is an absolute Godsend.’

Dorian rinsed away the gorgeous lather he’d built up, skin fresh and tingling lightly with whatever body wash Cullen had shared with him. ‘How did you get into it in the first place?’

‘Well, I met an agent named Aiden,’ Cullen told him. ‘He was sort of my way in, at least at first. Guy turned out to be a bit of a scumbag, but once I got shot of him, it was a lot easier. Lee is the absolute best.’

Dorian _really_ wanted to ask about why Cullen needed a manager when he himself was a variant of that same job title, but he knew Cullen relied heavily on his friends, that they operated as a triangle and it worked for them. He let it go without comment.

When they were both clean, Cullen kissed him beneath the perfect, hot spray of water. Slow and lazy, warm and intense. His hands around Dorian’s back, water cascading all over them. No direction tending towards sex of any kind, no pressure behind it.

It was happening again. They were _making out_.

Kissing just for the sake of it.

Who had ever kissed Dorian just to _kiss_ him? The answer was an embarrassing admission; _no one._ Kissing was always a prelude to sex, a turn down an avenue that led somewhere.

This was different. Cullen just wanted to kiss him, expected nothing else. It was languid and Dorian was _way_ too affected by it. Made his heart skip, his skin roll with sensation and heat but beneath it, beneath skin and bones and muscle, it stirred things far deeper.

‘I love kissing you,’ Cullen sighed against his lips, the water cascading still, hot and wonderful. Wrapped together, wet and warm, kissing just because _._

 _Just because_ was, apparently, very Cullen.

*

Weird as they were, Dorian half expected the others to do something like burst into applause when he came out ahead of Cullen, who hung back to make tea in the kitchen with Rosalie, and joined them in the gorgeous sunshine.

Fenris was sat on a sun-lounger with a very large umbrella above him. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of black shorts. The lines on his arms stood out starkly, usually covered by long sleeves. He sat back on the plush lounger, sunglasses on, looking highly cool.

Josie sat at the end of his lounger, chatting with him and scrolling through her phone as she did. Leliana was sat on the edge of the pool, legs in the water and Alistair was swimming back and forth in lazy, uneven laps, whining loudly that he was lonely in there.

‘Ah, _excellent!_ _’_ he declared whereupon he caught sight of Dorian, venturing towards him. ‘Dorian! Come swim with me!’

‘Hey,’ Fenris greeted easily, offering a small wave. Josie turned and Lee lifted a hand to obscure the glare and see better.

‘Dorian!’ Josie said, getting quickly to her feet, wearing a lovely floaty beach dress with her swimsuit underneath. ‘Drink? We’re having pina coladas! I’m the bartender, which means they’re amazing!’

Alistair swam over to Dorian’s side, hoisting himself out of the pool in one smooth movement. Dorian took a single second to clinically admire his body and physique, though unable to help the inevitable comparison to a certain someone.

‘No thanks, Cullen’s making tea.’

It was a small thing, the way Fenris glanced over at Leliana and the pair seemed to share a secret little smile. Dorian plonked himself down on one of the loungers in the shade of the veranda and Alistair, dripping loudly, came to sit on the one beside him.

‘Sleep well?’ he asked brightly.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Dorian said and then, deciding to be brazen, he added, ‘We did.’

Leliana laughed from where she sat on the edge of the pool while Fenris settled back into the lounger, removing his sunglasses. ‘Here it comes,’ he said and right on cue, Josie burst out, ‘Who called it, eh? _Who_ called it?’

‘Unstoppable once again,’ Leliana conceded. ‘I lost ages ago, in all fairness. What did we wager in the end? One or two?’

‘It was _five,_ _’_ Josie corrected, both smug and cheerful while Fenris reached for his drink, something decidedly _un_ -pina colada-ish. ‘And you were closer than Fenris at least. _Disneyland_ , what a ridiculous bet!’

Alistair was drying himself with a towel. ‘I wasn’t in on the wager, obviously,’ he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, expression bright and interested. ‘But I’d have bet on last night for sure.’

Dorian shook his head, looking at them all in turn. ‘Did you seriously all bet _money_ on me and Cullen hooking up?’

Josie seemed scandalised. ‘No, of course not!’

‘We bet favours,’ Fenris clarified sagely. ‘Five is a lot, what the hell was I thinking?’

‘Clearly, you were envisaging a Disney-esque romance, my fine friend!’ Alistair declared gleefully, as if he himself had won the bet. ‘Holding hands on the spinning cups, clutching at one another on Space Mountain, I can see it now! Cullen winning Dorian a great big cuddly toy!’

Josie got up, taking her empty glass with her. ‘Five favours,’ she sang extravagantly. ‘Whatever will I do with them.’

‘Should know by now,’ Lee said, shaking her head, tipping back towards the sun. ‘Never bet against a psychology major.’

Josie was beaming. ‘Dorian, you’re my new favourite person.’

‘Mine too!’ Alistair agreed. ‘I have so many _questions!_ _’_

Dorian, feeling a bit like a fish in a tank, heard Cullen’s approach with Rosalie in tow and was deeply relieved.

‘Leave him be, sweetie,’ Leliana said. Fenris rolled his eyes and Cullen handed Dorian a mug of perfect, hot, strong sweet tea.

‘Hey, all right?’ Cullen asked, sitting at the table close by with Rosalie. ‘Sorry for the delay, we were catching up.’

‘Yeah, all good,’ Dorian said, taking another sip. ‘Though your friends were all betting on us, apparently.’

Rosalie snickered and Cullen brightened. ‘Oh right, who won it? Josie, isn’t it? Fenris had _Disneyland,_ I think.’

Dorian’s mouth dropped open, the picture of near indignation. ‘You knew?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Cullen shrugged, tea in both hands. ‘Lee lost _ages_ ago.’

Dorian tried his best to morph the indignation into something genuinely annoyed, but found he was fresh out of negativity.

‘Glad to provide entertainment, at least,’ he snorted, but he smiled through it and Alistair, who’d been sat beside him the whole time so far, nodded in agreement.

‘So to be clear, I _can_ _’t_ ask you about it?’ he queried, hand on his chin, studying Dorian like he was a fine work of art in the Tate that he’d never quite understand.

‘You can’t ask about it,’ Fenris reiterated firmly. ‘Lee, tell your boy-toy to respect boundaries.’

Far from being insulted, Alistair grinned widely. ‘Bleugh! _Boundaries_. Pffft! It’s OK,’ he added under his breath, winking at Dorian. ‘You can tell me later.’

And he got up without a backwards glance, diving into the pool and swimming towards Leliana like a determined shark.

Which reminded Dorian of last night, of the pool. Of Cullen scaring him.

First kiss.

First touch.

On his knees, Cullen’s _noises_. Little noises and streams of words, thrown together breathless and desperate.

Of cuddling and truths, of neon beauty and absolute chaos on the walls.

It all kind of came hurtling at Dorian then, the bright, blue of the sky making everything crystal clear and so lovely it was like being inside of an Instagram filter.

He smiled to himself and caught Cullen’s eye, the pair sharing more than a simple gaze.

‘So,’ Rosalie asked brightly, giving her brother a knowing smile. ‘What’s on the agenda today?’

Alistair had pulled Leliana into the water and the pair were now wrapped around each other, laughing and splashing.

Fenris’s non-reaction to it was a real thing of beauty. ‘We’re going jet-skiing,’ he announced in the same tone one might declare martial law.

Cullen lowered his voice, a hint of wry amusement in it. ‘Alistair coming along so you can run him over, or…?’

‘Ideally _without_ him,’ Fenris groused. ‘But I think it’s inevitable.’

‘Inevitable,’ Josie agreed, looking up from her phone. ‘You can’t ignore him when it’s a boys trip.’

‘Boys trip?’

*

There was something deeply satisfying about jet-skiing. Adrenaline, blood pumping, moving over crystalline blue waters, _friends_ around him. It was fast and bumpy, jolting Dorian’s whole body, bones and all, but it was _fun._

They zoomed across the surface of the ocean, never heading out too far. Fenris had explained all about the currents. They never left the half-moon shape of their cove.

By the time they returned to the small dock nearby, locking them into place in the boat house, Dorian was absolutely starving.

‘Girls are out,’ Alistair said, clapping his hands and rubbing them as they headed back up the sandy grass banks towards the mansion. ‘Let’s go and make loads of mess and talk about sex!’

Dorian snorted, but felt bad for Fenris and so tapered it off into a cough. And while a reaction from Fenris was expected, he didn’t seem to react at all. He seemed even more neutral than usual, almost at _ease_ with Alistair. As they trudged, Cullen took hold of Dorian’s hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it and then slipped his fingers through it, holding.

Dorian shot him a half teasing smile, hopeless romantic that he was. He didn’t need to scour his thoughts and memories to know he’d never casually held hands with a lover before.

As they approached the mansion, Fenris looked sideways at Alistair and quietly asked, ‘How is she?’

They moved around the side of the house, headed towards the lush, dense foliage of a small private forest and crunchy gravel. The only way back in once the house was secure, was the front.

Alistair sobered, didn’t seem entirely ready for the question.

‘Better. Getting better, I think.’

Fenris nodded decisively, opening the door with a code and his thumb print. ‘Good. I’m glad.’

‘It’s… you know I’d do it differently, if I could,’ Alistair said, quiet, almost beseeching. ‘But it’s—’

‘It’s what she wants, I know, man,’ Fenris said briskly, managing a tight smile. ‘I know. It’s all fine, you know that. Whatever she wants.’

Dorian watched, fucking _astonished_ as an expression akin to youthful guilt marred Alistair’s typical buoyancy and he had nothing to add, no innuendo, _nothing_.

The door clicked loudly open, great secure thing of wood and metal and they headed inside, Cullen’s thumb rubbing over Dorian’s knuckles.

Shoes off, neatly against the wall, Dorian couldn’t help watching Fenris as he headed into the kitchen and Alistair, bless him, kind of just _stood around_ looking awkward for a few moments until Fenris called out, ‘Come and have a drink with me,’ and Alistair took that to mean he was included.

Cullen was looking in the direction Fenris had gone, concern writ large all over him but it was held back by a small frown, countered by the knitting of his brow and Dorian could tell he was debating going after his friend.

‘Oh hey,’ Dorian said lightly, not speaking to anyone in particular in that lobby that carried his voice like an auditorium. ‘I need to call my friends and make sure they’re not in jail or anything. Is it OK to join you guys in a minute?’

When Cullen’s lips parted, _so predictably_ , to assure him of things that did not require assurances, Dorian shot him a stern look, chased by a wink and he backed away, parting from the blond and heading upstairs in search of his phone.

*

Lana and Sera were, in a word, ecstatic.

There was a lot of screaming, a fuck-ton of whooping and just a smidge of Lana attempting to _rap_ something but found the English vocabulary woefully inadequate in her search for things that rhymed with Dorian.

Dorian grinned all the way through it, even as he rolled his eyes. Lana demanded details and he offered vague ones, barring actual _details_ and instead painting a very blurry picture of events.

 _‘Why’s he not fucked you yet?’_ his short, raven haired friend demanded, Irish tone painting it with aggression that made Dorian chuckle.

‘I mean, give us a minute, will you?’

 _‘If that was me,’_ she went on like a stern mother. _‘I’d be all like,_ sit there! _And then just get on him. Why you not getting on him, Dor?_ _’_

 _‘Uh, maybe because some of us aren’t quite the boss level slut you are, babe,’_ Sera defended, earning a shriek from the end of the phone and what was maybe a few playful slaps.

 _‘Fuck off! I’m a strong, independent woman and I can shag whoever I like, thanks very much! Hey, Dor!’_ she added brightly, all anger vanishing. ‘ _You wouldn_ _’t believe the guy I got with last night, proper good craic, bought me like six drinks, can you believe that? Nice looking. Think I might be in love!’_

 _‘See what you’ve left me with,’_ Sera sighed. ‘ _When are you coming back, by the way? We_ _’ve been checking on your new fort Knox, all good so far.’_

Dorian laid back on the bed, curtains half drawn. He missed Cullen’s room. Miss the abundance of warm colours and messy walls covered in his thoughts. His guest room was lovely but it was just that; a _guest_ room and he didn’t… want to be a guest.

‘Honestly? I don’t know yet. So, don’t freak out,’ he warned uselessly. ‘But he’s going to Disneyland in a week or so and I think I’m going there too.’

He held the phone away from his ear, screams from Britain coming through pitch perfect and decidedly piercing.

‘ _DISNEYLAND!?_ _He_ _’s taking you to motherfucking Disneyland? In Paris?’_

_‘PLEASE LET US COME! WE’LL DO ANYTHING!’_

‘Absolutely not, and anyway, it’s for his daughter.’

_‘Oh my God! That’s so cute! No, but seriously, we won’t get in the waaaaaay! Please, Dor! Please ask him!’_

‘Guys, no way. Look, please stop asking. As if either of you could afford to buy tickets anyway, Christ.’

‘ _I wanna go,_ _’_ Lana sobbed.

‘Well, you _can_ _’t_ and can we get back to _me_ please? I’m not even sure if _I_ _’m_ going yet.’

_‘Of course you’re going, what the actual hell? If we can’t go, then you need to live vicariously for us both!’_

_‘We_ could _come, though,_ _’_ Lana added in a small voice. _‘For support?’_

‘There is no way in hell, heaven or earth that _that_ is happening.’

The conversation moved on after that, Lana seeming to let it go for now and Sera filling him in about their lives while he was away. When he ended the call, he felt a lot more level. Telling someone that things had _happened_ with Cullen made it seem all the more real. He looked out of the window at the view, sighed happily at the vast stretch of ocean and the curve of the private beach and cove.

On a whim, he took a few pictures, his dislike for empty landscapes overcome by the desire to capture the moment and _own_ it. They were pretty, but a little too bright so he shared the pictures with Instagram, just using it to add his favourite filter, _xxpro,_ and then he screenshotted the picture, cancelling out before he actually uploaded anything. Fenris’s warning about not posting things became a whole lot more pressing when someone had _broken in_ to their place, rifling through Cullen’s things.

The memory made his stomach curl unpleasantly, skin rolling with unwelcome shivers. An _intruder_ into his place, _their_ place.

He sought Cullen out quickly after that, glancing backward at the room he privately hoped he wouldn’t be seeing much of.

Down the floating staircase, he caught the scent of delicious things being cooked on an open flame. Outside, Fenris and Alistair were sat at the table, drinking beers together and speaking quietly while Cullen, bless him, was hard at work with a massive stone built barbeque. The previous sense of ill-ease faded instantly, smiling to see Cullen stood there wearing a pair of converse without socks, laces all messy, shorts that would have made even Armie Hammer blush and the AC-DC t-shirt they’d picked out from their shopping trip. Cullen was searing meat, prawns, even had a few pots of melty _cheese_. He was working miracles over hot coals and open flames.

‘Dorian,’ Fenris greeted, his usual smile a tiny bit more relaxed. He patted the seat beside him beneath the leafy shade of the veranda covered in honeysuckle and ivy. ‘Join us!’

Cullen turned, wiping his brow with his forearm and, oh for fuck’s sake, why? Why did he have to look like that? Face pink from the heat, glittering with sweat and his smile, so bright and wide because Dorian - plain boring old Dorian - had deigned to return.

‘You’re back!’ he declared happily, setting down a barbeque fork to reach for Dorian’s hand, pulling him in for a quick _hello_ kiss.

It was quick, to be sure, but it was just a little bit too _warm_ for Dorian to let go right away. The sensation, it was more of a soft, rolling shock; a thing born of electricity as opposed to the standard greeting of lovers. His hand cupped Cullen’s face, fingers sweeping over the stubble there, revelling in the roughness, that gentle burn he wanted so much _more_ of.

They parted and Cullen, unconsciously or not, bit his bottom lip softly, teeth sinking into that plush perfect thing and Dorian’s gaze was drawn to the movement.

God, but he wanted him.

Wanted him _proper._

‘You guys are so _cute!_ _’_ Alistair said, clapping and effectively ending the moment, though not in a bad way. Dorian rolled his eyes, sat down and Fenris pulled a frosty beer from the middle of the table, an in-built trough filled with ice and cool drinks. He offered it to Dorian who shrugged.

‘Sure, thanks.’

One beer was fine. Not like he would risk getting _drunk_ for anything. Fuck, he wanted back in that crazy room, in that soft mismatched bed with Cullen. 

The beautiful blond gave his attention back to the food he was cooking, no doubt to absolute perfection. Dorian’s stomach growled when he watched steak go on, sizzling and hissing, flooding the air with that _scent_ that made his mouth water. 

‘God, I’m starving.’

‘Me too,’ Alistair said. ‘Cullen, extra for me please. I’m just a poor boy, after all.’

Fenris snorted. ‘You need no sympathy?’

Alistair grinned wolfishly. ‘Easy come, easy go.’

Dorian was pretty thrilled that no one suddenly winced and looked over to check to see if he’d spontaneously burst into flames at the mention of song lyrics.

Feeling bold, he twisted the cap off the beer and added, ‘Little high, little low.’

Cullen, who was busy poking delicious things, chimed in, ‘Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me,’ except he didn’t say it like the others did, he _sang_ it.

Oh, it _struck_ something inside Dorian, his voice. That voice was pure sex _as it was,_ but it really became something else when he sang. Morphed into emotion, into beauty and the kind of thing that had Dorian seeing _colours_. He could feel his cheeks heating up, unprepared for the effect it had on him.

Fenris, as always, saved the day.

‘So,’ he said, offering Dorian a glass which he refused politely. ‘How’s your friends?’

Dorian took a sip. ‘All good. No one’s dead or in jail. They both still have jobs. Solid work from them both so far. They’re spending time at the flat too, like you suggested.’

‘That’s great. I’m glad they’re in and out. Let me know if you want any protection for them.’

Dorian cocked his head. ‘So, like. How does that work? Say I did, what would you do? Call your…’ he gestured vaguely. ‘Bodyguard buddies or what?’

Fenris replied delicately and deliberately, ‘I’ve been lucky to make friends in useful places.’

Dorian waited, wanting to know him better. ‘Oh?’

The smile was fond when Fenris sat back, holding his beer between outstretched fingers. ‘I was in the special forces for a few years. Made friends from there, especially in the CIA and MI5. Lee will tell you that to control the world, you need to befriend it first.’

‘So you’d call up your friends and say, hey, I need a security team?’

‘More or less, yeah. We have private security teams on and off throughout the year anyway. During downtime, they’re hardly needed but we keep them on constant retainer. I have a few well-placed specialists, people who owe me, people who like kickbacks. We manage.’

‘It’s all very impressive.’

Something animated and bright came into Fenris’ green eyes. ‘It’s nothing to what Lee does, not really. Should have seen her back in the early days when we were doing anything we could to land gigs. Fuck, she was so—’ He stopped suddenly, almost like something got stuck in his throat, but no, his expression sobered in an instant, followed by the knitting of his brow. ‘Well, I’m sure you can see for yourself.’

Dorian had the distinct impression he was the only one there who _didn_ _’t_ know what had gone down between the two of them. Even Alistair was busy peeling the label off his beer, expression carefully neutral and Cullen, fully able to hear as was evidenced by his impromptu little performance, hadn’t turned or commented.

And it was _hardly_ like Dorian was about to raise his hand, demand to know things, to be filled in, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

But still, Fenris pursed his lips, staring off to the side and he said, ‘I hurt her, a few years ago. I hurt her very badly.’

He said it in a voice Dorian had never heard before, not from him. It was quiet and frail, a breakable thing born of something sickly like _regret_. Dorian didn’t know what to say, he just _didn_ _’t._

Before he had time to panic over his lack of response, Fenris shook himself, wiped his eyes and took a deep swig of beer before getting up. ‘Cullen, need help?’

Dorian didn’t watch him go, met Alistair’s waiting gaze instead. The pretty red-head gave him a half sad, half comforting smile, just about the most genuine expression Dorian had seen from him so far.

‘I’m trying to think of a conversation that doesn’t lead down a dark path,’ Alistair admitted and they both laughed. Some of the atmosphere loosened.

‘What’s your favourite food?’ Dorian asked him, settling into the soft backed garden chairs.

The mega-watt smile hit 100%. ‘Oh, easy- _peasy_! Cheese! I fucking _love_ cheese. Honestly, I’m a bit obsessed. Everywhere I go, I’m always looking for new kinds, you know? Weirder the better, though I do admit,’ he said, holding his hands up, chuckling richly. ‘ _Nothing_ beats Cathedral City, extra mature on toast. Am I right?’

‘I love that stuff.’

‘Exactly! Seriously, I could eat cheese for the rest of my life and very little else. What about you?’

Normal, if very _interesting_ conversation prevailed between the two for a while as Fenris genuinely helped Cullen out, making vegetable kebabs, making all kinds of stuff on the grill – including cheese fondu - until they heard voices from the girls returning.

Dorian looked over and saw Cullen give Fenris’s hand a little squeeze before they welcomed the girls back.

Dorian got kisses from everyone, especially Rosalie. She hugged him very tight after his two kisses and then added another; a great big one on his cheek, the kind that would have made a lipstick mark had she been wearing it.

All those kisses left the faint trace of _wine_ in the air and the atmosphere was undeniably vibrant when the girls got changed, settled in, showing off what they’d bought. Nothing compared to the luxury of the shops in Sardinia, of course, but they were pretty things nonetheless. There was a lot of _chocolate_ and an even greater amount of wine, despite someone casually referencing the _wine cellar_ (because of course) and while Josie layered Dorian in silk scarves and Rosalie instantly mismatched all her earrings, Lee went right for Fenris, the pair having what looked like a _conversation_.

Not a bad one, though Dorian hoped. It seemed to end well.

Fenris smiled at her and she nodded, decisively, touching his arm before she moved away.

‘Can we play volleyball?’ a slightly tipsy Rosalie asked, tying her hair up in the messiest bun Dorian had ever seen.

‘Hmm,’ Cullen said, sucking something off his thumb as he _finally_ began plating up what he’d spent over an hour making and then keeping hot in the clever shelved compartments below the stone contraption. ‘After dinner.’

‘Plus we have the thing, Rosie,’ Leliana reminded her. ‘We can play when we get back, if you like, though.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dorian said because he really truly had forgotten _again_. ‘You’re playing tonight. Actually playing, like in the pub.’

‘Yup,’ Cullen said, heaping perfectly cooked New York strip, massive burgers, thick herbed sausages, prawns and all manner of meaty delights at one end of the table, far from Josie. ‘But you don’t—’

‘I don’t have to come, yeah, yeah!’ Dorian finished, earning laughs all around. ‘I’d _like_ to come.’

Cullen didn’t _quite_ freeze, but it was a near thing. ‘You would?’

‘Yeah. And I really mean it this time. Considering the fact you’re all half pissed, I feel like this will be a different vibe.’

Well worth the half smile he earned himself, there.

‘It will be, I think,’ Cullen agreed lightly. ‘Josie, got your vegan kebabs and burgers right there, cooked them first.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ she purred, posing with Rosalie, holding her phone out in the typical selfie-pose. ‘Dorian, are you sure you’re coming? There’ll be others playing there, it’s not atrocious karaoke.’

Dorian helped himself to expensive steak, to incredible, juicy flame seared vegetables, to prawns and fucking _hell,_ were those grilled lobster tails cooked in butter?

It was difficult to feel anything bad, anything negative at _all_ when Cullen finally sat heavily beside him, reaching for his beer and stealing a swig, before slinging his arm around Dorian’s back like it belonged there.

‘I’m sure.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, guys I'm so sorry - I had ZERO energy this week, it's been a weird one. I think maybe at this halfway point I might need to take a one week (max) break and recharge a little. I don't want to, obviously, because I'm obsessed with this and want so much to keep updating regularly and let everyone enjoy it, but this was a real trial and it shouldn't have been, only 10k after all. Hmm, yeah I might take a one week break, making it two weeks or less before the next update. 
> 
> Anyway! Some of you have asked and yes, Cullen's level of fame/down-to-earthness is based on a kind of Ed Sheeran personality but his singing/song style is very much based on a singer I adore, called Nathan Wagner. If you're looking for an example of Cullen's music style and vocal range, check out 'Fire In The Wind' over on YouTube. 
> 
> What else? Oh yeah, I absolutely love you all so much and was honestly BLOWN AWAY after the response from the previous chapter. To have written something so close to my heart and see it resonate, I'm touched and thrilled. You're all amazing. I'm sorry this was a bit of a nothing chapter, but I'm hoping after the break I'll be back to doing 15k-20k chapters and getting back my rhythm. ALSO sorry for them NOT having incredibly smutty sex yet like I promised, I keep asking them and they're all like, 'no, let's make people wait even longer, lol,' but I promise it's coming, pun intended. 
> 
> 💜💜💜


	19. The Arms Of The Ocean Are Carrying Me (And All This Devotion Was Rushing Out Of Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me during my break, I really needed it and it was lovely to catch up and put the effort needed to making this chapter (hopefully) extra special. As always, thank you so much for your support, your kindness in comments and kudos.  
> Welp. I promised smut, so grab a plate! 💜💜💜

Sexy washing up really shouldn’t be a thing, but there they were, side by side, rinsing plates and glasses and cutlery before it all went in the dishwasher. Elbows brushing, throats cleared delicately, belying the feelings between them.

Being rock hard while washing up was a new experience. Getting impossibly excited about touching hands in warm, soapy water, Cullen’s aftershave all around him, Dorian tried to get a hold of himself… and failed spectacularly.

‘So, um,’ he said, eloquent in the extreme. ‘Yeah.’

Cullen shot him a glance, a single look and oh, _thank God,_ he was feeling it too. Dorian wasn’t just standing there, ready to vibrate out of his skin with a strange combination of fire and friction, with need so raw it was electric between them, a crackling static of heat.

‘Hmm,’ Cullen agreed valiantly, wiping his hands on his shorts as he finished loading up the last of the glasses. He closed the dishwasher door with unnecessary force, turning fully to face Dorian and then not seeming to know what to _do_. ‘Right.’

Alistair sauntered in, each hand holding four empty bottles by the necks. 

‘No, I _haven’t_ seen your charger,’ he told Dorian, apropos of sweet fuck all, casual as one pleased. ‘Maybe it’s upstairs.’

Oh, Dorian liked him.

‘Yeah, yeah, maybe,’ Dorian said, equally casual, stroking his chin. ‘I’ll uh, go check.’ He headed towards the hallway while Cullen hovered uncertainly, half glaring at Alistair.

‘Cullen, go help him,’ Alistair urged as if the taller man was being _rude_ by not offering, tiny smirk in place. ‘Two man job, that is.’

Dorian looked back at the stairs in time to catch Alistair’s deep and unsubtle wink followed by a, ‘ _Go Get Him,_ _’_ kind of nod. The sounds of the others still outside emboldened Dorian and he headed upstairs, Cullen’s footsteps behind him, heart in his throat.

Dorian led Cullen back into that chaotic, warmly lit room of lovely clashes, their hands finding each other, grip tight. ‘Can’t find your charger? Good excuse as any, I supp—’ Cullen’s musings were interrupted as the last of Dorian’s restraint gave out and he used Cullen to close the door by virtue of _shoving_ him into it.

He’d always liked being tall, always liked his height (not the freakish kind like his _ex_ obviously) but he really, _really_ liked that Cullen was an inch taller. So, when their mouths came together, heated frenzy and desperation swirling into a _vortex_ that sought to pull all the world into it, Dorian had to tilt just a bit _upwards_ to meet Cullen’s lips and it struck a low, wild chord in him.

Hands moved over skin, under fabric, roaming and _seeking._ Holding just to hold, to get closer, to make the other feel wonderful as they kissed, lips sliding imperfectly, tongues clashing and the whole thing was messy. It was inelegant and verging on desperate. Dorian felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin, right on the ragged edge of a feeling that threatened to take over, to completely fucking _take over_ because of all the men he’d been with, he had never wanted someone this much before.

The room was stiflingly warm, left without the air-con all day, and outside, the sun was descending. A previously blue sky turned pink, purple, orange; matching the weirdly teenage interior of the room in which Dorian was currently losing his mind.

He was hot, he was _way_ too hot; skin prickling with sweat and then erupting into rolling frissons of gooseflesh when Cullen moaned deep in his chest and broke the kiss long enough to yank his t-shirt over his head, messing up his curls in the process.

‘I want you,’ he was saying, both hands on Dorian’s face as he took his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it for a moment. ‘I want you so much.’

Dorian held him against the door, kept him there with his own body, leaning into him so fully that should the door have opened out-ways, they would definitely have gone tumbling through it. His heart was pulsing in the base of his throat, all his blood gone south, fluid fire in a downward spiral. Every variant of _desire_ and _want_ that he felt towards Cullen was expanding, combining and it was all too much, Cullen was _always_ too much but this was different.

There was an ache inside of him, a strange cramping hollow and he’d never, not once in his life, needed to be fucked this badly.

‘Take me, then,’ he gasped, fingers digging into the flesh of Cullen’s upper arms, wishing he could just _smash_ them together; rudimentary flints grinding and rubbing trying to create a spark. It was fucking _primal_ , this need and he couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t control himself, not when Cullen was this beautiful, this _perfect_ , this achingly sexy and in every way, somehow everything that Dorian had ever wanted or dreamt of. ‘I’m right here,’ he breathed, holding himself back from kissing in a way which left him shaking. ‘ _Take_ me.’

Cullen’s eyes slammed shut, tight and pained. ‘Shit, _fuck_ , really?’

‘I need you, Cullen.’

‘I—it’s—’

‘I need you to fuck me, I _need_ you inside me,’ Dorian whined, lost to the need to _give_ himself, to give all his truth, no matter how raw and real. ‘I can’t wait anymore, _please._ _’_

Cullen swore violently and Dorian’s skin rolled with delighted anticipation when big, strong hands lifted him up under the thighs to allow Dorian to wrap himself around Cullen like a koala bear, the horniest fucking koala bear on the face of the earth.

He walked them over to the bed, to _Cullen_ _’s_ bed, and when Dorian’s back hit the mattress, it briefly winded him, but Cullen was right there above him and he barely had time to catch his breath before lips and tongue joined to his.

It was a filthy thing, Cullen’s kiss. Deep and possessive and _oh_ Dorian liked that, wanted to be possessed and possess in return. To know him inside and out, to be _full_ of him, marked by him.

‘Make me yours,’ he heard himself moan in a voice that would probably put Alistair to shame.

Cullen growled, ‘Don’t tease.’

‘I’m not,’ Dorian assured him, _oh so_ honestly. It was all so graceless, every movement between them a stutter step towards an event that would _require_ some level of grace if it was to have a chance of happening. It was like they didn’t know how to hold one another because they wanted to hold _everything, everywhere_. Couldn’t keep hands in one place long enough because they needed more, needed to feel more, to cause more of a reaction. Mindless, base desires in the driving seat as Dorian struggled to form a coherent thought as they moved against one another, kissing deeply enough to leave each other breathless, to leave Dorian positively _dizzy._

Cullen’s weight above him was _doing things_ to him, filling him with base arousal that spilled over the sides in a tidal flood of, _I_ _’ll Die Without You Inside Me_.

It didn’t occur to him that maybe, just _maybe_ there were better times to do this. Didn’t even cross his mind.

Fuck _better times_ , fuck staging. Fuck waiting for it to be right because there were always a million reasons _not_ to do something and Dorian was done waiting.

‘I’m _not_ teasing,’ he managed to reiterate, astonished that he could even _form words_ he was so turned on. ‘Wouldn’t do that.’

Cullen’s hips stuttered, interrupting that feverish, clothed grind and there it was, like a bolt of pure fucking _lightning_ right into Dorian’s centre. The feeling of driving Cullen wild.

It was new, so fucking brand new still despite last night, despite everything he’d already seen of Cullen and come to know from their time together. He had this _power_ over Cullen, this weird brand of magic that affected the taller man in a way Dorian had never known before.

That sway was heady, it was intoxicating and Dorian was addicted to that, above all else.

Dorian turned his face to the side enough to break the kiss, necessity to fill his lungs with air but also because he had to say more, had to _see_ and _feel_ what it did to Cullen because that was almost as good as the feel of Cullen’s cock against his own, of that glorious _weight_ , of his arms on either side and the taste of him in his mouth.

‘I want you to make me yours,’ he said, every word dragging with the effort of speech when his body so wanted to devote its energy elsewhere, every beat of his heart feeling like it was custom made to drive blood _down,_ to push him and Cullen that much closer. ‘Please, darling.’

Cullen groaned and Dorian drank the sound right from his lips, swallowed it down and tangled his hands in those curls, needing to be naked. ‘Strip me,’ he told Cullen, only half breaking the kiss to do so.

It was tricky, keeping Cullen there and kissing him, the pair knotted together and panting while Cullen undid his belt, yanked it out and tossed it aside, pushing Dorian’s shorts down. It was difficult and maybe Dorian liked that, didn’t want it easy, even though that was _completely_ counterintuitive to the end result of what he longed for. Cullen was clumsy as he worked the waistband down Dorian’s thigh’s one handed, using the other to lean, unable to get away because Dorian had him, kept him locked in a kiss that drove all the air from their lungs, left them hyperventilating.

‘Good boy,’ Dorian couldn’t actually prevent himself from saying. ‘So good, undressing me.’

The little noises from Cullen were near constant now; a steady stream of pleasure born moans and mutterings combined with the occasional grunt of frustration because undressing Dorian while _kissing_ him, while also laying on top of him was no easy task. It made Dorian smile, made him want to laugh and keep Cullen inside him for all time, keep them locked this way, never let anyone else near him.

When it came to the t-shirt, a standard navy colour that one of the girls had picked out, Cullen whined, hands rucking up the expensive material and bunching it high just beneath Dorian’s collarbone. He couldn’t get it off without breaking the kiss and they both knew it. Dorian waited, breath baited to see what he’d do, newly free cock rubbing eagerly against the soft material of Cullen’s own shorts, nestled between the space of his thighs.

When Cullen gave a determined kind of grunt, Dorian smiled against his mouth, curling an arm around Cullen’s neck to keep himself there as Cullen drew back and half lifted Dorian with him, both hands prising the neck of the t-shirt apart before he _tore it in half_.

Tore the fucking t-shirt in half like a showboating wrestler of some sort and then guided Dorian’s arms out of the ruined tatters one at a time, all without ever breaking the kiss.

Dorian, who was now positively _drunk_ after that display, kissed him proudly, deeply. Wanted to reward him for his cleverness, for the sheer fucking _ridiculous_ sexiness that was Cullen tearing his actual clothes off his actual body and later, maybe, they’d laugh about it.

But later felt _very_ far away then.

Naked beneath Cullen, who was emphatically _not_ naked, Dorian felt like a bird finally permitted to unfurl it’s wings, to fly free and plummet down into a deep roll, pulling up at the last second. He luxuriated against Cullen, stretching and sighing against his lips, pulse pounding, skin burning, comfortable with his nakedness in a way that was, like so much else, _new._

‘You’re perfect,’ he told Cullen and fucking meant it. ‘It’s like you were made for me.’

That earned him a deeply broken noise, a beautiful cracked thing like glass beneath pressure and Dorian caressed his face, memorising the feeling of him, the curvature of his cheeks and that jawline.

‘Please,’ Cullen managed, the only coherent word Dorian could make out from the sounds falling from his lips, from that mouth Dorian adored. ‘ _Please_.’

‘You want to fuck me?’

All the breath left Cullen in a _whoosh_ , a deep, punched out exhale and Dorian’s need kicked into a higher gear, shoving Cullen’s clothes off without finesse, accidentally knocking him with his elbow, but it didn’t dent the flow, nothing could.

He needed them naked against each other, needed skin on skin, heart to heart and whatever it was within that _burned_ to be inside each other, that required absolute proximity.

When they were fully naked against one another, Dorian made low, throaty sounds of satisfaction and Cullen practically purred. Fuck, but what had Dorian been _doing_ all his life if this was how sex could actually be? And they weren’t even _having_ sex yet.

Cullen fumbled blindly in his bedside table drawer, knocking a few things off the top by the sound of it but Dorian barely noticed, certainly didn’t care.

When he returned, he kissed Dorian hard, one hand on his cheek, their bodies flush and hot and burning up with fever need. Dorian took a single moment to appreciate Cullen, who was the perfect blend of supple skin and firm; hard, thick cock and flat, defined abs, big arms and a chest made to be smothered in body glitter.

The familiar rustle of that foil pack was instantly familiar, Cullen lifting the condom to his mouth to open with his teeth.

‘I was tested five months ago,’ Dorian said before he could stop himself. ‘Haven’t been with anyone since.’

Cullen paused, the _Dent of Mild Concern_ appearing in his pretty brow. ‘Same for me, over a year but—’

‘Then if you don’t want to, it’s fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘If you _want_ to wear it, of course, but I-I really want to feel you, I—fuck, please,’ he gasped, breath leaving him more rapidly as total, all-consuming desire began to escalate. ‘I want to feel you fuck me.’

Cullen looked _pained_. ‘Oh God, Dorian. You’re _sure_ you want to—?’

‘I want you inside me, Cullen. I want you to fuck me till I come and I want to feel _you come_ in me, I need it.’

He drank it in when Cullen’s whole body kind of _rippled_ , a shiver born of heat and lust and what Dorian dared to believe was love. Cullen’s eyes rolling just was enough to mirror that same feeling, albeit a different shade, in Dorian himself. Cullen’s pleasure was his, a weird back and forth that just kept right on escalating.

Condom set aside, Cullen took hold of the other thing he’d whipped out from his bedside table of wonders. He went to pull back but Dorian kept him close again, not sure why he liked making it difficult, why he liked throwing obstacles.

Maybe it was drawing it out, maybe it was delaying the inevitable or maybe just making Cullen work that little bit harder, proving that Dorian was _worth_ it. Proving so much when he kissed Dorian, messy, wet and _deep,_ and popped the cap of the lube, drizzled it over his fingers and then lowered them, accidentally leaving a thin trail over Dorian’s abdomen, over his straining cock, his tightly drawn balls. His skin was hypersensitive, every touch resonating like a gong in his lower abdomen.

Dorian parted his legs, helpful there if nowhere else, and felt Cullen’s slick fingers gently seeking. Wet and cool, first just smearing and circling his perineum and fuck, but Cullen was getting really fucking _good_ at kissing him while doing other things now, his tongue halfway down Dorian’s throat as he cleverly brought the tube of lube down and squeezed a generous amount between Dorian’s cleft.

It was sharply cool in contrast to the sweltering heat of the room, neither one smart enough to turn on the air-conditioning and he almost jumped to feel so much of it there. Cullen moaned into his mouth, something that might have been soothing and reassuring when he slipped the tip of his index finger into that tight clutch of heat. Dorian clung hard to him, unable to even _think_ of permitting space between them then.

In and out, teasing and shallow at first and Dorian already wanted so much more, knew he would be impatient with this level of care for how fucking crazy his heart was beating, cock dribbling precome at a steady rate, his skin ready to melt off.

But he didn’t beg, didn’t rush, didn’t scold.

‘Fuck,’ he moaned as Cullen’s strong finger reached the first knuckle.

‘Good?’

‘So good,’ he babbled. ‘So, so good.’

Cullen was tightly wound above him and when he pulled away enough to see, to look down, Dorian knew he was being assessed, that Cullen was checking he was OK. The desire to snap impatiently and beg, _plead_ , for more was strong but the instinct to reassure Cullen was far, far stronger.

‘I love it,’ he told the blond, aiming for sincere and landing on mawkish. ‘I love— _love_ what you’re doing. Give me more?’

Cullen did as he asked, pushing his perfectly slick, warm finger deeper into Dorian, and oh, it was both too much and nowhere near enough. Dorian couldn’t quite help himself when his hips rolled, seeking to deepen the intrusion. Cullen took that as a sign, or seemed to, and inch by maddening inch, he added another finger, carefully stretching and scissoring Dorian open, kissing him deep and wild, in blinding contrast to his ministrations.

By the third, Dorian was ready to _keen_. He was ready to beg, to offer fucking _marriage_ if it meant Cullen’s cock inside him, great, big beautiful thing stretching him wide and filling him up in that way he needed.

‘Cullen, I’m ready.’

‘Not yet.’

Dorian couldn’t contain that bite of bratty impatience when he hissed and ground himself down on the three fingers currently inside him, stroking him. His hands were braced on Cullen’s shoulders when Cullen found that magical spot, that place that no-one but Dorian himself had ever cared to find and fucking _stars_ exploded behind his eyes, breath gone, nought left behind but a deeply slutty groan, back arching off the bed.

‘More,’ he panted shallowly. ‘More, more, _more_.’

Cullen gave him more, zeroed in on that spot with laser precision, driving Dorian fucking _mad_ , causing his cock to jerk and weep, threatening to come untouched if this continued.

‘Fuck me,’ Dorian demanded, eyes rolling back from the onslaught of merciless pleasure. ‘Fuck me, Cullen. Three fingers is plenty.’

‘No, you need a fourth.’

Dorian’s mouth dropped open, indignant litany at the ready but Cullen, sneaky fucker, stuck his tongue inside and kissed Dorian like the world was ending, removing his hand, slicking it up even more and then pushing _four_ fingers inside him.

The burn and stretch were definitely edging towards painful that time, but Dorian’s wires were all crossed; pain was pleasure, pleasure was _bliss_ and bliss was unbearable. He was fucking himself on Cullen’s hand, he really, truly was, like a bitch in heat, like the neediest cockslut alive and it was _him_ spewing the litany of filthy noises now, it was _he_ who begged wordlessly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes because he was just so empty, needed Cullen inside him.

And Cullen seemed to judge he was sufficiently prepared when he slowly withdrew his clever, heat-seeking fingers and took his cock in hand, lining the thick, blunt head against Dorian’s entrance, freshly slick and sinfully _empty_.

 _‘Now_ you’re ready,’ Cullen whispered against Dorian’s lips.

‘Ready to take you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re going to fuck me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Even though I was bratty?’

Cullen smiled, licking into his mouth for a shallow, messy kiss that moved and slanted, that claimed and teased. ‘Maybe _because._ _’_

Nose to nose, he began to push himself inside and Dorian’s immediate reaction was to take a moment and appreciate that Cullen had been _so very right_ about needing a fourth finger.

Cullen was fucking _huge_ and Dorian didn’t really know how he’d missed it last night. Thought back to sucking him off in the dark, lips stretched wide around that glorious thing, revelling in the taste, in all of Cullen’s reactions but it hadn’t struck him then as _this_ big.

Dorian’s back arched, couldn’t help it and sounds tore out of him; a half pained, half _delirious_ slew of noises, each one that Cullen kissed away and kept for himself as he shallowly, painstakingly pushed himself inside bit by bit. He was careful, he held back without any indication of giving in, even though it must have felt good, must have felt incredible, judging by how tight Dorian was.

‘Ughhh _God_!’

Cullen sucked wet, deep kisses up the column of Dorian’s throat, reaching down to palm his cock, hand still slick with lube as he finally, _finally_ bottomed out inside of him.

When he could go no deeper, that massive cock fully sheathed in Dorian’s tight clutch, he paused, pressing smaller kisses everywhere, over Dorian’s jawline, cheeks and face, returning to his lips and kissing him sweetly, lovingly, even as he trembled.

Trembled with the sheer effort of restraint, Dorian realised distantly, body adjusting to the stretch, to Cullen’s girth and size. It took his breath away, left his solar plexus half spasming, the feel of Cullen inside him.

He was _full,_ completely filled with this other man and it was strange, to have someone so deep inside and to yet want _more_. He let out a soft sob, clinging to Cullen, emotions all over the place and when his eyes stung with the hint of tears, Cullen noticed right away, seemed hyper-aware of every single thing Dorian was feeling.

He caressed Dorian’s temples, brushing the tears away as he looked down at him, light brown eyes moving intently between silver grey.

‘I don’t know how I got so lucky,’ Cullen told him then, deep and raw and so fucking _honest_. ‘Thought it was a dream when I woke up this morning, but,’ he added, stroking Dorian’s face as he swallowed hard. ‘There you were.’

Dorian didn’t think he could actually feel _more_ than he already was, overwhelmed and simply drowning in sensation, but it was the _more_ he needed. He pulled Cullen down into a kiss that offered no reprieve, no hint of ever resurfacing and he rolled his hips against Cullen, pleading silently, a small sob cresting between their lips.

Slow and shallow, Cullen pulled out barely an inch and then pushed back inside. Over and over, gradual and careful, always kissing, always caressing and making plain how much he _cared_ , Cullen began to fuck Dorian. It was too slow, wasn’t what Dorian’s body screamed for, but Cullen wouldn’t have it and Dorian knew that too, wouldn’t risk hurting him, not until he was sure. Sure Dorian could take it, sure he wouldn’t break, _sure_ he was enjoying it.

Like Dorian _wasn_ _’t_ laying there, moaning like a God damned whore and fucking _crying_ because he was so overstimulated, his heart couldn’t take it.

Each thrust went deeper, a little more _sure_ as Dorian’s clinging eased, as he began to babble things, encouragements coming thick and fast. The longer thrusts were angled to catch his prostate on the way in and it was a fucking _miracle_ Dorian hadn’t come already, white hot pleasure tightening like a compressed spring inside him.

‘More,’ he was chanting, fingernails dug deep in Cullen’s back, deep enough to _hurt_ but he couldn’t stop himself. He moved his body in time with Cullen’s, fucking himself on that huge cock as much as Cullen was fucking him. The pain had shifted into pleasure, that strange _tightness_ becoming something that felt good. Bodies sliding perfectly together, slick and needy, Dorian’s cock trapped between them, leaking steadily. It was like being caught in pleasure limbo, the feeling of it _so good_ , but still not enough, not _quite_ enough to tip him over.

‘Fucking me so good,’ he praised brokenly, breathlessly as Cullen mouthed along his jawline, nosing his cheek and panting harshly. ‘Your cock inside me feels like heaven, you know that?’

Cullen nodded slowly, eyes so heavily glazed and yet so _focused_ Dorian couldn’t contain a small gasp. It was enough to blindside him, even in this state, the sheer _sight_ of Cullen. Curls wet with sweat, face glistening in the light from those weird lamps, his lips all red and _bitten_. The depth of Dorian’s feelings then were such that he wanted Cullen’s teeth in him, wanted that mark of pure fucking _ownership_ , wanted to praise Cullen to the fucking skies and make him come from it.

‘You f-feel like home,’ he told Dorian then, all expression wiped away, leaving him young and bare, nothing but that dent in his brow, concentration and still, _still_ restrained. It was his restraint that hit differently, that made the encounter into something that would leave a permanent mark on Dorian.

New, new, new. All this kindness, all this caring.

Dorian was _ruined._

‘Show me,’ he urged, throat thick. ‘Make me feel it.’

In lieu of asking if Dorian was sure, brown eyes scoured grey for any hint of doubt and when he began to fuck Dorian _proper,_ Dorian was thrilled that he’d found nothing but honesty in turn.

He fucked Dorian _hard_ , every single thrust hitting that spot, bottoming out each time and it was a sonata of slapping skin, of continuous moaning and pleading, of words that made no sense, of saying one another’s names over and _over_. It was ecstasy flooding his blood, it was pure, unfiltered _love_ in every fucking thrust of his hard, perfect cock into Dorian’s body. It was perfection in mess, inelegance in emerging grace as they found _that rhythm._ That rhythm that was going to make Dorian fall apart, make him come, make him fucking _burst_ into glittering light.

‘Give me everything,’ Dorian chanted, fingers pulling on golden curls just to see Cullen’s eyes roll because he liked that, he liked it when Dorian pulled his hair. ‘Give me all of you, Cullen.’

Cullen keened and it broke at the end, expression screwing tighter, as if in pain. ‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ _’_

‘I want your come inside me, I wanna feel you _fill_ me up, darling, want you leaking— _ohhh_!—out of me all night, yes, oh God, _yes_!’

Cullen was reduced to incoherent noises, slave to the rhythm between them, perfect and utterly _flawless_ movement of their bodies and Dorian was so close, _so close_. He just needed, _oh fuck_ , he needed—

‘Say you love me.’

Cullen’s hips slammed into him, whole body arching as he made a gorgeously loud noise; a cross between a groan and a drawn out _cry_ , followed immediately by, ‘I love you, Dorian, I _love_ you, fuck, I love you so much!’

It was the additional downshift of Cullen’s abdomen pressing hard against his leaking cock. It was the feel of Cullen coming inside him, hot and thick and so _much._ It was seeing Cullen’s own pleasure materialise, born of _love._

But it was the words, most of all.

And when Dorian came, his entire lower abdomen cramping before his body was subject to a downward plummet that shook him to his very foundations, it was with Cullen inside him, Cullen all around him, Cullen’s name on his lips and the man so very fucking deep in his heart.

It was too much, something so wonderful it verged on being _painful_ and it felt like it went on forever. Coming and coming, his cock rigid and helplessly caught in the throes as his orgasm smashed over him, coming between their stomachs, eyes rolled back, simply fucking _drowning_ in it.

Too much _good_ , too much _beauty_ , too much _love_.

Cullen was kissing his chest when it began to ebb. Was mouthing at the skin, teeth gently scraping over his nipple, over sensitive flesh. Dorian’s hands were tightly tangled in his hair and he hadn’t realised until then. He took a deep breath and let the air flow through him, like he hadn’t actually been _breathing._ He hadn’t felt the need until then. Fingers turned loose, slipping free, sliding down the sides of Cullen’s face.

Cullen, who was still inside him, shallow gasps levelling into something more even and Christ, but they were _soaked_ in sweat and come and kisses. The beautiful man above nosed at him like a sleepy cat, seeking out another kiss; one trembling, shuddering kiss. Still inside, still kissing him, still _there_.

Dorian’s heart, though. His poor fucking _heart._

Most considerately, Cullen did _not_ flop on top of him and therefore crush him, instead easing out carefully and crashing sideways, causing the mattress to bounce Dorian a little.

‘Fucking hell.’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian agreed, a slight ringing in his ears. ‘Yeah, that’s… one way to sum it up.’

Dorian felt almost _numb_ , his nervous system prickling with returning feeling and a massive rush of endorphins, of clever chemicals that had his head spinning. 

Rolling onto his side, he sought Cullen out, hand resting on his chest and he could feel the beat beneath his palm; hard and impossibly fast as if Cullen had been running flat out. The blond lifted his arm and draped it over his eyes, just laying there, breathing while Dorian watched him, idly wondering what would happen next.

It was difficult not to compare. Not to take previous experiences and watch Cullen with a level of expectation that he simply didn’t deserve. Dorian wanted to be fine with whatever way it went. Sex… sex changed things. Full on sex always changed things.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said after a few beats and Dorian’s heart did a sad downward flip, the words taking them down a familiar path previously walked by others. ‘Fuck, I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to _not_ say it now.’

Dorian, who had been mentally pulling on his Raincoat of Sadness in preparation for what he suspected would be _tough talks_ , blinked slowly. The blond lay there naked and glistening with sweat in a room where _still_ no one had put the air-con on, arm thrown over his eyes as his heartbeat slowly returned to less dangerous levels.

And maybe Dorian was still bit _shook_ from all the earth shattering sex. ‘Um, sorry?’

Cullen’s exhale was long and shaky. ‘ I’m just… Dorian I’m so in love with you, it’s crazy. I know I shouldn’t say it, I _know_ I shouldn’t, I’ve seen movies. You wait until you both feel the same and I’m trying, but… God. I just want to say it to you all the time. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry.’

‘You— _what_?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, you—you’re sorry for what, exactly?’

‘For saying I love you.’

Dorian shook himself, bemused face unnoticed by Cullen who was essentially hiding. ‘I _told_ you to say that.’

‘Yes, but now I want to say it all the time,’ Cullen whined, flushed chest rising and falling rapidly again. Dorian moved closer, scooted so they were touching again which was much better. Wrapped his knee around Cullen’s and interlocked them, keeping him right there should he do anything like try to _leave._ ‘I’m so sorry, I really am, I wish I wasn’t—’

‘I _told_ you to,’ he repeated sternly. ‘Which means, you moron, that I _wanted_ to hear it. Or did you not feel me fucking explode when you said it?’

Cullen still didn’t look at him, didn’t move his arm away. Kept himself hidden. Dorian wanted to prise it back, make him look and see that it was all fine, _way_ better than fine, but he had a better idea.

Slowly, he lowered himself to bring their lips together again, kissing Cullen gently. Just a press at first, a small point of contact and when Cullen moved his arm away, Dorian replaced it with his own hand covering those eyes, keeping him hidden even while his mouth slanted against Cullen’s to get that better angle, _deeper_ angle, tongue curling against Cullen’s,

‘You,’ he said, punctuating with smaller kisses. ‘Are. So. Perfect.’

Cullen shook his head and Dorian did his very best to kiss it all away, to chase any aspect of _bad_ and replace it with only _best._ ‘Feel me kissing you,’ he whispered, hand still covering Cullen’s eyes. ‘Feel me right here with you. Hear my voice. You’re perfect.’

‘’M not,’ Cullen managed whenever there was a tiny break in the onslaught of kisses. ‘I’m too much, always too much and over the top and—’

‘Shhh,’ Dorian bade, half lying atop him now, chest to chest in the heat, sharing a breath between them, palm and fingers still making a blindfold. ‘Listen to the sound of my voice, Cullen. Hear it as truth when I say that whatever you are, however _much_ you are, it’s exactly what I need and want. Am I lying?’

Cullen swallowed. ‘No.’

‘Good,’ he praised, deep and fervent, despite his exhaustion, pride curling through him. ‘You’re so fucking _good_ for me, you know that? You’re _good_ for me, you’re like a fucking vitamin. You brighten my day, you make me smile, make me strong. You make me want to be the best version of myself. You make me _happy_ , Christ, can’t you see it?’

‘Well,’ Cullen said fairly. ‘Your hand _is_ over my eyes.’

‘Hmm, well,’ Dorian said, lifting Cullen’s hand in turn and placing it over his heart, still thudding fast and thick. ‘Can’t you _feel_ it, then?’

The pair of them were messy and sweaty, intimate and sticky, touching everywhere and Dorian had never felt this _close_ to anyone else. It was right _there,_ lodged in his throat, tip of his tongue, words he swore he’d never say to anyone ever again.

‘Maybe.’

Cullen’s uncertainty damn near broke Dorian’s heart, made it even harder to bite back that declaration. He wanted Cullen to be _sure_ , to never want to hide ever again. He wanted Cullen to say he loved him and he wanted to be able to say it back, casually, meaningfully, across a table and between their lips.

Because there was no doubt then, no doubt whatsoever that he _was_ in love with him. It wasn’t some massive rush of realisation, no breathless stranglehold of astonishment. It was solid, steady and unwavering. It felt like it had _always_ been there, may well have, right from the start. Since that stupid _interview_ where Cullen had tripped over his own words and eventually laughed, started over again and Dorian had been helpless but to give him a chance.

‘Feel it for me,’ Dorian urged, the hot press of Cullen’s hand beneath his heart like a brand, like something that would never wash away. _Feel it, please feel it because I can_ _’t say it yet, even though I feel it, even though I know it._ ‘Feel it, Cullen. Trust that you make me happy, that you’re perfect.’

‘I’m not—’

‘You’re perfect _for me_ ,’ Dorian swiftly cut over. ‘Everything about you, all your little imperfections, the crazy quirks and yes, even your mental way of making tea - it’s all perfect for me. You’re beautiful and you make me feel things I didn’t think were even real.’

Cullen’s fingers stroked at the skin over Dorian’s heart, brow creasing beneath Dorian’s palm. ‘I get so flustered, mess up around you.’

‘That just means you care, that you’re not detached enough to set up a big scene and really think it through.’

 _That just makes me trust you and love you even more,_ he didn’t say.

‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone.’

‘I haven’t either.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

Cullen smiled. He had the most beautiful smile which, yes, Dorian might have reflected upon three or four million times before, but God, it just never really got _old_ , the way his mouth curved, made Dorian want to devote his whole life to keeping it right there, always.

‘You don’t mind that I… that I love you?’

‘This is a very weird conversation,’ Dorian pointed out kindly.

‘I know, I’m sorry.’

Lightly, easily, Dorian tilted his head. ‘Don’t be sorry. Weird is good. Weird is wonderful. I _love_ that you love me.’

He watched Cullen swallow, watched that movement so fucking raptly and he knew he’d want this again, maybe with a blindfold. Make Cullen feel beautiful and safe, make him squirm with praise without needing to feel tethered to the world just then.

They were whispering like kids who couldn’t risk raised voices. Cullen turned enough to kiss the inside of Dorian’s wrist.

‘I don’t want to make you feel trapped,’ he confessed to Dorian, lips moving against the delicate skin containing that pulse point. ‘Don’t want to pressure you by saying it.’

‘You’re not.’

‘Promise you’ll tell me if I am?’

Dorian leaned in and touched his lips to Cullen, not a kiss, just to press there while he said, ‘I promise, darling.’

Cullen arched up and Dorian loved the way he was, just loved everything about him. Strong and yet so pliant, so able to control himself except when it was Dorian. Cullen made the touch into a kiss and Dorian smiled, finally slipping his hand away, caressing his face and bringing them flush against one another, the reversal so beautiful that it hurt Dorian’s heart.

Cullen looked up at him, a million things in those eyes that Dorian couldn’t name and _one_ he knew, solidly, believed with every fibre of his being.

Strong fingers traced gentle patterns into the skin of Dorian’s back, circles and swirls like magic depicted in art.

‘I love you,’ Cullen dared whisper.

_I love you too, I love you so much I can barely stand it, I love you, Cullen, I_ _’ll never not love you, I’m too far gone, lost to everything about you, ruined for anyone else. I love you, I love you, I love you._

And all right, maybe Dorian still had hang-ups about saying that _word_ , maybe he wasn’t quite ready to put it out there and take that last step even if he knew… he _knew_ that he was in love with Cullen, heart and soul. Not ready to say that yet but there was something he _was_ happy to say, to ask instead.

‘Will you be my boyfriend?’

Oh, it should be illegal, that smile.

*

Shower _again_.

Kissing _again_.

Sweat and come washed away and Cullen didn’t seem to want to let go of Dorian. Kept finding reasons to touch him.

Dorian was giddy, was _dizzy_ with happiness. Light enough to float away, to think the world a perfect place and wish that everyone could be as happy as he was.

His _boyfriend_ Cullen Rutherford kissed him when they were dry, when they were dressed.

 _Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend_.

‘Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,’ Cullen said, pulling on a pair of black boots.

‘Oh?’ Dorian said, sat behind him on the bed, playing with his hair and nuzzling his neck. ‘Dumping me, are you?’

Cullen snorted. ‘Hardly. I was going to say about the thing tonight.’ He tied the laces and then turned, pulling Dorian onto his lap to straddle him. With the air-con on and the balcony doors slightly open, the room was at last cool and fresh once more, Dorian’s skin tingling from the shower gel, excitement from Cullen’s mere _touch_ a living thing inside him. ‘There’ll be other singers there.’

Dorian nodded, kissing the end of Cullen’s nose seriously. ‘Right.’

‘And I know you said you want to go, but I just wanted to make it clear that you really don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable for me. It’s a whole thing where I’ll be singing with others as well as a solo set.’

Dorian studied him, helpless but to kiss his nose again while he continued to idly play with his hair. ‘Hmm.’ He began to think. _Other_ singers. Other musicians who weren’t his Cullen. Admittedly a rather _bleugh_ prospect.

‘I might give it a miss,’ Dorian said hesitantly. ‘If that’s OK?’

Cullen smiled, arms wrapping around his waist. ‘Of course. I want what you want.’

Just like that, so easy.

Dorian kept right on thinking, though, an _idea_ forming. A lovely one.

‘Although,’ he said. ‘Would it be OK if I still came into the city part with you all? There’ll be a supermarket somewhere right?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine and there is a big one just outside the North fork,’ Cullen said, eyes narrowing, smile curving. ‘But why?’

Dorian shrugged. ‘It’s a surprise.’

*

‘Dorian’s staying too? Yes!’

‘Calm yourself,’ Fenris sighed, rolling his eyes at Alistair.

They were gathered in the kitchen, all dressed up for the _set_ as Cullen had called it. Rosalie was dressed much the same as she had for their night out, fresh new outfit and her hair in a thick braid that Dorian had watched Fenris weave for her like it was second nature.

The other three were dressed differently, subtle shift between this and their attire from last night. Leliana was all professional, sharp beauty once more. Josephine was the height of anti-fashion, phone at the ready. Fenris was low key, dark muted shades giving him the ability to blend in and be ready to protect those he loved.

And Alistair was… not dressed up at all. Was wearing Leliana’s green silky dressing gown and a pair of shorts, eating cereal and grinning excitedly when Dorian said he was staying behind.

‘You’re not going?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘Not my thing. It’s work for them. Don’t want to get in the way, spinning my princess around and kissing her within an inch of her life!’

Leliana smiled fondly without looking up from her phone.

‘You’re sure?’ Fenris asked Dorian. ‘Because you can hang out with me, lurk around while I make sure it’s safe. You could even wear headphones.’

Dorian laughed. ‘Thanks, but no.’

Cullen let Josephine do his hair, still slightly _messy_ from Dorian’s ministrations. ‘Dorian has plans.’

‘Plans for all of us or like, more plans for you two?’ Josie asked, mischievous smile in place.

‘Plans for everyone,’ Dorian said, checking the fridge and mentally making a list of what he needed.

 _‘Ooh,_ can I help?’

Dorian peered around the fridge at Alistair; the dude was barefoot in swim-shorts and a silky dressing gown, his hair standing up like he’d been electrocuted, smiling toothily, spoon dripping milk over the floor.

‘Um, yeah sure.’

 _‘Yes_! I’m _so_ good at helping!’

‘You’re very helpful, baby,’ Leliana intoned smoothly, finally stowing her phone.

Alistair beamed and set his bowl down, wandering off to get dressed Dorian presumed (hoped).

‘That works out great, actually,’ Cullen said. ‘We can take both jeeps and Alistair can drive you back.’

‘I set up the security to recognise your thumb print,’ Fenris told him. ‘Do you remember the code?’

It was a long code, eight whole digits. ‘Um.’

‘It’s OK, do you want me to text it to you?’

Dorian pictured himself getting locked out, having to call them and ask for help. ‘Maybe.’

Josie finished Cullen’s hair - now a golden masterpiece of artistically contained curls, save for one right at the front which hung free and adorable. Cullen looked fucking _incredible_ and Dorian had to take a solid breath as he closed the fridge, astonished that someone so beautiful could be his _boyfriend._

‘No problem,’ Fenris said easily, dropping Dorian an effortlessly reassuring wink. ‘It changes every day so it’s not something you need to guard with your life. Remember to only hold your thumb on the scanner for two seconds, no more than that. It’ll trigger a silent alarm if you do, OK?’

‘Got it,’ Dorian said, hoping it was true. Christ, that would be embarrassing.

‘After two seconds, it will beep affirmative, so you’ll know when to let go. If anything was wrong, you’d keep on pressing. I promise,’ the white blond added with a grin. ‘It’s not so tricky.’

‘I guess I’ll get used to it,’ Dorian said, thinking of his own loft back home and how it was probably adorned with the same kind of security.

‘So, to be clear, you’re making dinner?’ Josie asked, bright smile in place. ‘Because if not, I can get us a table or—

‘No, I’m making dinner, definitely,’ Dorian said with more confidence than he felt, but he was determined to make it nice, somehow.

‘Perfect! I can’t wait!’

‘I’m ready!’ Alistair yelled, flying down the stairs in a way that made Dorian nervous because there was no banister on those things. He skidded into the room like a great big puppy, decked out in an oversized Hawaiian style shirt, straw hat and sunglasses, flip flops and the same shorts as before.

‘Standard,’ Fenris commented, nodding.

*

Cullen sat in the back of the Jeep with Dorian, Lee up front while Fenris drove. Rosalie, Josie and Alistair were in the other Jeep. Cullen and Dorian held hands the whole way. Sometimes, as they drove through woodlands doused in twilight and past mountains barely outlined in the setting sun, Cullen would lift Dorian’s hand and press a kiss there, smiling. They sat close, almost cuddling, but not quite.

Up front, Fenris and Leliana talked back and forth in a calm, quiet way. Conversation only slightly strained whenever the discussion veered into the kind of territory that referenced a certain bouncy sex worker in the Jeep ahead of them.

Dorian tried to give them their privacy, checking his phone now and then whenever not resting his head on Cullen’s shoulder. Cullen occasionally hummed a small tune, clearly distracted and Dorian didn’t want to interrupt so they remained quiet, touching always in companionable silence.

‘So,’ Fenris said as they turned into brighter streets. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Yes,’ Leliana added in that tone she reserved for anyone outside of their _triangle_ , meaning she was speaking mostly to Dorian. ‘I don’t think I said so already, but we’re pleased for you both.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ Dorian said, helplessly awkward.

‘I’ll almost miss all the pining,’ Fenris said, a smile in his tone, teasing and playful. ‘All the lingering looks.’

Lee snorted. ‘It’ll just increase tenfold now. Newlywed syndrome.’

‘Fuck off, the pair of you,’ Cullen said in a loving, eye-roll kind of way.

When Leliana turned around, Dorian steeled himself.

‘Now, Dorian,’ she said. ‘The other two have rather _ruthlessly_ forbade me from asking—’

_‘Lee!’_

‘But that’s hardly going to stop me, so I wanted to know if you’d consider signing an NDA?’

‘An…?’

‘Non-Disclosure Agreement.’

‘Oh, yeah right. I… suppose that’s fine?’ he said, looking at Cullen for guidance but the blond was shaking his head at Leliana, clearly displeased.

‘Please understand, it’s not a lack of trust. If anything, quite the opposite. I would never ask this of someone I considered a passing interest.’

‘Lee, stop,’ Fenris said firmly, but she ignored him, green eyes on Dorian.

‘What do you think?’ she asked, even though Dorian had more or less agreed.

‘I think I’d be happy to sign whatever,’ he said honestly, shrugging. ‘If it makes you feel better and… well, gives everyone a sense of ease about me being here.’

He thought of how Alistair had signed one upon arrival, tried not to bristle at the comparison, knew that Leliana was just being protective and pragmatic, but _still_ , fucking ouch.

‘You would?’

‘Yeah, I would.’

‘Right now?’

‘I mean, if you’ve got a pen and don’t mind a wonky signature.’

Leliana broke into a wide, pleased smile. Perhaps the nicest one Dorian had seen yet and Cullen sighed, shaking his head.

‘All right,’ she said, contented and satisfied. ‘Last time, I promise.’

And then she turned away, leaving Dorian waiting for this fucking _NDA_ that was supposed to materialise.

‘I apologise,’ Fenris said, looking at Dorian in the rear-view. ‘We told her not to.’

‘Not to wh—wait, was that a _test?_ _’_

Leliana sounded downright pleasant. _‘_ Only a little one.’

‘I told you there was no need,’ Cullen sighed. He wasn’t angry at all and Dorian wondered at their friendship, he really did sometimes.

‘Yes, well now I know.’

Cullen kissed Dorian’s hand again and whispered, ‘Sorry. Best to let her do her thing nine times out of ten.’

‘Ten out of ten,’ she corrected.

‘So, you _don_ _’t_ want me to sign an NDA?’

 _‘_ The fact that you were _willing_ to is fine,’ Leliana said. ‘They’re best for professional relationships.’

Fenris made the _tiniest_ noise in the back of his throat; ghost of what might have been a snort.

They pulled up outside of a massive, brightly lit S _uper Marché_ and parked in the car park. Cullen got out with Dorian, Alistair and the others approaching to say goodbye.

‘I’ll miss you terribly,’ Dorian promised Cullen, encircling his arms about his neck and drawing him into a kiss.

‘Be thinking of you the whole time.’

‘Mmmkay, go on. Sing well, make me proud.’

‘Yeah, do _Swim Into the Tide!_ _’_ Alistair suggested cheerfully. ‘That’s the only one I like.’

Dorian frowned, the name of the song _familiar_ somehow. He had a mental picture of Lana all tied up with the words, but he put it out of his mind and bid the others farewell. Alistair stood beside him and watched one Jeep drive away, leaving them the other.

‘Right!’ Alistair said, facing Dorian with that wide, almost _contagious_ smile. ‘Are you ready?’

Dorian squinted suspiciously. ‘For what?’

‘For the time of your life, obviously!’ Alistair scoffed, pulling Dorian by the hem of his tee towards the doors of the massive shop. ‘Because you have not been shopping… until you’ve been shopping with me!’

*

No sooner were they inside, pushing a trolley, did Dorian realise he had no money on him, wallet back at the mansion.

‘Oh, fuck.’

Alistair had been looking at sandwiches. ‘What?’

‘I didn’t bring my wallet.’

‘Is that all? Hardly even worthy of a fuck. No worries!’ the man dismissed easily, whipping out his own. ‘My treat!’

‘No, no, that’s—’

‘Don’t be so silly! Do you know how often I get to actually _do things_ , like help? I’m psyched! Let me pay, c’mon! I’ve got this massive company credit card and they’ll drop dead of shock to see me buying actual food with it,’ he laughed.

‘I can pay you back once we’re—’ Dorian began weakly, but Alistair shushed him, lifting his sunglasses to indicate seriousness.

‘Dorian,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you understand. We’re in a supermarket. I fucking _love_ supermarkets. I’m going to buy an obscene amount of shit I don’t need, won’t take with me and will likely never even think about again. I saw picnic baskets on the way in here. I saw _tiki torches_. I’m going to be buying a lot of shit and I need you to support me in that, OK?’

Dorian laughed, shaking his head. ‘OK, you have my support.’

‘Good man! Now, I assume we’re doing this whole thing _a la Cullen,_ as in freshly made and not cheating with ready meals?’

Dorian leaned on the trolley as they browsed, Alistair throwing things in randomly. ‘You suppose correctly.’

‘Excellent. I’m _very_ good at helping with cooking too. We should probably buy new plates and cutlery, don’t you think? Mark the occasion!’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary.’

‘ _Necessary? PFFFT!_ Who cares about necessity when—ooh, look! Vegetables!’

Dorian started mentally calculating what they would actually need while Alistair began doing several very rude things with the unfortunately phallic vegetables, earning him looks of mild horror from most of the late night shoppers.

‘What are we making, by the way?’

‘Well, it’s going to be a kind of clam bake on the beach.’

Alistair’s eyes widened, jaw dropping. ‘HOLY SHIT, YES!’

Dorian glanced around, relieved that no one seemed to care about two annoying British guys causing a scene. ‘Well, I’m hoping it will be anyway.’

Alistair clapped Dorian on the back. ‘Bringing out the big guns, eh? That’s sure to impress him.’

‘It’s not to… hmm, not to impress him. I just know he’ll like it.’

‘What are you doing for Josie?’

‘I saw this recipe for vegan tacos and it looked amazing, so I’m making this too plus there’s a whole sheet bake of root vegetables to go with the clams so I’ll make a separate tray.’

Alistair pushed the trolley alongside Dorian, nudging him. ‘You’re like part of their family.’

Dorian thought of the _NDA_ test, of Cullen’s hand in his and of earlier, of how his fucking world had been _rocked_ and shaken until he felt remade, light, fresh and hopeful.

‘Hmm,’ he commented, not sure of what else to say.

Alistair kept pulling things into the trolley, barely even looking at them while Dorian scoured keenly for what he needed to make dinner, mostly looking out for ginormous pots of some kind.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure,’ Dorian said, distracted by the confusing layout of the fresh fish section, seeing clams and mussels but unsure if they were the right _kind_. Some were pre-cooked, some were raw and some—

‘I don’t want to upset you.’

Oh.

Dorian looked at him, caught the wariness and knew immediately what was coming.

‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he answered in a resigned kind of way before Alistair had a chance to pose the question. It was a tightening in his chest, a reminder of bad things, but bad things that seemed very far away just then beneath the bright, unflattering lights of a supermarket where the announcements over the tannoy were in French. ‘I’m the guy.’

Slowly, Alistair nodded. ‘I didn’t want to ask the others but, I thought maybe I recognised you. Made sense with the uh… not liking music.’

‘Yeah, well. That’s me. Saw it on YouTube, did you?’

‘I’m sorry. I always thought that was a shitty thing to do and it was so obvious that he’d staged it. I’m really sorry you went through that.’

Dorian shrugged. ‘I appreciate you saying it.’

‘I think we need these ones,’ Alistair offered, pointing at a certain pack of clear wrapped clams sitting on ice.

‘Ah, yeah, I think you’re right.’

‘I always hated their music,’ the other man said, grabbing far too many of the packs once Dorian had agreed they were correct. The trolley was already almost full. ‘And that guy, the lead singer, he seems like a complete prick.’

It just registered like _tiredness_ , the thought of Harry, of how he was seen by anyone else. It was effort, thinking about him. Giving him any measure of attention when all Dorian’s attention was so firmly elsewhere.

‘Y’know,’ he said. ‘You’re completely right. He’s an absolute prick.’

‘You should get Fenris to fuck him up,’ Alistair said, entirely serious. ‘He’d do it, he likes you, I can tell. Talked about you a lot when you and Cullen were “ _Looking For Your Charger._ _”_

Dorian shot him a smirk in return, the atmosphere lifting easily at the mere mention of Cullen’s name. Dorian’s heart really liked that name. His _boyfriend_ _’s_ name.

‘Yeah, I like him too. He’s great,’ Dorian said, of Fenris. ‘They’re all great, though. I’ve never really met people like them. Not nice ones, anyway.’

‘Agreed. I know a lot of musicians and they _pretend_ to be humble, but most of them actually aren’t. Cullen’s a good guy. They’re all good people.’ Alistair sighed extravagantly as they headed into a clothes section. ‘I wish I could spend more time with them. I have a lot of downtime, especially in winter and, well. It’d be nice to hang out with them.’

It was right on the tip of Dorian’s tongue to ask, ‘ _why don_ _’t you?’_ when he remembered that Alistair was being paid to be there, that Lee preferred to hire people so that they could be easily dismissed whenever she needed.

‘Well,’ Dorian said, a nasty prickle of guilt at the base of his spine for the guy he’d barely known a day. ‘You could come hang out with me sometimes, back in London.’

Alistair looked up at Dorian from the socks he’d been raptly examining. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘Of course I do. Who offers something like that and doesn’t mean it?’

Alistair shrugged. ‘Everybody?’

Dorian vaguely knew that to be true. Knew it was something people said sometimes, especially on holiday.

_You must come stay with us! We_ _’ll summer together! Bring the kids! They’ll love playing with Dorian!_

How many times had his parents said such a thing to everyone they befriended while in Bali? And how many times had it materialised?

‘Well, _I_ mean it,’ Dorian insisted staunchly. ‘If you’re ever at a loose end and want to hang out in a loft with a nice view and a tiny bathroom, the offer is there. I’d warn you about my friends, but you’ll probably get along with them great, to be honest.’

Alistair took his sunglasses off. ‘Are you… being serious?’

‘Here, I’ll text you my address.’

‘That’s so nice,’ he said in a small voice. ‘Won’t Cullen be there, though?’

Dorian pulled his phone out. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘Well, if you think it’d be OK, I’d uh, I’d really like that.’

‘Great. What’s your number?’

Alistair reeled it off and Dorian saved it, heading to his messages which was when he saw he had _seven_ unread messages from Cullen. Seven.

‘He’s texted me,’ he said aloud, lips curling into a soft smile.

Alistair brightened immediately. ‘He has? Oooh, what did he say?’

‘Hang on, let me send you my address.’

Dorian typed the new message quickly, misspelling London, but too excited to correct it. Then he backed out and went into the messages, heart beating fast.

**Miss you already x**

**You were so beautiful when we drove away I couldn** **’t stop looking at you. Not in like a stalker way though, I promise x**

**French people are so rude. Lee is in her element and Rosie is flirting with some guy who is literally named Olivier. Fenris said it** **’s good you didn’t come and I agree, even though I miss you so much it hurts xxx**

**I can** **’t wait to see you when we get home. Don’t know how I’ll be able to keep away from you. You’re all I can think about xxx**

**Shit, I** **’m message bombing you, aren’t I? Sorry. Will try to be more chill. Play it cool. Yeah, totally. See you around, Pavus x**

**OK, I** **’m shite at playing anything cool. Miss you, love you, can’t wait to be with you again xxx**

‘Oh my God, it’s even cuter than I thought!’

Dorian tried to muster up some level of affront that Alistair had read the messages upside down but was far too busy melting into a quivery pile of shivery _goo_ to succeed.

‘His kiss game is all off though, bless him.’

Dorian looked up. ‘Yeah, he did that before.’

Alistair nodded wisely. ‘He’s the kind that sits there, typing out five kisses, deleting two and then nervously biting his lip thinking he should have stuck with one. No one understands how many kisses to put. It’s one for flirting, two for family, three for true love, four for an apology and five to warn that you’re mental.’

‘Is that real?’ Dorian asked, rereading the messages. ‘Or did you just make that up?’

‘Both. What are you gonna reply?’

‘Um.’

‘Can I type it?’

‘Well—’

Alistair took the phone before Dorian had a chance to protest. ‘Just lemme type something and if you like it, you can send it.’ Alistair’s left index finger and right thumb _flew_ over the screen, tip of his tongue sticking out. After ten seconds, he handed it back, looking pleased with himself and Dorian read it, half dreading what he’d see.

_Got a cuddle waiting with your name on it, sweetheart. Make me proud xxx_

‘Oh,’ Dorian said, surprised. ‘That’s… actually quite nice.’

‘What were you expecting? Lyrical filth?’

 _Maybe_.

‘No, just. That’s nice. He’ll like that.’ Dorian changed _sweetheart_ to _darling_ and then hit send, pocketing the phone. ‘Anyway, I sent you my address so now I can’t rescind my offer. Come around whenever. We can watch crap movies and drink cheap wine.’

‘OK,’ Alistair said, dropping his gaze and smiling almost shyly.

*

Alistair was an enthusiastic shopper and that was a kind way of putting it.

‘Oh my God, that! _That_ will suit you so much! And these!’ he added, grabbing a pair of cheap looking loafers. ‘Get these too!’

They’d had to get another trolley and Dorian was far too charmed to care about being embarrassed when Alistair whipped off his Hawaiian shirt and tried on just about everything in the cheap superstore, chucking most of it into the trolley.

‘This is so fun!’ the red head said, rifling through the racks of discounted clothing, picking out some truly garish pieces and declaring them all vintage, chucking them atop the pile. ‘I _never_ come to cheap places! Love it! It’s like a sweet shop!’

‘Did you grow up with money?’

Alistair shrugged, which Dorian knew meant yes.

‘Parents are politicians.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yeah, they’re over in America right now.’

‘Oh, sorry about that.’

‘It’s OK,’ Alistair said easily, pulling on a pink t-shirt three sizes too big, gathering the material at the front as if preparing to tie it with string or something. ‘They’re on the side of good, barely. Fenris will let me borrow a hair tie, right? This will look so cute cheerleader style. Lee’ll love it.’

It went atop the pile and they moved on. ‘You forgot your shirt,’ Dorian pointed out, indicating to the lonely, vibrant thing Alistair had worn for their journey, now left on a shelf.

‘I like leaving little pieces of myself in happy places,’ Alistair told him, shirtless and giving sub-zero fucks. ‘Like planting seeds somewhere sunny.’

*

By the time they got back to the private land, Dorian was mildly panicking about the code. Fenris had texted it to him and he knew his print was registered, but _still_.

It went off without a hitch though and Alistair drove through the gates, up through the winding trees and back towards the beautiful glass mansion, exuding soft light but not permitting any inward gaze.

‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ Alistair sighed as they heaved the _many_ bags up to the front door, freshly opened by the code and Dorian’s thumb. ‘I’ve only been here twice, but it’s probably one of my favourite places on earth.’

It took five trips to get it all inside and the massive pots came last. Dorian started unpacking the food and Alistair began sorting out the decorations, blankets and the other stuff they’d got for dinner on the beach.

‘So, how long does it all take to cook? Should I go set up now?’

‘It’s about forty five minutes and I was going to ask if you could help me clean the mussels and clams first?’

‘Of course! This is so exciting, I _love_ helping.’

Dorian smiled. The man was a bottomless well of energy and happiness. ‘Thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.’

Alistair preened. ‘You’re welcome. It’s fun to be useful, like _actually_ useful. Usually, Cullen does everything or they go out and eat. I never get to _do_ anything, y’know?’

They cleaned the clams, removing the tiny _beards_ and ensuring the shells were glistening. Then the prep began. Dorian cut up shallots, red potatoes, small tomatoes, chorizo and shucked four fresh corns. Potatoes and shallots were cooked first, then the other ingredients were added, cooked with bay leaves and thyme, white wine and olive oil and other things Dorian had heard of but never used.

It all went into the huge pot and then the same, minus any meat into another one, then the lids went on. Alistair chatted constantly, benign and happy, prattling on about places he’d been, people he’d met, adventures he’d had. Dorian rarely needed to contribute, listened attentively instead.

‘You can go and start setting up now,’ he said when he did a taste check (as per the instructions) halfway through. ‘Blankets and torches are over there.’

Dorian got started on the vegan tacos while the mansion filled with the rich scent of clams and the lovely garlic butter he was making to drizzle over them when cooked.

Alistair trailed inside looking immensely proud. ‘Done!’

‘Yeah, so is this,’ Dorian said, mildly surprised. ‘I thought it would take longer.’

‘Smells amazing. What shall we do now? Ooh, I know! Lemme show you the bubble!’

‘The bubble?’

‘Yeah, come on!’

Dorian followed, wiping his hands on his jeans as Alistair led him up the stairs.

‘Oh, you mean Leliana’s room?’

Alistair hovered at the bottom of an additional set of curving steps that led _up_ from the second floor. ‘Yeah, come on, she won’t mind!’

‘Are you sure?’

Alistair rolled his eyes and pulled Dorian up by the hand. ‘It’s _amazing_ , I’ve never seen a room like it. Look, see?’

The room was a massive, glass dome, three times the size of Cullen’s room. There wasn’t a single wall anywhere, it was all glass and there were _somehow_ tiny, soft spotlights built into the glass above them. In the centre was a huge round bed covered in silky satin covers. Dorian tasted the faintest scent of perfume and fresh pine. Nearby there was a huge bath built into the floor with steps leading down. The floor was polished dark hardwood and aside from the bed and bath, it was empty.

‘TV comes out of the floor,’ Alistair explained. ‘Loads of other stuff too. Bookshelves and a safe, all in the floor. You’re even standing on the toilet. It’s mental, right?’

‘Definitely a bit mental,’ Dorian agreed. ‘But… very Lee.’

Alistair smiled. ‘Yeah, very Lee. All but a wardrobe, the girls keep all their clothes together in the walk-in next to the dressing room below.’

 _Dressing room._ Good luck ever convincing Dorian this was a villa.

‘Look, down there, see? I did good, right?’

Dorian followed his gaze and saw a distant circle of lights in the darkness, blankets weighed down with rocks. ‘Ahh, yeah. You did great, well done.’

‘Oh, wait, best part!’ Alistair said and then he clapped three times. The lights in the glass dimmed slowly, leaving them in near total darkness within the giant bubble. Once Dorian’s eyes adjusted, he realised he could see more of the outside. Could see a _lighthouse_ in the distance, could see waves breaking at the base. He could see dots of light out at sea, ships perhaps. He could see the ocean glittering beneath the moonlight, near full and purest milky white.

‘Wow.’

‘Wow,’ Alistair agreed with a tiny sigh. ‘She likes her space. The top slides open too.’

Dorian shook his head, chuckling. ‘Of course it does.’

‘She owns this land, you know?’ Dorian nodded, riveted by the scene before him. ‘Sometimes I stand here with her and we just look out at the water for ages. Her life is so stressful, it’s like her… hmm, charging dock. Yeah. She brings others sometimes,’ he added and Dorian looked at him then. ‘Other guys. I hear about it occasionally.’ He met Dorian’s gaze neutrally, shrugging. ‘It’s the job. But I do like being here with her. I like making her happy.’

‘You’re a really lovely person, you know that?’

Alistair smiled again and slung an arm around Dorian’s shoulders. ‘You too. I look forward to commandeering you as my new best friend back in London. Imagine how _thrilled_ that’ll make Fenris.’

They left the bubble and headed back down into relative normalcy, a question growing within Dorian.

‘Does she… ask you to tease Fenris like you do?’

Alistair looked back, blinking. ‘Of course.’

Awkwardly, Dorian muttered, ‘Oh, right.’

‘They’re a complicated bunch,’ Alistair explained easily. ‘But then most people are. It’s not the weirdest mandate I’ve ever had, far from it. They have a whole messy history, Lee and Fenris. Not my place to say, but trust me, if it looks complicated to _you_ , that’s only the tip of the tangled iceberg.’

Back downstairs, Dorian checked his phone to find a message from Cullen.

**Do my best, going on now. See you soon xxx**

He didn’t realise that he was smiling until he looked up to find Alistair sipping wine and watching him with a know-it-all kind of grin.

‘Oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?’

Dorian rolled his eyes, smile not fading. ‘Fuck off.’

‘You’re in love with him, I can tell.’

‘You _cannot_ tell that from a smile.’

‘That’s _literally_ how you can tell. Bet he didn’t even say anything that cute.’

‘Shove off, you.’

‘Bet he put three kisses. Ah- _hah!_ _’_ he chanted when Dorian busied himself with cutlery and bowls, the massive stack of _new things_ nearby on the countertop. ‘Three kisses means true love!’

‘My friends put three kisses.’

‘Yeah, because they love you.’

That was hard to argue with.’

‘Come on, level with me! I’m hardly gonna tell anyone, plus I’m NDA’d so even if I wanted to tell anyone, I couldn’t.’

Dorian poured himself a wine and leaned against the countertop.

‘Well, if it’s between us,’ he began, lifting his eyebrows in mild warning which had Alistair nodding excitedly. ‘Then yes, I feel… very strongly for him.’

Alistair _beamed_. ‘You love him!’

‘I really like him.’

‘You’re madly, passionately in love with him!’

‘I… ugh, why is it so hard to say?’

‘Because love is _terrifying!_ Love is like a tattoo; hurts as it’s drawn and it’s _permanent_ , barring painful removal and even then, there’ll always be a scar.’

‘Why are you so wise?’

‘Whores tend to be wise.’

Dorian frowned a little. ‘You’re not a—’

‘A whore? It’s cool, I reclaimed the word and made it my own. Alistair Theirin, whore extraordinaire. And it’s what I am,’ he shrugged, still smiling, playing with the rim of his wineglass. ‘What I’ve always been best at.’

‘Sex?’

‘Knowing what people like and being able to give it to them. Tailor myself to them perfectly. But yes, obviously, sex. I’m something of a grandmaster at it, if I _do_ say so myself.’

‘How did you get into it?’

Alistair chuckled. ‘It’s all terribly predictable, I’m afraid. Started dating older women and men to get back at _Daddy_. Once, one of them paid me at the end of the night. A key moment in my life, when I look back. That money meant control. It meant power, away from my family. It meant my time and energy was _valued_. I’ve been doing it since then, though it’s safer within a company like now. Was on my own for a long time, doing the escort thing but I do prefer it this way.’

‘Do you talk to your parents?’

His grin turned mischievous. ‘Of course. I attend all the family gatherings, dressed to impress but I usually take someone custom designed to piss them off. My friend Morrigan is quite excellent at that. No one rocks a plunge-line dress quite like her. It’s all appearances, all smiles in photos and then not seeing them again until Christmas.’

‘And you don’t date, like, normally?’

‘Sometimes. It’s tricky, as you can imagine.’

‘What if you fell in love, would you give it up?’

Alistair thought long and hard for a moment, frowning. ‘I’d like to think I would _want_ to give it up, yeah.’

Dorian took a deep breath in the silence that followed. ‘I’m in love with Cullen.’

Alistair’s face split into a gorgeous smile. _‘Yeah_ , y’are, babe!’

*

Every other time previous, when Cullen had returned from his work promoting musicians in arenas and whatnot, he was tired and somewhat drained. Those times had been _unplanned_ work, things Cullen had been obligated to do because of that time he’d missed when he stayed with Dorian and let him paint him with body glitter. So, whenever he came back from the nights in Prague, he was always just a bit subdued until he’d shaken it off, cleaned up and started dinner.

This was different.

When they got back, bustling noise filled the mansion as they called out for Dorian and Alistair from the lobby. As Dorian hurried out of the kitchen into the hallway where everyone was milling around, kicking off their shoes and laughing, he caught sight of Cullen. There was an immediately noticeable energy about him and their eyes met with a _snap_.

Cullen was bright and alert, no trace of tiredness like the other times. When he saw Dorian, he broke out into a wide smile that resonated like a physical _push_ in Dorian’s solar plexus. His cheeks were slightly flushed, hair in perfect disarray and he looked so alive, so fucking _radiant_ that Dorian had to half shake himself to remember that this… _this_ … was his boyfriend.

Dorian found himself jogging towards him. They met in a soft, fucking perfect _clash._ Cullen’s arms around Dorian’s were tight and strong as he lifted him up, turning him slowly in a circle, mouths meeting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Dorian’s feet were dangling as they kissed, warm and heavy and so happy it hurt. It was the most Dorian had ever _clung_ to another human being, felt like he needed to fuse them together so Cullen didn’t ever go anywhere without him ever again.

‘Missed you so much,’ he told Cullen as the blond finally set him down, noses rubbing together. Cullen’s left hand trailed down from his face over his chest, resting over his heart where it had earlier and the familiarity of the gesture had Dorian’s breath catching sharply in his throat. Smaller kisses replaced the great big greeting; once, twice, tiny presses that tapered then they moved apart, albeit unwillingly. Hands held and made no move to release and Dorian felt like he might burst, really and truly.

‘How was it?’ he asked, trying to get his voice back to something normal, not this weird high, shaky thing that currently represented him.

‘It was great,’ Cullen said, thumb rubbing over Dorian’s knuckles. ‘Bigger crowd than we expected.’

‘That’s putting it mildly,’ Josie laughed, pulling Dorian into a one armed hug and planting two kisses on his cheeks. ‘How was your night here?’

‘Did Alistair try and braid your hair?’ Fenris asked with a wry grin, hugging Dorian when Josie was done. Alistair, who was busy kissing Lee and making a huge fuss of her, looked over and pretended to be aghast.

‘Insult my manliness, sir? I demand a duel!’

Dorian already knew they were _huggers_ and _kissers_. The kind of tight-knit friends who gave warm greetings, but it was still strange to be a part of it. To have _Leliana_ pull Dorian into a brief hug after having planted an airy set of _almost_ kisses on his cheek, as was the French way.

By the time the hugging procession got around to Rosalie, Dorian realised there was a whole other _person_ with them that he hadn’t even noticed. Some _dude_ with wavy brown hair who was looking around with vivid interest at the place, but kept his attention mostly on the tall blonde.

‘This is Olivier,’ Rosalie introduced him and Dorian was _super_ relieved when Wavy Brown stuck out his hand to be shaken instead of lunging in for kisses.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Olivier said politely, heavily accented.

Dorian shook his hand, somewhat bemused at the _intruder_. ‘You too.’

Rosalie curled her arm about the dude’s waist leading him away subtly. ‘Let me show you around,’ she said and the lowered lilt of her voice reminded Dorian of Cullen which was a whole bucket of weird.

The others were headed for the kitchen while Rosalie showed Olivier the downstairs rooms of the mansion, speaking rapid fire French to him, likely explaining each room.

Which left Cullen and Dorian _alone_ in the lobby.

Rough skin of calloused hands took Dorian’s face and held him as Cullen brought them together once more for the kind of kiss that most _definitely_ wasn’t suitable for observers. A deep, desperate thing that was all tongue, all _need_ and when Dorian wrapped himself around Cullen in return, he felt himself being walked back into a wall, meeting it with a soft bump that drove all the air right out of him.

It was _crazy_ , made Dorian shake all over like they were teenagers and they couldn’t be caught. Never mind that they were adults, that they were _parent-less_ in the extreme and currently making out in the lobby of a three storey _mansion._

Cullen made him want to play, made him want to get fucking creative with every single element of desire he’d ever had to suppress and crush down. Needs that had been subdued and ignored before, crammed into a submissive _box_ just because he bottomed.

Fuck, but Cullen just made him feel _reborn_. Like the world was full of possibilities, like he could do anything. _Be_ anything. It twined with the heat in his blood, tightened around his heart, steadily pounding out the two syllables of a name he adored. It made him feel wild, unrestrained.

Free.

So fucking _free_.

He moaned into Cullen’s mouth and rolled his hips, unable to stop himself, just wanted to _fuse_ them tight together, make them _one,_ always and forever. Made him think dramatic things, made him _want_ too much and Christ, but if this was even a _tenth_ of how Cullen felt for him, no wonder he hadn’t been able to stop himself from telling Dorian he was in love with him. How had he exerted _any_ control when it was all Dorian could do not to palm his cock, duck his head and bite up his neck, leaving a messy trail born of the desire to _mark._

It was fast and it was clumsy, overwrought desire turned head-rush, leaving them desperate in a way that brought about coarseness, but that was _good_. Dorian fucking adored that Cullen wanted him so bad it left him heavy handed and somewhat awkward. There was no art to it, no guile. He wanted Dorian as much as Dorian wanted him and it was all so wonderfully, strangely _even_.

‘Missed you,’ Cullen was muttering, voice low enough that it might break. ‘God, I _missed_ you, made my heart hurt.’

‘Me too,’ Dorian managed, pushing his fingers into Cullen’s hair from the nape of his neck and _revelling_ in the way Cullen’s whole body rippled, made him press closer, not an inch of space between them. ‘But you’re back now.’

‘Mmm, _fuck,_ I wanna take you upstairs.’

Dorian whined, couldn’t prevent it slipping free because he wanted that too and that _want_ twisted like a towel being wrung out inside him. Strong enough to have him briefly considering it, the machinations and the time constraints, but...

‘We should stop,’ he whispered and Cullen… he stopped. Gently eased back, put space between them and sbroke the kiss after pressing a final one there, so sweet it made Dorian’s throat thick. He stroked Dorian’s face with the back of his hand, fingers trembling and he smiled. He _smiled_.

‘Of course,’ he agreed, even though he looked fairly wrecked. Hair a mess, lips a delicious shade of dark, abused pink and those jeans were doing fuck all to hide how _much_ he’d wanted to take Dorian upstairs but he didn’t seem angry, didn’t seem disappointed. His eyes were bright, his smile genuine and the space he’d generated between them was a promise, an agreement being met. He’d stopped, just like Dorian had asked. ‘You’re right.’

A cold rivulet of shame ran down Dorian’s spine when he couldn’t help but feel kind of astonished. The inevitable comparison was right there, helpfully reminding him that had his ex been in such a state, there would have been no stopping. No space between them until it was done. Coaxing and cajoling and the classic guilt trip aboard the, ‘ _you really gonna leave me like this?_ _’_ train until Dorian would have cracked, would have let it happen and just hoped no one saw, hoped it was _quick_ , more than anything else.

Cullen was really, genuinely astonishing to Dorian. He wished it wasn’t shocking to have someone do as he’d asked, to care what mattered to him. Wished it was commonplace and dull, maybe even a little bit boring.

But it wasn’t. It shook him to his core and it cemented the feeling all the more.

That _feeling_ he wanted to express there and then in the well cared for middle space of a mansion, right there in the open where anyone could wander by.

Dorian arranged his features into a shaky smile, the kind that wobbled but he nodded briskly to hide it.

He didn’t have any words to trot out and even if he did, they would have given him away completely, so instead he took Cullen by the hand and led them into the glow of the kitchen where the others were gathered, talking loudly.

*

‘Oh, this is so lovely!’ Rosalie exclaimed excitedly, dropping gracefully into a cross legged pose upon the blankets, her smile illuminated by the tiny fires all around. The night was balmy, salty sweet air tossed lightly around on a delicate breeze and a mere twenty feet away, the ocean rolled in and out. ‘You made a clam bake!’

Alistair, who was already lounging like a spoilt cat atop a blanket he’d claimed for himself and Leliana, said, ‘I did, I’m very proud. Dorian helped.’

Dorian snorted. ‘ _Helped_.’

‘You did,’ Alistair insisted, teasing grin. ‘Don’t be humble now.’

On four small kettle barbecues sat four sheet trays, kept hot by the coals beneath. ‘Which is which?’ Lee asked interestedly peering into the trays.

‘So, this one,’ Dorian said, before Alistair could _claim_ to know, cheeky fucker. ‘Is loaded vegetarian tacos and next to it, I made a batch of the vegetables, no clams and no meat products at all. This is the Josie side. This tray here is the traditional clam bake and this one,’ he added. ‘Is the _spicy_ clam bake.’

A chorus of, _‘oooh_!’s filled the air as if a pretty firework had exploded in the sky for their entertainment.

‘Drinks are there in the ice buckets, plates and cutlery in the picnic basket, that bag is for trash.’

‘Dorian, this is amazing,’ Leliana said seriously. ‘Thank you.’

Oh, it was a tingly thing, the pride he felt. Had him coming over weirdly bashful, cheeks turning pink. ‘Team effort,’ he dismissed and Alistair nodded in wholehearted agreement, dropping Dorian a wink.

Strong arms encircled him from behind, familiar lips settling against the shell of his ear and Cullen pressed a small kiss there before he murmured, ‘You cooked for us.’

‘God, we’re never getting rid of him now,’ Leliana sighed but she was teasing and Dorian liked that he could tell.

‘As if we were getting rid of him _before_ ,’ Fenris chuckled, settling into his blanket, taking a bottle of beer for himself and cracking the top off easily. ‘Cullen, let him sit so we can eat.’

Cullen relented but only after squeezing Dorian tighter for a long moment and pressing a firm, closed mouth kiss to the side of his neck. ‘Ahh, it smells so _good_!’

Once everyone had food on their plates and bottles half wedged into the sand to prevent tipping over, they sat in a semi-circle atop blankets and began to eat, chatting the whole time. It might have been just about the loveliest meal of Dorian’s entire life, not least because he’d gone to the trouble of working to make something delicious for people he cared about, for the man he _loved_.

For his boyfriend.

The setting was gorgeous, the ocean to their right was like an additional guest, like a benign physical presence and the near full moon above made the moving water glitter and gleam.

‘This is really good,’ Dorian said, oddly surprised. ‘Wow.’

Everyone agreed.

They spoke only a bit about what Dorian knew from Cullen’s mood had been a very successful night, mentioning highlights and little else. The conversation flowed, there was never an awkward silence. Where Fenris trailed off, Lee took over and when she paused to take a bite, Josie would sweep in. It was all effortless, they were like pillars of absolute strength.

Olivier was polite enough to join in with the conversation where possible, his interest in Rosalie quite palpable. Dorian caught their interactions out the corner of his eye a few times, small touches here and there. Whispered giggles. Fresh flirting and the bubble of excitement.

Literally what he felt for Cullen, only magnified by a million.

Dorian was curious to observe that Cullen, who sat beside him, occasionally nicking things from Dorian’s plate, did not seem overly wary or suspicious of Olivier, even as he sat there touching his little sister in a way that was politely subtle but certainly didn’t imply they were headed for an outing to the _library_ anytime soon.

Or it _might_ have been curious, had Dorian not caught the way Fenris was watching the French man without actually ever watching him. It was clever, not obvious to someone who maybe didn’t know Fenris. He had Olivier well and truly _clocked_ and Dorian could tell. Fenris wasn’t relaxed, not like he had been earlier. He exuded easiness but he was quietly ready, his attention on the others was shallow.

Dorian cracked a clam wide open, stabbing the scrumptious morsel of meat within and thought about what Fenris _did_. What his job was. Leliana organised everything; bookings, meetings, she did it all. Josie worked her magic with PR, she worked with _optics._ That made sense, appearance was everything these days and Cullen being a promoter, well he _needed_ those things. Could have done it himself at a push, but they seemed to operate on a level of co-operation that worked best for each of them.

And then there was Fenris sat with a beer he hadn’t drunk yet, chatting pleasantly with Josie and Cullen, all the while watching Olivier, _measuring_ him much the way he’d done with Dorian at first.

Fenris was Cullen’s bodyguard, but that was really a misnomer, at least to Dorian’s understanding. Fenris was their _protector_. Everywhere they went, he was watching exits, he made sure it was safe. He monitored everyone, he guarded them. Not only Cullen.

Dorian knew they’d grown up together, that they were all close, closer than polite society tended to permit, in truth. It made him want to know _more_. To ask what Leliana had meant when she’d said Fenris was a trained killer. Was that _true?_ Dorian didn’t doubt it, but he wanted to know the history behind it. He wanted to know what had happened between Lee and Fenris. He wanted to know how Josie grew up. He wanted to know about Rosalie and her travels. About the brother Cullen so rarely mentioned whose absence seemed strange to Dorian then.

He leaned his head against Cullen’s shoulder, felt the blond drop a kiss to his hair and sighed; a thing of peace and pleasant curiosity.

‘Thank you for dinner,’ Cullen whispered.

Dorian smiled. ‘About time I repaid you, no?’

Cullen nudged him playfully. ‘You owe me nothing.’

*

When the meal was finished and everything was cleared away, all but blankets and drinks, Olivier was playing with the long curls at the small of Rosalie’s back with one hand, pulling out his phone with the other.

Dorian, who’d been watching the ocean roll in and out with adoring fascination, caught Fenris looking over at Olivier, peripheral vision alerting him to the movement.

Rosalie noticed it too, held Fenris’s gaze for a moment during which he simply slanted an eyebrow at her. The interaction had a slow, subtle chain reaction.

Cullen noticed it next, watching Olivier on his phone, followed by Lee and finally, by Josie who was, herself, on her phone.

Olivier didn’t seem to notice that everyone was staring at him now, looking down into the bright screen with a frown.

‘Can’t get a signal?’ Fenris asked calmly, but his focus on the younger man was like a fucking _laser._

When at last Olivier looked up from his phone, his eyes widened and he blanched slightly to see them all staring, to find himself the centre of attention.

‘Oh, uh.’ Olivier stalled, suddenly unsure of himself. Rosalie seemed to be having a silent conversation with Fenris; a strange back and forth communicated in eyes, in the creasing of brows and pursing of lips.

‘Yeah, I couldn’t get any signal out here earlier.’ Dorian said, wading in. If there was to be awkwardness, better he be the centre of it, used to such a life as he was. ‘Maybe we should head inside. It’s getting late after all and there’s more… signal, inside.’

‘Mmm, yes,’ Leliana agreed swiftly, pushing up to kneel. ‘Olivier, can we drop you back, or…?’

Rosalie sighed and rolled her eyes, looking back at her date _._ _‘_ I told you to leave your phone in your jacket,’ she said under her breath.

‘Oh, oh, I’m sorry!’ he said, laughing but it was just a _tiny_ bit nervous. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. ‘Ere, you can take it, if you want.’ He offered the phone to Cullen, which was weird. Dorian frowned, sharing Fenris’s sentiment of vaguely _disliking_ this dude, of wanting him to _shoo_ from the inner circle of which Dorian was firmly a part of, thanks ever so much.

‘No, it’s fine,’ Cullen said kindly, the way he’d spoken to Sera and Lana, but beside Dorian, he was rigid.

‘I wasn’t…’ the man said, looking around, finally seeming to understand that the phone was a _bad_ thing. He stowed it and attempted a smile. ‘Just checking messages.’

It was Alistair, bless him, who came to the rescue. He’d been inside clearing up, had insisted upon it, but when he came out, he was wearing a coat.

‘Olivier,’ he said, pleasant and cheery. ‘I’m headed back into the town, you want a lift with me?’

Oh, but something was _happening_ and Dorian didn’t really understand it.

Rosalie glanced at Alistair, at Fenris and then at Cullen. The siblings held a single moment of eye contact and then she looked back at Olivier, who seemed to know what was happening about as much as _Dorian,_ beyond that the atmosphere had turned a bit frosty.

‘Yeah,’ she said, nodding and giving Olivier the kind of smile that wavered slightly. ‘I’m a bit tired, actually.’

Cullen looked down, jaw working and when Dorian slid his hand into his, the grip he was met with confirmed that whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

Olivier got to his feet and the others followed, a procession of awkwardness and everyone walked inside, varying degrees of speed.

Cullen walked ahead with Rosalie, the pair speaking quietly and Olivier walked with Josie, her bright chatter almost enough to remove the sheen of awkwardness that had descended.

Dorian slowed to match Fenris’s pace, the tattooed man bringing up the rear.

‘The fuck?’ he muttered subtly.

‘His phone,’ Fenris said. ‘He took a picture, tried to send it.’

‘He—how? _When_?’

‘I saw him,’ Fenris explained. ‘Saw it reflected in his eyes.’

‘Of Cullen?’

‘Of you, as well.’

Dorian winced. Fucking _Christ_ , couldn’t he go to _any_ foreign country without some fucker recognising him?

‘Can we talk him out of posting it?’

Fenris looked at Dorian and smirked. ‘No need.’

Once they were inside, milling around in the lobby with overly animated chatter, bright and bubbly and so fake, Olivier pulled on his jacket slowly, looking between Rosalie and Cullen.

‘I uh, could come back tomorrow?’ he ventured hopefully.

Rosalie smiled sympathetically. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow, sorry.’

Dorian knew they weren’t leaving tomorrow.

Olivier bore it as well as he could, nodding glumly.

‘I’ll drive,’ Fenris offered, reaching for his jacket off the rack and when he pulled it, he _accidentally_ knocked into Olivier, sending his phone clattering to the floor. ‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, reaching down and grabbing it before Olivier had any chance.

And it was only because Dorian had been watching, had been _waiting_ for some clever trick, that he saw it.

Fenris had something else in his hand. Something flat, like a battery pack. He pressed the phone against it and then quickly handed it over to Olivier like it hadn’t happened.

‘Not damaged, is it?’ Fenris asked, as if he was concerned.

Olivier turned on the screen and sighed, relieved. ‘No, it’s OK.’

‘Great,’ Fenris said firmly. ‘Right, shall we?’

‘Lovely to meet you, Olivier,’ Josie said, wide, lovely smile in place as she began the first of many _farewells_ for the man who’d dared to enter their inner sanctum and take a picture with intent to share.

At the door, Olivier and Rosalie had a brief conversation and Dorian watched closely. Read her body language; arms coming up to cross defensively, hips cocking, expression aloof. Olivier seemed to verge upon _anger_ at one point which was when Cullen intervened

‘ _So_ great to meet you,’ he said, clapping the man on the back. ‘Really, lovely.’

Olivier looked up at Cullen and seemed resigned. ‘You also,’ he said and when Fenris opened the door, Josie pulled her denim jacket on.

‘I’ll go too, for the ride,’ she said, wrapping one arm around Olivier’s shoulders. ‘Now, tell me, would you and three friends be interested in tickets for Coachella in July?’ was the last thing Dorian heard as Alistair, Fenris and Josie left, taking the interloper with them.

As soon as the door shut, Rosalie let out a long, shaky breath and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly and Cullen was right there, arms around her.

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, hugging her. ‘You didn’t know. It’s my fault.’

Muffled and sad, she asked, ‘How the fuck is _that_ your fault?’

‘If I wasn’t here, you’d be having a great time with him,’ Cullen said plainly. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘He seemed really nice, like he wasn’t interested in you, maybe didn’t even know who you were,’ she said and Cullen kissed the top of her head.

‘Sweetie, it’s _fine_.’

‘’M sorry,’ she croaked and Dorian wondered if the abundance of _sorry_ was a Rutherford thing. ‘If Fenris hadn’t seen him—’

‘But he did, and Josie will make sure nothing comes of it,’ he said, shifting the hug so they could walk slowly, side by side. ‘It’s all good, I promise.’

She laughed weakly and wiped her eyes, tiny smudges of mascara, her gaze lifting to Dorian. ‘Sorry,’ she told him, as if she’d done anything to warrant the apology. ‘I thought he was cool, I didn’t know. Should have been more careful.’

‘Your brother’s right,’ Dorian sighed, falling into step with them while Leliana trailed behind. ‘You’re a bit silly, you.’

In the kitchen, Rosalie laughed again and seemed to recover somewhat. Leliana poured drinks for everyone; favouring vodka that time, poured over jagged, fresh ice with a dash of fruit.

‘It happens,’ she told Rosalie simply, passing her the drink. ‘Don’t fret, darling.’

Rosalie took it and nodded, steeling herself. ‘OK, I’ll try. Just feel like I ruined the whole night.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Cullen said, no hint of brooking any argument. ‘Fenris got to use his _mirror_ , so he’ll be thrilled.’

Dorian had questions.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a device that once touched to a phone, unless extremely secure, will then give Fenris access to the phone so he can go through, delete any pictures he took, see what if any messages were sent.’

‘Right, because he took pictures.’

‘He did,’ Leliana said, sipping her vodka. ‘I saw him tilt the phone back, aimed at you two.’

Dorian looked down at his drink between his hands. ‘It’s… because of me, right?’

Everyone went very quiet. ‘I didn’t think of that,’ Lee said.

‘I mean, it probably is,’ Dorian said with a small shrug, wishing pestilence upon that _fucker_ who had been lurking in the backstage halls, recording the worst moments of his life with intent to cut, edit and brighten the whole thing in preparation for uploading all across the world.

He could feel Cullen watching him. ‘I don’t think so.’

Dorian didn’t want to argue the point, but he knew deep down he was right. Cullen was a promoter, he worked with famous people and even though he was talented as all out fuck, there was little to be gained from taking his picture. Dorian, on the other hand, laughingstock of the music world, who’d probably been made into motherfucking _memes_ , he would have been worth grabbing a picture.

‘I’m really sorry,’ Rosalie said again and she sounded so wretched, bless her, that Dorian set aside his internal agony, just swept it away for the time being and looked up at her, lovely thing that she was, and gave her his best _It_ _’s All Going To Be Fine_ smile.

‘So, come on,’ he said briskly. ‘Let’s all admit I’m a better cook than Cullen.’

Leliana smiled and the other two laughed softly. It was weirdly quiet without Alistair and Josie, subdued almost but not in a bad way. Dorian took a small sip of the strong vodka concoction, finding it not so repellent as he’d expected.

‘I’ve never had a clam bake,’ Leliana admitted. ‘It was pretty great. Thanks again, Dorian.’

‘Better cook than me,’ Cullen muttered, shaking his head. ‘Bloody as _if_! Wait till tomorrow, I’m bringing out the big guns, you’ll see.’

Dorian ignored the innuendo, let it slip by with nothing but a warm, meaningful look towards Cullen who replied in kind and because that was a good way to get worked up, just _looking at him_ , Dorian broke the gaze after a beat.

‘Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Lee,’ he said, trying out the name. ‘About you owning the land.’

Leliana didn’t quite smile, but when she rolled her eyes, there was a touch of lightweight amusement about her.

‘Alistair showed you the room?’

‘Well.’

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ Rosalie chimed in.

‘It is,’ Dorian agreed.

‘Oh come on,’ Cullen said, opening a can of coke. ‘Tell him the story.’

‘There’s no _story._ _’_

‘So, tell him then.’

Leliana huffed a sigh, focusing on Dorian as she began to speak.

‘Around five years ago, I was approached by a board member for a set of trustees. The _short_ version,’ she said, shooting Cullen an affectionately pissed off glare. ‘Is that he represented the estate of a man who is very _loosely_ considered French royalty, but they have such problems, the French. So many bastards. He was of royal blood, but did not hold official title. Anyway, that man was my Father.’ Leliana downed the drink, ice tinkling gently. ‘Apparently, he’d been searching for me ever since my bitch of a Mother took me and fled the country. He’d died years before, you understand, but it was in his will that those who controlled his estate continue to search for me. When I graduated from University, they found me and the trustee approached me.’

She gestured around the kitchen of the mansion, to the plain glass walls that revealed the moon and the ocean.

‘He left me this land along with a reasonable sum of money.’

Dorian wondered what a _reasonable_ sum of money was to the kind of people who tipped ten grand for a meal.

Leliana and Cullen shared a small smile, something almost sad. ‘We were so broke at the time,’ she said quietly, leaning her elbows on the countertop. ‘Everything was… God, when I look back, things were pretty much the worst they’d ever been actually. I barely graduated at all and then out of the blue, there came a man with a suitcase who changed everything.’

‘Lee is so clever with money,’ Cullen said. ‘Investments and bonds, all that.’

‘All that, indeed,’ the red head echoed. ‘Anyway, after I signed a few things to say I would never come forward to make a claim to a title, never cause a big _fuss_ about my heritage and so forth, they handed over the land and the money.’

Dorian thought of those fucking Trevelyan twins then, of how they’d come to take everything from him and had only allowed him to retain his loft by the barest of margins. He thought of how Fenris had once told him that Leliana knew them and filed it away to ask more at a later date.

‘And you built this place?’

‘We started, yes. It wasn’t like this at first,’ she said, running her fingers over the smooth, glittering marble of the countertop. ‘It was just a house, at first. A little house by the sea.’

‘All three of you lived here?’

‘Hmm,’ she said, expression tightening somewhat. ‘More or less.’

The picture Dorian was slowly putting together took form, blurred around the edges still from lack of details, areas that were obviously personal and not to be infringed upon, but he was starting to understand. Leliana’s money had changed things, Cullen’s talent had changed things too.

And yet Fenris had told Dorian he lived in a one bedroom flat with a box of food stashed under his bed.

The picture was vague and blurred, but it was better than nothing.

‘That’s definitely a story,’ he said. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

‘You’re welcome,’ she said, pouring another drink.

‘I pick losers,’ Rosalie bemoaned out of nowhere.

Cullen sighed and pulled her into a one armed hug. ‘We’ve all picked losers in the past.’

‘Yeah, well not _recently_ ,’ she added, brightening and winking at Dorian.

*

By the time the others returned, things had cheered up considerably. Rosalie was telling stories of the worst disasters she’d had while travelling, hilarious escapades that reminded Dorian vaguely of that time in Spain with Sera and Lana when they’d lost their money, made so much noise in the hotel that they were moved twice and one time got locked out on the balcony and had to climb down to the level beneath.

When Fenris walked inside, Alistair and Josie behind him, Leliana turned and asked, ‘All good?’

Fenris nodded and gave her a small smile. ‘Of course.’

‘He took the tickets,’ Josie said. ‘Signed for them.’

Rosalie nodded, seeming relieved. ‘Sorry guys.’

Fenris tutted at her and stole her drink, downing it in one. ‘You did nothing wrong, Rosie Rey.’

She still seemed uncomfortable. ‘I forget how it is, y’know?’

‘Of course,’ Cullen said easily, but there was an undertow of guilt there, or so Dorian thought. They were quiet for a moment after that, no one knowing what to say.

‘Hey, guys,’ Alistair said heavily. ‘I’m afraid I have bad news.’

Everyone turned. ‘What?’ Cullen asked warily.

‘Well, look, I didn’t want to say anything, _but_. I demand a dance off.’

Leliana split into a wide, yet somewhat unreachable smile as if any happiness gained from Alistair was… somehow _shallow_.

‘Oh my God, you’re so right,’ Rosalie said, biting her bottom lip. ‘To think, I was about to let you get away with it, as well.’

‘A dance off, yes!’ Josie agreed fervently. ‘Oh, how wonderful. I’ve had nothing new for TikTok in days!’

‘No fucking _TikToks_ , Josie,’ Fenris grumbled but it was a losing game.

‘And that’s perfect because we can add the music in afterwards,’ she went on, warming to her theme. _For Dorian_ went unsaid.

‘C’mon, Missy,’ Alistair said, shooing Rosalie out onto the patio, glittering with fairy lights. ‘Time to show you how a professional does things.’

As they headed outside, Dorian took Josie aside.

‘Use real music,’ he told her quietly. ‘I promise, it’s fine. Just not… y’know. Any songs I might um, know the words to.’

Her brow creased, warm eyes searching. ‘You’re certain?’

‘Absolutely. Use real music. The trashier and louder, the better.’

Josie gave his forearm a gentle squeeze. ‘OK, darling.’

*

Dorian sat on Cullen’s lap for the duration of the _dance off._ It just kind of happened. Dorian got a drink, one of those _immensely_ refreshing cans of lemonade that bordered on the right side of sour, so fizzy it made his tongue sting, and Cullen had already been sitting down, no chairs free on either side. He’d opened his arm in invitation and yeah, that’s how it happened.

Dorian had the kind of boyfriend who liked him sitting on his lap. The kind that found little excuses to press a kiss here and there. The kind who played with his hair absently, whose proximity made Dorian hyper aware of how much he wanted it doubled, wanted _more_.

With real music coming through the speakers built into the veranda (because of course) the _Dance Off_ was a true spectacle. Whereas Dorian conceded that Rosalie was, in fact, an exceptionally skilled dancer, imbued with natural rhythm and actual _moves_ , Alistair was just plain enthusiastic. He threw himself around like a dog trying to catch a fly, though it was no less entertaining. The whole thing was hilarious and Dorian found himself clapping and laughing, eyes watering from the sheer force of it. Even Fenris was laughing towards the end, genuinely _laughing_. Josie filmed much of it, excitement gleaming in her eyes and judging by the way she had them dance to the same song one after the other, he suspected she was doing some kind of _Got It_ vs _Not Got It_ video.

Alistair bore it all wonderfully, made himself the centre of attention, ridiculed himself completely and loved every moment. Any remaining atmosphere from before was disintegrated and by the time Alistair himself grudgingly accepted that Rosalie was the better dancer, Josie left the music playing. Leliana danced with Alistair and Cullen went into the pool with Josie and his sister, stripping off and jumping in somewhere around 1am.

Fenris sat at the table beneath the fairy lights and ceiling of creeping honey suckle and jasmine. He seemed at peace, looking out at the ocean, but Dorian didn’t feel right leaving him there.

‘You OK?’ he asked over the thrumming 80’s synth wave of a song Dorian didn’t know.

Fenris looked at him and managed a smile, nodding. ‘Fine. You should go swim with the others.’

Dorian wanted to, he did. Especially when Alistair jumped in, fully clothed, trying to playfully drown Cullen. There was energy in the air; a strange mixture of excitement and hilarity, underlined with love.

But Fenris sat on the outskirts, watching the horizon, streaked with silver from an _almost_ full moon. He seemed content, but Dorian was starting to know better.

‘I’m sorry it’s hard for you,’ he said after he pulled his chair closer, so they could speak under cover of music that was oddly easy to ignore just then.

Fenris looked at him, blinking. ‘What is?’

Dorian faltered, not wanting to blunder into private things. ‘Um, y’know. Lee and Alistair.’

His expression softened with realisation. ‘Oh, it’s not hard for me. Don’t worry about it.’

It rang hollow, sadly empty.

‘Right.’

Fenris’s dark eyebrow inclined, shoulders squaring slightly. ‘It’s how it has to be,’ he said quietly, barely audible over the heavy synth and deep rhythm. ‘It’s not ideal, not by any means, but it’s better than the alternative.’

Dorian stared intently. ‘Which is?’

It was only a second, a single moment during which some of Fenris’s flawless exterior actually _cracked_ and he took a short, cut off little breath as if about to say something very quickly. But he caught himself just before it could happen. Smiled to hide it and said, ‘Come on, let’s get in the pool. I’m boiling.’

*

Dorian had forgotten what it was like to have _complicated_ friends. Not just messy ones. Not just the kind who caused chaos and required guidance or sometimes bail money. Friends who’d made other kinds of mess, friends whose tangled lives could not be untangled by Dorian lending twenty quid or calming down an indignant bouncer. Providing an alibi or explaining why it was _bad_ to use teeth during a blowjob _(Lana, God give him strength)._

It was the kind of mess made in youth and carried through to adulthood, crystallised with time. He could tell that much.

‘Good night,’ they bade one by one, going their separate ways to their rooms, Leliana leading Alistair up to the weird, beautiful _bubble_ in the sky, Rosalie insisting she was staying up despite her frequent yawns. Josie had fallen asleep on a chair outside and Fenris had deposited her safely in her room before calling up a goodnight of his own. He slept on the ground floor, Dorian knew. A small room behind the staircase, just beyond the kitchen.

‘Not joining us?’ Alistair called down, grinning.

‘Go fuck yourself, Alistair,’ Fenris replied coolly, not remotely ruffled.

They were _complicated_.

Dorian might have asked questions, might have pushed Cullen to know just a bit more about them had he not been met with the sight of a small, instantly familiar pot of glittering purple goo, sat on the bed like a little _gift_.

He closed the door behind him, Cullen dragging off his t-shirt by the balcony doors, open wide to let in the cool night breeze, ocean sounds washing inside and Dorian smiled, questions drifting away with the wind.

*

They made a mirror of their hands, fingers pressed lightly together, arching and extended, facing one another as they lay in bed, each propped up on an elbow, talking.

There was glitter everywhere. Hands, arms, chest, cheeks, neck, hair. It was all over them both; shiny, scattered map of intimacy that spanned far and wide.

The touched their hands together, making an almost childlike point of contact while they talked and if one lifted a finger, the other would copy, maintaining the reflective illusion.

‘Best sex, aside from me?’ Dorian asked watching the way Cullen’s fingers, strong with rough pads, lifted and curled, mimicking Dorian’s slender ones, their skin contrasted in shade, but no less glittery than the counterparts.

Cullen hummed, considering. ‘Probably a guy I was with for a few months, Matt. He was pretty great. It was nothing to this, though.’

Dorian nodded, didn’t comment that the _best_ up until this had apparently only crescendoed at “pretty great”. Dorian understood to an extent.

‘You?’

He answered honestly. ‘My ex and I had great sex at first. Best until you, I think.’

Light brown eyes were steady, did not darken with second-hand anger or pity, they were ports in a storm, a place for Dorian to find security and safety.

‘Worst sex?’ he asked, emboldened by what he saw in Cullen, the desire to _know_ more overcoming the desire to keep the mood light, if indeed it was any such thing.

‘Ooh,’ Cullen winced with a chuckle, extending his index finger to trace it down the underside of Dorian’s own, brushing over the skin of his palm and Dorian copied the movement a second later. ‘So many to choose from. My first time with a guy was both awe inspiring and so bad that I passed out.’

Dorian waited, their index fingers doing the dance of flirting swans.

‘It was with a cop,’ Cullen explained in a way that sounded like reeling off bullet points. ‘In his car while parked by the riverside and I was in so much pain I passed out. So yeah, that might be the worst.’

‘In pain?’

‘My lip,’ he clarified quickly. ‘But he was a good guy. Took me home. Nothing came of it, I mean, _obviously._ I passed out, can’t get much worse than that.’

There was more to it, Dorian could tell.

‘How old were you?’

‘I think… maybe, nineteen?’

Dorian inclined his head slightly. ‘Fenris was missing?’

Cullen blinked. ‘Yeah, he was.’

‘Sorry, I don’t mean to—’

‘No, it’s fine. I know he told you a bit about it.’ Index and middle fingers stroked down, bold and reassuring and Dorian did the same. ‘He was gone for years. Raleigh was the PC I used to go to and ask for updates.’

‘But they found him soon after that?’

Cullen’s gaze dropped, line between his brows. ‘He doesn’t remember it. He knows it was bad, but he doesn’t _know_.’

‘You do?’

‘Lee and I read the reports compiled by witnesses and plea testimonies. It was a fucking horror show. Part of me is glad he doesn’t remember, but it—well, it’s caused him other issues.’

Dorian flattened his palm to Cullen’s, the way their bodies had been earlier. 

‘I’ve never known people so close as you three.’

That earned a smile. ‘I love them. They’re a part of me, always have been.’

‘Like a triad,’ Dorian grinned lazily.

‘Mm, yeah. That’s pretty accurate. What about your worst sex, if you want to tell me?’

Dorian didn’t comment on the small, but important reminder that he didn’t _have to_ share, simply addressed the question, mentally casting about for the worst sex he’d ever had.

‘Same _dick_ as before,’ he replied after a beat. ‘Just not sure which time. Towards the end, when I look back, it was getting worse and worse. If we argued, it would always be bad sex. Not bad for him, obviously.’

Saying it aloud made Dorian uncomfortably aware that he was purposefully skirting around a word he didn’t like, a word he never let apply to him in any way because he’d always liked sex, from the first time when he was fifteen onward. That _word,_ it had all kinds of connotations that he just didn’t like. Bad sex was a generous way of putting it, especially when Dorian thought of the last three months, of that hellish, relentless fucking _tour_ that had ended at the Download festival.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen said, soft and simple.

Dorian pushed his fingers in the gaps of Cullen’s, closing gently and holding. Cullen matched it, held back and sighed with something like contentment. Dorian wanted to bury his face in his chest, feel the gritty rub of glitter and seek that scent of his skin at the source, tell him things, tell him everything, tell him all the little nothings that contributed to who he was. Tiny moments, bad things, funny things, sad things.

He wanted to spill himself and show Cullen, show him everything. Have him _know_ him, inside and out, and still say he was loved. 

‘Thank you,’ he said instead, not knowing how to even quantify the feelings inside him then, let alone act upon them. ‘Do you think this is… like, a holiday romance?’

Oh, perfect. He’d said _that_ instead.

‘What do you mean?’

_No, don_ _’t explain what you mean._

_‘_ What I mean is, well, do you think you’ll still feel the same when we’re back in rainy London? In a loft without air-con and a swimming pool, where my friends tend to visit and we can’t do whatever we like?’

Cullen’s expression was steady. ‘I know I will.’

‘How can you know that?’

The rough pad of his thumb swept over the base of Dorian’s index finger. ‘Because I loved you before all this and I’ll love you after.’

Dorian’s breath caught sharply in his chest, something bittersweet bleeding into him. ‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

It was easier if he closed his eyes. ‘Why do you love me?’

In the empty beat that followed, Dorian realised he _had_ actually been expecting an answer, as the silence rang dully in his ears, a single word pulsing in the base of his throat, _downsides._ His ex had written a song with that name about him, the same word. A pretty, lyrical list set to a catchy fucking rhythm, all Dorian’s worst habits, his flaws. There were downsides to loving him, he knew this concretely and Cullen had said as much.

The silence burned inside him and he regretted asking, regretted so much about himself then. Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had? Christ, it was _more_ than he deserved, more than he’d ever expected or could have imagined and yet again, he had to go _pushing_ —

‘It’s everything about you,’ Cullen said, cutting off his downward spiral of bad feelings so abruptly that Dorian’s eyes flew open. ‘It’s every single element of who you are. All the things you do, all the pieces of your loves, your likes, dislikes. I love you because every moment of your existence shines, it’s like…’ his gaze moved behind Dorian, thoughtful frown denting his pretty features. ‘It’s like you’re the sun. When I’m near you, I feel _warm_ and safe and happy. I love everything you say, I get excited just to be around you. Just to listen to you. Talk with you.’ He smiled. _‘God_ , I love talking to you. I love making you happy. I love _you_. I love you so much and the more I get to know you, the more there is to love. Yeah,’ he finished, sighing and shrugging slightly. ‘I love literally every single thing about you. Sorry, I know that’s pretty uncool.’

Dorian’s throat was well and truly stuck. His ribs ached with the pressure behind them and he felt stunned, disoriented almost. There was a _depth_ to what Cullen had said and it had the effect of pulling Dorian down too hard, too fast.

Cullen didn’t seem to be aware of how much that affected Dorian, just lay there watching him, content and calm, holding his hand. Or at least he didn’t seem aware until a good twenty seconds passed in silence.

‘You OK?’

Dorian shook his head, lips parting. ‘I—yeah,’ he managed hoarsely.

Concern blossomed gently. ‘I said something wrong?’

‘No, not at all.’

Cullen moved closer, using his newly freed hand to touch Dorian’s face, eyes moving between Dorian’s own, seeking, searching. ‘You look sad. I made you sad?’

‘No.’

Cullen half rested his chest atop Dorian’s and Dorian rolled onto his back, looking up at Cullen, hands still clasped together.

‘Tell me?’

Dorian swallowed, blinking back tears. ‘What are the… downsides?’

‘To what?’

It came out small, much quieter than he intended. ‘To loving me?’

Cullen blinked and shook his head minutely. ‘Sorry?’

 _This would be an excellent place to fake a smile and shake it off,_ his subconscious informed him, glaring internally at him for doing this.

But Dorian did no such thing, let himself feel tentatively secure beneath the gentle weight of Cullen’s presence, beneath those _words_ from moments ago and he pushed, asking what he knew he shouldn’t because he had to know.

‘What are the downsides to loving me?’

The frown went deeper that time, genuine confusion blending with concern. ‘There are none.’

‘Cullen, you can tell me. I won’t be upset.’

Rough fingertips like the tongue of a cat stroked his hair back. ‘You’re asking me what are the downsides to being in love with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I’m telling you, that from my perspective, there are none. I suppose,’ he said, looking down, swallowing. ‘There’s a fair few from yours. My job high among them.’

‘No, that’s, _no_ ,’ Dorian said, unsure of how it had turned around so fast. ‘You said… look, I’m a big boy and I really do believe that you, y’know.’

Cullen looked up. ‘Love you?’

‘Yeah. So, you can tell me. Maybe it’s…’ _oh, you fucking moron._ ‘things I can work on.’

In the quiet that followed, Dorian tried to pretend he wasn’t fucking _dying_ from waiting to hear what these downsides were. Cullen did that _thing_ where he considered, where he looked to the side and thought. His pensive expression, his _I_ _’m Thinking_ pose and Dorian tried his best to steel himself against whatever was coming next.

And realistically, he _knew_ what they were. He knew he was poor as fuck. He knew he was a bit of a wreck. High maintenance for low gain. When his former friends had cut ties, many of them had told him straight, said he was _a lot_. Drama, trouble-maker, attention seeker. His life was a mess. _He_ was a mess. He couldn’t go to that thing earlier, couldn’t see Cullen perform, couldn’t support him starting out in something that had the potential to be big.

Fuck, imagine if he went big. What would Dorian do then? How could he cope with that?

Downsides all over the fucking place.

But Cullen, all smeared with glitter, looked back at Dorian and the frown smoothed out, expression turning placid and caring once more.

‘Nope, there aren’t any,’ he said. ‘Not for me.’

Dorian sighed, barely keeping his irritation in check. ‘Cullen, come _on_.’

‘I can’t think of any.’

‘OK, how about the fact I have no money?’

‘So?’

‘ _So,_ you can’t just pay for everything all the time.’

Dorian could see how close Cullen came to saying that he didn’t care about money, but he caught himself and nodded instead. ‘You’re smart and creative. I know you’ll be successful wherever you want to apply yourself and until then, we can live however you want so things are more even.’

‘Bring yourself down to my level?’

‘I love living with you in London. I love watching TV with you and staying in. I just want to be with you.’

God damn it.

‘All right,’ Dorian said, moving swiftly on. ‘I’m a wreck.’

Cullen smiled like it was funny. ‘No, you’re really not.’

It was quite something to feel _indignant_ towards such a statement, bringing about a desire to insist that _yes, he was a wreck,_ thank you very fucking much.

‘I passed out when you first told me about your music.’

Cullen thumbed back a stray lock of his hair. ‘You’ve been through a lot.’

A tiny fissure of anger split Dorian’s chest and he sat up, nudging Cullen off as carefully as his irritation would permit. Irritated because it _sucked_ having to work to make someone realise what was already true and known.

‘I can’t even come to your music stuff, let alone work stuff.’

‘I don’t expect that from you. It’s work.’

‘Yeah, maybe all the promotion things, but music is a part of you,’ Dorian said, free hand digging into the worn covers, gentle cascade of soothing colours and sounds all around, the _Remember Why You Started_ sign glowing dimly. ‘And I can’t… share that with you.’

‘That’s not a downside.’

‘That’s _not_ what you said before.’

‘When?’

Dorian huffed. ‘In the hotel in Prague.’

Cullen made a face, a cute frowny squint. ‘Dorian, there are no downsides to me being in love with you. There are no _downsides_ to you, period.’

Shaking his head slightly, Dorian swallowed over something sharp in his throat. ‘You don’t have to lie to me.’

‘I’m _not._ _’_

 _‘_ But you _said_ —’

‘I guarantee you misunderstood,’ Cullen cut across firmly. ‘Because I love you a pretty crazy amount and from my perspective, there are _no_ downsides to that. Not for me. If anything, you’re the opposite of that. You’re the _upside_.’

Dorian rolled his eyes, clamping down hard on a smile. ‘That’s not a thing.’

‘Upsides are a thing. You’re my upside.’

‘That’s not—’

‘Too late. It’s branded in my brain now. Dorian Pavus, man I’m wildly in love with, upside to everything in my life.’

It was casual and breezy, teasing almost but Dorian knew Cullen wasn’t one to say something without meaning it. He was naturally intense, tended to wear his heart on his sleeve.

And Dorian really, really wanted to let it go, but…

‘So, there’s no downside to being with me?’

‘No.’

Dorian bit his bottom lip, determinedly not looking at Cullen then. ‘You promise?’

Cullen curled their free hands together tightly. ‘I promise. If you could _feel_ how I feel about you, you really wouldn’t even need to ask. I wish I could show you, but I’d probably come across a bit mental.’

Dorian stared down at their hands. ‘You could show me.’

Cullen cleared his throat a tiny bit. ‘I don’t want to, um, freak you out.’

With a semi-petulant shrug, Dorian waited, wishing he didn’t feel so fucking vulnerable but he could hear that song, he could hear the lyrics. He could remember people in that coffee shop humming along to it.

‘You won’t.’

‘Dorian—’

‘Show me,’ he blurted out, eyes screwing tight shut. ‘Please.’

There was a shuddering breath, a shaky thing as Cullen brought his hand up to press a firm kiss there. ‘Look at me, then.’

Dorian did so and Cullen shuffled to be closer, put Dorian’s hand over his heart. ‘Feel here,’ he told him, resting their foreheads together. ‘Feel how hard it beats when I tell you that I—I’ve never known anyone like you before and that I loved you the first moment I saw you. That I think about you every second of the day. That I want to make you mine in all the ways that you should never tell someone, not this early on. That I’ve spent time thinking what kind of ring you’d like, how to ask you to be _mine_ always and offer myself and all that I am in exchange. That sometimes I can’t catch my breath thinking that maybe one day, I’ll be able to do that.’ His exhale trembled and Dorian heard him swallow even over the rushing sigh of the oceans. ‘Ask you to marry me, build a life with you, be yours completely.

It was a deep, thudding thing beneath Dorian’s palm, Cullen’s heart but he could barely feel it under the groaning weight of his own. Under the expanding force that threatened to bubble up in his throat and bend his ribs outward because oh _God_ , what the fuck was happening?

‘Feel it Dorian, when I say that I’ve never been this happy. That I’ve never, not once in my whole life, been this comfortable in my own skin. That just _seeing_ you makes me feel light, that the thought of being parted from you,’ there, the heart beneath Dorian’s palm smashed harder. ‘Makes my insides twist and ache because I think… I think I’ve _missed_ you all my life, even before I knew you. Like there was a hole inside me and no one has ever fit there, but it was made for you. You make me believe in past lives, you make me believe in fucking _magic_ , because that’s what you are, what you do to me. Can you _feel it?_ _’_

Dorian managed a small, slow nod because he _could_ feel it.

‘The only downside I can even conceive of would be losing you.’ Cullen’s voice became tight, slightly pained and he was shaking all over, fuck he was _trembling_. His hand over Dorian’s pressed just that little bit harder. ‘And that would be my fault, my failure which… which is something I dread. But I’m myself with you and it doesn’t disgust you or make you turn away.’ His voice cracked. ‘I’m myself with you and you look at me and you _smile_ , Dorian.’

Breath caught, lungs tight, throat thick, Dorian blinked away a burning sensation, Cullen’s words threatening to unmoor him.

‘So please, please know that when I say I love you, I _love you_ completely and utterly, in every way. All the things about yourself you think are flaws, they’re as precious to me as the ones you prize. Everything about you calls out to me, draws me deeper into loving you and I… I can’t control it like I should. Can’t hold myself back from falling in love with you, more and more each day. I’m fucking _crazy_ about you and it’s right here, song in my heart that gets louder every minute we’re together. I love you Dorian, I love you _so much_ , you have no idea.’

It was a prickly, almost painfully sensate tumble of words when Dorian blurted out, ‘I love you too,’ fingers digging into the skin of Cullen’s chest a little, clinging like he was about to fall. ‘I love you too, _so much.’_

Cullen made a broken sound, like a sob that caught and shattered. They were both breathing shallow, breathing fast, tangled emotions tied with vulnerability and the need to _eradicate it._ To cement them together, to rid the space between them of any doubt.

Dorian loved him. He loved him so much it hurt. He was in love, had been for a while now even if he couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment.

‘You love me?’

‘I do,’ Dorian gasped, sliding both hands around the back of Cullen’s neck to cinch them closer, to fuse them together so it stopped hurting, to stem the flow of everything he felt then that came gushing like blood from a cut. He _needed_ Cullen, he’d never felt so raw, so unguarded.

No walls, no armour, no holding back.

He crushed their mouths together, barely labelled it a kiss for the sheer force behind it. It was to _show,_ to make Cullen see and feel and know that Dorian loved him, of course he loved him, and here it was, the proof. In his heart, in his blood, in the love behind that point of contact, crushing, almost painful thing that had Cullen groaning, low, rumbling and so _pained_ , like Dorian might well and truly be the ruin of him.

‘Say it again.’

‘I’m in love with you, Cullen.’

It was debauched and graceless, lips smashing together, noses bumping, teeth catching and Dorian could feel every inch of what it was he elicited from Cullen then. Could _feel_ all of it like he was Cullen and Cullen was Dorian. He didn’t know when he’d moved into Cullen’s lap, legs locked around his back, but he didn’t care.

It was with a need that bordered on violence when he sank both hands into Cullen’s hair and pulled those curls enough to break the kiss, both breathless and panting. ‘I love you,’ he said, sounding _wrecked_ even to his own ears. ‘I _love_ you.’

Every time he said it, something _built_ inside him. Stacked and grew tall, dizzying fucking feelings that swirled and collided hard, jolting every part of him and maybe it was magic, real, honest to God magic because he’d never known anything like this before. Had never known he could _feel_ this way. Like he was about to come just from telling this man he loved him. Like he never wanted to put clothes on ever again because this was their natural state, the best way for them to be close.

He could feel the last of his restraint slipping away forever, like holding water in his hands, never to be retrieved ever again.

Dorian looked deeply into light brown eyes, drinking in all of the blond then as he said, ‘I’m so in love with you, Cullen. I can’t stop it.’

Terrifying and wonderful, it was. Offering his heart up like that, splitting himself wide and saying, _look, see this? All of it_ _s yours, should you want it_. Terrifying because if he fell, he’d never recover, but _wonderful_ because he knew Cullen had him. Would never let him fall.

Cullen _had him_.

‘I love you too,’ Cullen told him, lips moving over his as he spoke, not quite kissing, strong arms moving over Dorian’s back to hold him closer, chest to chest. ‘You don’t _need_ to stop it because I love you too.’

When they kissed again, Dorian lifted himself enough to align Cullen’s hardness, to sink slowly and agonisingly perfectly onto him, still slick and opened from earlier, when it had all been about the glitter, about doing what they wished they’d done that first time, back in Dorian’s small bedroom. His tongue curled against Cullen’s, gripping each other tight as he sank lower and lower, full to the hilt, full of Cullen and he said it again, said it over and over, lost himself in the freedom of those words, let go of the last piece that had been holding anything back.

Dorian _trust-fell_ into the man beneath him, let himself fall knowing he would be caught and kept safe every single time.

He let go, dissolved the barriers between them as Cullen moved inside him, as their bodies moved together in that most ancient and primal perfection, that _rhythm_ that had started before all others, before music, before song. Rhythm of hearts, of skin and bones. Song of gasps, a broken groaning chorus and everything was musical, everything was magic because they were inside each other, nothing left to keep them apart now.

‘I love you,’ he said again, like he could make up for lost time by saying it this much. ‘Cullen, I _love_ you. You’re… fuck, you’re everything to me too. Everything.’

The words fell from his lips and he sounded almost drunk, almost slurring because the effort of speaking was just too much then.

Cullen held him tighter, burying his face in his neck and Dorian kissed his hair, clung hard as he rode him, as they did something Dorian had never done before in his whole life, which was to _make love._

And that was so ridiculous he almost wanted to laugh because nobody did that anymore. A phrase that had become irrelevant to anyone who enjoyed sex for the sake of it, not needing the word _love_ to justify the action. But with Cullen deep inside him then, with something building between that felt so shared, so truly born of them both that it was almost frightening, Dorian found he couldn’t label it fucking. Suddenly and quietly realised that he’d never actually understood what those words meant before, make love.

Because it was _happening._ It was happening to him with every single thrust, with every burst of friction induced pleasure that rocked over his skin, edging him closer. It was all tangled up. Desire, desperation and sheer fucking adoration braiding together to make… well, _love_.

Cullen’s hand moved up his sides, over his front, rough skin brushing his nipples and the bruise he was sucking into Dorian’s neck would leave a mark, pretty dark reminder of that _love_ whenever Dorian looked in the mirror. Cullen’s scent filled his head, spoiling him for anything less than the smell of his skin, of fresh sweat, of that strange combination of cedar and sea salt, of honey and rain. Cullen’s smell. _Cullen_.

Cullen’s hands, Cullen’s hair, Cullen’s mouth, his teeth, his tongue. The noises, the way his voice broke and rolled and Dorian found himself wishing he could hear him sing then. Sing Dorian’s name and make it rhyme, make it _stick_.

Cullen loved him and he loved Cullen. It was inside them, between them, all around. In the air Dorian panted, in every touch and he was going to come so hard he’d black out, surely. Head swimming with love like it was oxygen and he’d been _drowning_ before, never realising.

It was magic, pure and utter magic.

When Cullen said it again, said those magical fucking words that Dorian had been so scared of saying back, all that love they’d been making crashed over him like a wave. It rocked him to his core and at that core, at the very centre of him even as he undulated and cried out, fingers digging deep into sweat slicked skin, he felt Cullen’s name there in musical notes, in dancing cursive pink and purple, a symphony of synaesthesia he would never get out of his head, nor his heart.

And he realised, mouth against his lover’s skin as he rode it out, maybe that was one song he didn’t want to forget.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! We should be back in the weekly update rhythm from now on even as I'm taking part in NaNoWriMo this year which is SUPER exciting as I'm writing a story that takes place in the larger universe of my forthcoming YA series. So if anyone wants to come on over and support me, my Twitter handle is below. 
> 
> I do SOMEWHAT tentatively expect this to be done come November. Then again, I also swore this would be 40k, so y'know. 
> 
> In the next chapter, well. I feel like this chapter was the peak of the happiness mountain which really leaves only one way to go from here. Much as I would love to stay on this island with the pair of them F O R E V E R, sadly, things are about to GO DOWN. All I'll say is, buckle up, keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times and don't forget to scream on the way down! 💜💜💜


	20. I'm Battle Scarred, I Am Working Oh So Hard (To Get Back To Who I Used To Be)

_‘More shots!’_

_‘No, I really don’t—’_

_‘Shut it, kid, we smashed it today! Shots! C’mon, we’ll do ‘em together!’_

_‘I don’t want to.’_

_Harry gave Dorian a quizzical look, a thing of doubt and disdain._

_‘Not like you to turn down a free drink.’_

_Dorian rubbed his face._ _‘I’m just tired.’_

_The German bar was packed way beyond what safety protocol would likely allow. Dorian couldn_ _’t even lean against the bar without someone knocking into him, people moving behind and brushing up against him rudely. The noise was a dull roar, heavy metal over speakers that had seen better days and the smell of patchouli oil and body odour was overwhelming. It wasn’t the kind of place Dorian liked, that was for sure, but it was the place where Fully Charged had played to a crowd that couldn’t get enough. Two encores and a thunderous chorus of screams had his boyfriend in an unstoppably good mood._

_And Dorian, he was just tired. So fucking tired. His head ached like a motherfucker, though he was getting used to having one semi-constantly. Krem had offered earplugs and though he_ _’d refused before, if he offered again, Dorian would take them. His back ached all the time, sleeping on a cramped pull out bed on a rickety coach that had seen better decades. Eating only shit when and where they stopped, always fast food, always junk._

_He was just_ _… exhausted._

_It had been a month since he_ _’d left Lana with the keys to his loft and joined his boyfriend on the road. His role was unclear, except to simply_ help _wherever he could. He was a helper. He was a roadie. He was an emotional crutch._

 _Most days it was exciting, most days he loved seeing new places, loved being needed. He kissed Harry proudly, he let others watch jealously as those big hands roamed down his back, cupping his arse until Dorian would push him away, smirking in warning. It was fun, it_ was _, just_ _…_

_Not right then._

_Right then, he was tired and low, he wanted to sleep in a real bed. Wanted a shower that wasn_ _’t lukewarm and left him feeling dirtier than before he’d even stepped into the mouldy coffin sized space. He wanted to stop long enough to go to a fucking_ shop _and buy something decent to eat._

_Krem and Dalish came up behind him, nudging and backslapping as was their greeting._

_‘Hey,’ he offered, trying to dredge up a smile as he yelled, ‘Great show, right?’_

_Dalish hopped onto Harry_ _’s back, yelling and waving her arms around wildly, accepting the shots Dorian’s boyfriend passed up to her. Krem gave a wry grin and shook his head, downing his own._

_‘You feeling any better?’ he asked Dorian, raising his voice to be heard over the crushing din._

_Dorian nodded and winked, not wanting to worry Krem but also not wanting to lie convincingly._

_All he wanted to do, truth be told, was go home._

_The thought of his quiet, warm, lovely loft made him want to cry just then. Germany was_ cold _as all out fuck in January and sleeping on the tour bus meant laying there freezing cold listening to a dozen people snore._

_‘You sure?’ Krem asked, moving closer. ‘You look kinda like shit.’_

_Dorian laughed and when Harry set up a row of shots, that time he took one. Better numb than_ _… whatever the fuck this was. Depression maybe? Dorian’s laughter tapered off into bitter rolls of a low chuckle and then he stopped, abruptly embarrassed and ashamed. He was_ lucky _to be there. Fucking Christ, his boyfriend was a rock star, he was seeing all of Europe for_ free _. He got to be with amazing people, he got to be a part of something incredible._

_‘I’m good,’ he assured Krem, more feeling in it that time. ‘Do you guys need help with anything?’_

_Krem didn_ _’t seem convinced, but shook his head. ‘Nah, we’re set. Why don’t you go back to the bus, catch a few hours without the rest of us there? You could sleep in my bunk if you want, it’s a bit—’_

_‘The fuck? No way!’ Harry intervened, indignant and playful. ‘Sending him away to bed without me? Not having that!’_

_Krem rolled his eyes and moved just in time as Hardiss shrugged Dalish off his back, sending the spry guitar player to the floor where she landed gracefully. He wrapped a thick arm around Dorian and pulled him close, aiming a sloppy kiss for his mouth. Dorian could have turned away but Harry would take that as a challenge and it was usually just easier to let him do what he liked when he was drunk, bless him._

_His boyfriend tasted of sour tequila, of bar snacks and late night desire. Dorian felt himself being drawn into both arms as the kiss deepened and when he was lifted off the stool, he already knew what was going to happen. He just hoped it would be back on the bus because it was sub-zero temperatures outside and though Harry might have been immune to the cold, Dorian really fucking_ wasn’t _._

_Some of the band members cheered and laughed as Harry dragged Dorian by the hand off the dance floor, headed for the toilets. Dorian sighed internally, trying to remind himself to be grateful when life offered a compromise._

_‘Gonna fuck you,’ Harry said, pushing Dorian into the stall hard enough that he stumbled. ‘Gonna fuck you till you cry.’_

_Dorian undid his belt and mentally checked out._

_He was getting better at it._

_*_

Dorian awoke warm and comfortable, snuggled in strong arms and covered in a duvet that smelled of the thing he loved most.

Cullen.

At first, he didn’t move. Just opened his eyes and took in a deeper breath, body rousing slowly. Sunlight filtered through the moving gaps of the curtains, tossed gently to and fro by the sea air, he could see it reflected on the wall in front of him. Cullen’s breathing was deep and rhythmic, soothing like the ocean itself. His arms were wrapped around Dorian from behind, spooned snug against him. Dorian fought to recall if he’d ever felt so safe, already knew he hadn’t but was curious about which memory at least came _close_.

He stared around at Cullen’s room, at the handwritten words on the walls, reading a few lyrics here and there. Some were very sad, but in a wistful kind of way, words that when combined with music would have been nothing less than beautiful.

Dorian thought of last night, of telling Cullen he loved him. Of saying it over and over. Of how it had _felt_. How it still felt.

He smiled softly, stroking the skin of Cullen’s hands and closed his eyes.

This was it, he realised.

The happiest he’d ever felt.

His gentle ministrations soon woke Cullen, rumbling sounds vibrating against Dorian’s back and he slowly shifted.

‘Mmm,’ he burred. ‘Morning, beautiful.’

Cullen’s arms tightened slightly around Dorian and he pressed a warm kiss into his hair.

Dorian reached up with one hand, half turning, and cupped his cheek, their gazes meeting. ‘Morning, darling.’

Cullen kissed him again. ‘Tea?’

*

Dorian sat outside with a steaming cup of perfectly made tea in both hands and he watched the ocean roll in and out, crystalline blue with a clear sky above. He wanted to go _in_ the water today, wanted to dip beneath it and feel it surround him. Cullen was inside making breakfast with Fenris. Leliana and Alistair were still in bed, up in the _bubble_ while Rosalie and Josie lay sprawled on sun loungers, sunglasses and big floppy hats adorned.

It felt like a dream, if he was being honest. The kind of thing you dream and then awake to find a great big gaping hole in your chest, knowing that happiness was only real inside your mind.

Only it _was_ real. The tea was hot and the air was cool. It was all very real.

Cullen made pancakes and waffles for breakfast, all manner of fruits and _sauces_ accompanying the thick, heavenly smelling stacks, with jugs of fresh orange and apple juice. He kissed Dorian as he sat down, like he just couldn’t help himself.

They sat side by side and ate pancakes and Dorian tried to hold onto that feeling, tried to immortalise it because if he could, he was sure he’d be able to get through anything life ever had to throw at him.

‘What shall we do today?’ Rosalie asked.

Fenris inclined his head, sharing a small look with Cullen.

‘Camp in the mountains?’

*

It was an hour drive into the heart of the mountains, lush and green, so _fresh_ it made Dorian’s eyes water a little the first time they got out and looked around, the scent of fresh water in the air, twining with pine and distant, zesty summer flowers.

Fenris and Leliana had driven them into the heart of what seemed to be a massive freshwater gorge. A crashing waterfall cascaded down huge, smooth grey rocks and all before them, a gorgeous breadth of pale green and turquoise water rippled and ran.

‘The Solenzara river,’ Leliana told Dorian as the others unpacked the trunks, setting up tents and other things Dorian was a bit unfamiliar with. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘It is,’ Dorian agreed, letting himself drink in the sight before him. ‘No one else is here,’ he added, looking around.

‘People might come later,’ she said with a shrug. ‘It’s a good spot, but not especially well known. Come on, help us get set up and we’ll go in.’

The banks of the gorge were rocky and tricky to navigate. The stones were chalky and they glared in the sunlight, but once they’d set up what Fenris called _base camp,_ they then established an area to sit at with a pair of fold out picnic benches, baskets of food and buckets of drinks on either side. Once it was all done, Dorian pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his shoes.

He couldn’t look away from the water, felt mesmerised by it. It was calling out to him and by the time he dipped a foot into it, body jolting to feel the _cold_ , he was grinning widely.

‘Dorian, you want swim shoes?’ Josie called out, but Dorian shook his head. The feel of the stones beneath his feet would ground him, help him acclimate, he felt sure.

‘No thanks,’ he said and then began to wade. Slowly at first, the cold hitting the skin of his legs in stages but each time it gripped his chest, he just smiled all the more, loving the feel of it. The water was crystal clear, glittering in the sunlight like jewels thrown across blue green silk. At waist depth, his breath was coming shallow and short, body not especially thrilled about this state of events, even if he himself was enraptured by it.

Dorian closed his eyes, took a deep breath and went under.

A momentary stranglehold of physical, primal _panic_ caused by the frigid, impossibly fresh waters tightened all around him, as if his skin were contracting but Dorian stayed under, opened his eyes and forced himself to relax.

He relaxed and let his body adjust and it did. The water became _cool_ , his body was one with the water and when he moved his arms, pushing forward to swim, it moved over him benign and perfect.

Resurfacing, he breathed deeply and lay on his back.

‘Is it cold?’ Alistair called out warily.

‘No,’ Dorian sighed, eyes closed once more against the sun above him as he floated and the water moved beneath him, carrying him, caressing him. ‘It’s perfect.’

*

They swam and played in the water and sometimes, Cullen would kiss him for no reason at all. Bodies together in the cool river water, Cullen’s skin warm and inviting, he would wrap his arms all around Dorian, lift him just a tiny bit and then kiss him. Sink into the water, stopping as the surface brushed their necks and kiss Dorian all the deeper then, as if they were invisible in the water, in the shady end of the Solenzara river, trees above letting only tiny rays of sunlight through and the nearby waterfall sang a song of white noise, covering what they whispered to each other.

Little promises made in the water, kissed back and forth as Dorian wrapped himself around Cullen, gravity releasing him and making him so light in all ways. His blood was a cool, clean river running through him making him feel as though this was how all humans were _meant_ to feel.

Happy, at peace, _safe_ and so loved.

Cullen made no attempt at hiding how he felt when he stared into Dorian’s eyes, when he pushed through wet hair and kissed him slowly, lovingly, _possessively_. Dorian floated and he kissed him back, so happy he was almost dizzy with it and all around him, everything was _perfect._

*

‘ _Hey, just me, had a few minutes to myself so thought I_ _’d send a VM instead of calling and risking a barrage of screams and innuendos, plus I know you’re both at work, so. Hmm, yeah. You’ve been asking what’s happening and I’m sorry I haven’t had as much chance to reply and explain, but it’s easier just to tell you, I think.’_

_*_

Come evening, after a day spent swimming and exploring the gorge, the outskirts of the river and even jumping the waterfall a few times, Rosalie looked around at the darkening skies and said, ‘Shall we make a fire?’

Dorian helped Fenris make a fire, large round stones from the shores of the river creating a safety circle for the blaze. On blankets and inflatable camp beds, they sat around and cooked dinner over the fire. Sausages, both tofu and meat, plus potatoes wrapped in foil and cooked in salty butter, along with all the other things they’d brought in the cool boxes. Dorian’s body was warming nicely from the water he’d spent pretty much the whole day in, drizzling ketchup and mustard on his steaming hot sausages, wrapped in a bun. Cullen sat beside him, cooking onions in foil over the fire too. They sizzled and hissed when he took them off and Dorian offered his hotdog, requesting said onions.

The blanket around his shoulders was one from Cullen’s bedroom, a lovely dark blue cable knit thing. Cullen had probably brought it along for Dorian. The majority of the other blankets were the ones Alistair had got from the supermarket.

They sat around together, eating what they cooked from the fire, talking, laughing, telling stories. Fenris sipped a beer and in that place, surrounded by nature and no technology, he was the most at ease Dorian had ever seen him.

Alistair sat with Josie, the two gossiping about people they knew. Rosalie lay with her head in Fenris’s lap and he made all kinds of plaits with her long hair. Leliana sat beside him, the pair almost touching at the shoulders.

And Dorian sat with Cullen, because of course he did. He only ever wanted to sit with Cullen, only ever wanted to be near Cullen. Parting was inconceivable to him then, to the happy, precious rhythm of his heart.

They ate basic foods, made with enough extra care to turn them positively delicious (garlic butter on sausages, dear God) and Dorian leaned his head on Cullen’s shoulder when the blond wrapped his arm around him, watching the fire crackle and burn, the occasional hiss-pop exploding in a tiny shower of sparks as the wood was consumed.

Dorian looked up, blinking away the imprint of the fire, and saw a deep blue sky filled with stars so dense, it was like the galaxy itself. Cullen played with the hair at the nape of his neck and Dorian tried to find the only constellation he knew, which was the _little saucepan_. He didn’t know any of their real names, but he’d always been able to find that one. His friend in the sky, his map of that big, beautiful upside down place that sighed peacefully at night and let him see all that glittered in the darkness.

‘That there,’ he whispered to Cullen, lifting his hand as Rosalie’s story about a bar fight in Melbourne earned cackling laughter. ‘That’s my little saucepan.’

Cullen followed his gaze, aligned himself to be precisely guided by the tip of Dorian’s finger and after a beat, he said, ‘Oh, yeah. I see it. Is that the proper name?’

‘No,’ Dorian shrugged, not looking away from the stars that formed it. ‘It’s what I call it.’

He felt Cullen’s gaze. ‘Your little saucepan?’

‘Dorian’s Saucepan, yeah.’

‘Hmm. I like it. Now I can always find you,’ he said, low and warm, dropping a kiss to the place where Dorian’s neck met his shoulder.

*

_‘We went camping last week, up in the mountains. God, it was amazing. I know, I know exactly what you’re going to say, but I really loved it. There were no bugs, no terrifying creatures just… just this river in the mountains. We camped there for three days. Hiking and exploring. We found this other waterfall, this huge one. I jumped off it. Can you believe that? I mean, you probably can, I’m a bit mental and all, but, yeah. It was at least thirty feet high and I jumped off of it. Incredible. But yeah, we camped and it was… well, it was just amazing. We went into this tiny local village nearby, got food and things. I got you both a bracelet each. You’ll like them, I think. They have cowshells. Anyway. Uh, well. I know I already bored you with how much I love Cullen, but let me just bore you a little bit more while I have the time.’_

*

On the final night of camping, Dorian led Cullen away from the fire, from the others and they went for a walk around the area he’d come to know almost as well as his own loft. They ventured around the curve of the waterfall, misty moisture in the air born of crashing water. It was dark, but Dorian had a torch, aimed at the waterfall. He set it down, giving them light all around but not directly on them.

‘Hey,’ Cullen said, voice lilted with a smile.

Dorian curled his hands around his neck and kissed him the way he loved most, so he was learning. Kissed him slow and _deep_ , like he was leaving an imprint, like he was drinking Cullen down, taking him inside himself. Licked into his mouth, took that bottom lip between his teeth for but a moment, enough to cause a shiver to run through the man whose hands roamed beneath his t-shirt.

‘I want to do it here,’ Dorian said, too far gone to care about the phrasing. There was water all around then, fresh enough to drink, and stars above that he’d never even seen before, friends for his _saucepan_. It was a place that would always, always stay with him and he wanted to mark it. Mark it in a different way to all the times previous, wrapped together in a warm, dark tent.

‘Are you sure?’

Cullen asked that a lot, enough that Dorian had stopped minding, had stopped feeling impatient. He accepted that Cullen cared, maybe too much, to let anything get out of control if it might have even the slightest negative impact on Dorian. He cared so much that Dorian could _feel_ it, even when they weren’t touching.

‘Yes,’ he told Cullen then, stepping just slightly more into his space, bringing them flush and together and touching _everywhere_ , were it not for the interference of _clothes_. ‘I want—’ he floundered for a moment, not _able_ to say that he wanted to make love with Cullen in one of his favourite places on earth because even Dorian at his happiest had limits, so instead he said, ‘I want to be with you here, I want to leave a piece of us here, always.’

When Cullen kissed him that time, it was the kind of kiss that started things, that led places. Deeper and faster, making Dorian come undone because Cullen kissed him like he loved him and, well, he _did_. It was all right there in the kiss, in the touches, in the way he sighed into Dorian’s mouth and how he never once seemed to feel self-conscious in expressing it.

Dorian wanted that for himself, he wanted to love without caring how he came across. He hoped he was learning to, though really, it was _easier_ in places like this. Where he felt at one with the world.

‘I love you,’ Cullen said, lips trailing to the side, over his cheek, down his neck. ‘God, I love you so much.’

Dorian smiled and let his head fall back, the feel of Cullen sucking a bruise into his neck as his teeth moved lightly over the sensitive skin, causing his eyes to roll. There was a _side_ of his neck that Cullen favoured, that he always went to as if following a compass. It was becoming hyper-sensitive, that place. It caused goosebumps to break out all over one side of his body whenever Cullen’s lips so much as _ghosted_ over the skin.

‘I love you too,’ he said, heart hitching slightly when Cullen made a soft, broken sound in reply. It affected Cullen when he said that, elicited delightful reactions from the blond. ‘And I want you to take me right here, so we’ll always be a part of this place.’

Cullen dropped to his knees and Dorian sank his fingers in golden curls, the motion so familiar to him now it often happened without meaning to. To say he loved playing with Cullen’s hair was an _understatement_.

Dorian looked up at the sky, tasted the waterfall in the air and felt his boyfriends mouth around his cock, the feel of his silky hair beneath his hands and the shudders he drew when he _pulled_ just slightly.

He was the centre of the world, he was the still point of the universe and that too, like so much else, was _perfect._

*

_‘…so, yeah. I‘m fucking crazy about him. Sorry, I know I said that like a million times but it’s, well it’s hard to stop saying it really. It’s like, there’s something inside me that just wants to yell it out to the whole world. Tell everyone. Weird right? Anyway, uh—oh wait, lemme just. Yeah, that’s better. I never trust the slide thing so I can let go with my thumb, but this is a long message and I need to make tea while they’re all outside. OK, where was I?’_

_*_

They left the mountains and returned to the mansion, Dorian taking a long last look at the river.

‘We’ll come back,’ Cullen promised because he knew Dorian was most definitely sad to leave. ‘Whenever you like.’

They kissed once, slow and deliberate. Dorian could kiss Cullen forever, could literally just _kiss_ him and sometimes not even want it to go anywhere.

‘Thank you,’ he said and meant it. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘You’re everything.’

Alistair drove and Fenris rode beside him, neither commenting on what the pair in the backseat were up to.

‘When we get back,’ Dorian asked quietly. ‘Can we go in the sea?’

*

_‘Right, so after camping we just… spent a few extra days at his—their—mansion. It’s all of theirs, y’know, it’s weird. Anyway. So, that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact as much. I miss you both. It’s just. Well, we wanted to stay a bit longer. It’s unbelievable here. Even when I was rich, I’ve never been in a place like this had so much fun doing… nothing. We don’t really go anywhere. We just hang out and Cullen cooks, or we all help, and we talk or we swim. They have a little boat in this dockside thing, because literally_ of course _they do. Fuck, the money_ _’s going to be a problem, I can just feel it, but for now I don’t care. Some days we went out in the boat or swimming or just whatever really. It’s the most beautiful place on earth and I’m… I’ve never been this happy. Christ, you can probably tell. I’ve smiled like a twat through this whole thing. Right, anyway. I actually had something to_ ask _you both._ _’_

_*_

Dorian’s fingers drew patterns over Cullen’s lower bare back, the blond sat up writing in his leather bound journal, glasses on, completely naked save for the blankets pooled around him and Dorian lay on his stomach, reading a book in a similar state of relaxed nudity.

He’d been reading the book for a while now but hadn’t really been _reading_ it, too distracted. There was something inside him, something that was nervous, but determined.

‘Cullen,’ he said and Cullen hummed, distracted.

‘Hmm?’

‘Will you… maybe play something for me?’

Cullen set the journal down, pen in between the pages as he closed the cover and turned fully to Dorian.

‘Play for you?’

‘Yeah. Like, a song.’

Whiskey coloured eyes watched him steadily. Dorian _felt_ the ghost of the, _You Don_ _’t Have To Do This,_ that had thankfully died a few days ago, Dorian wasn’t sure when. There was only a beat of silence as Cullen ascertained what he needed to before he said, ‘OK. What would you like me to play?’

Dorian rolled onto his back, one hand on his heart and closed his eyes, swallowing down the rolling tremor of gradually ebbing fear.

‘Anything you want. Just sing for me.’

*

Cullen sang for him sometimes. The songs were soft, quiet things and they couldn’t be further from the kind of “music” his ex had produced. Cullen sang and Dorian tried to make sense of the bittersweet _twisting_ sensation that wrung him out like a wet towel. It was probably the most intimate thing he’d ever done, for the sheer amount of _trust_ required. To let someone love him with music, with a song, with chords and minor keys, with that _voice_ that hooked him around the naval and _yanked_ like Cullen was a siren or something.

It took so much for Dorian to let go of the last remaining outposts, barriers within him that had protected him from exterior sources of pain. Walls that had shut out music whenever it had drifted past him in the street, gut clenched tight because it _hurt_ to hear it and no matter how much of a _loser_ that made him, he didn’t actually want to be hurt, not anymore.

Gradually, slowly, safe in Cullen’s presence and usually touching him in some way, he bade Cullen sing for him, _to_ him in that room of chaos and beauty, with the bare bones of songs strewn about the walls like decor of the soul. With the ocean nearby, with the mountains in the distance and people all about him who cared, who sought to make him smile and feel good about himself, Dorian let go.

He let go of the automatic, somewhat _nervous_ comparisons anytime Cullen did something wonderful, lovely or just plain decent.

He let go of the tightening sensation, a serpentine contraction in response to _fear._ He exhaled when it was difficult and let others help, let them make him feel better even if only in small ways. Slow, tiny movements towards progress but slow was _good_ , slow was harder to undo all in one go should it all fall apart.

So, Cullen sang for him and Dorian listened, let himself hear it, feel it. He let himself fall in love with what Cullen had created because it was just so _Cullen_ , no denying it. He was _part_ of his music, heart and soul. Maybe because Dorian knew him, was coming to know him more and more every moment of their time together, but it was like a mainline into the man’s heart, those songs. Dorian learnt of past pain, of loss, of heartbreak and of how love had been the undertow, had pulled him along and kept him moving when otherwise he might have drowned.

And he fell in love with Cullen all the more.

*

‘So, I was thinking about Disneyland,’ Dorian told him one morning while they pottered around the kitchen, making breakfast together for everyone. He was making eggs, getting good at it too.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah. I appreciate you letting us stay longer when I asked,’ Dorian said, carefully flipping one at a time so they yolk didn’t break, no mean feat. ‘And I know we have to leave eventually and it’s, well it’s Sophia’s birthday in two days. Disneyland, right?’

He looked over at Cullen who was determinedly keeping his attention on the other elements of breakfast. Of the vegetables he was preparing for the scramble, of the seasoning and so forth.

‘Yes, in two days.’

He said it with quiet apprehension and Dorian understood.

Corsica was a place removed from the world. In the mansion, there was nothing to worry about, no concerns that required attention. It was where they’d first kissed, where every beautiful, intimate thing had happened between them and all of it was _sheltered_ , kept safe.

Outside, the world was a brutal place. It waited patiently, knowing their return was inevitable. Cullen’s _job_ , Dorian’s lack of one. Madeline. Money. The stalker.

Disneyland.

Dorian twisted the sea-salt grinder lightly over the eggs. ‘Do you think I should come?’

‘Because we’re—?’

‘Yeah.’

Cullen still hadn’t looked at him.

‘I want you to come.’

‘I do too,’ Dorian said honestly. ‘But it’s for your daughter and I don’t want to detract from that. What I’m saying is, it’s more than fine if you want time with her. I’ll be waiting for you at home.’

Looking down, slicing peppers, Cullen gave a small, soft smile.

‘Sophia’s used to other people,’ he said. ‘Fenris and Lee are always there, sometimes Josie and Thom. That’s not the issue.’

Dorian nodded slowly. ‘Madeline.’

‘Hmm. She’s… vindictive and unpredictable. Part of me wants to protect you from her.’

One of the eggs broke when he flipped it and Dorian cursed, deciding to take that one for himself.

‘This is a case of, _I want what you want,_ darling,’ he said gently. ‘But I don’t think you can protect me forever.’

 _Especially not when I want to protect_ you _._

After a moment of stillness, Cullen nodded. ‘I want you to come.’

Dorian cracked another egg, determined to do better that time.

‘Then we’re going to Disneyland.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Thank you. I _did_ actually have a suggestion, though. Something to make it easier for you if you wanted to go off and do your own thing.’

*

_‘I don’t even know why I’m asking because I already know what the answer will be, but… Cullen asked me to invite you both to Disneyland, so, this is me, inviting you pair of disaster artists, if you’re free?’_

_*_

‘I’ll miss it,’ Dorian said, taking a last look back around the lobby, the doors locked and windows shuttered. Clothes packed and security systems being set while Cullen loosely tangled their fingers together.

‘We’ll be back,’ Cullen assured him, dropped a kiss to his shoulder.

Dorian couldn’t help but feel a small pang when the door closed behind them, but when he caught Alistair’s eye, he smiled slightly to remember that he’d purposefully left a pair of socks in Cullen’s drawer.

 _A piece of himself in a happy place,_ like the redhead had once advised.

*

It was harder still when they flew to Marseille, changing planes and then parting ways with Josie, Alistair and Rosalie, who were headed off to different places. Rosalie was headed back to England to visit Bran and his family. Josie was off to catch up with other _projects_ , as she called them and Alistair, well his time was simply up.

Dorian found himself teary eyed when he hugged them, having grown so close to them the last few weeks. It was nice knowing Rosalie would be in the UK for at least a month or so. Josie said she’d see him literally the following week and while in the air, Alistair texted Dorian a rude poem that almost rhymed with his name, both of which helped him to feel a little better.

It was the good kind of sadness, Dorian reflected as their plane levelled out, headed for Paris.

Cullen was still a shaky flier and Dorian didn’t have to pretend to be scared that time, able to take care of his boyfriend with kisses and gentle, low assurances of how boring and standard flights were, of how they were safer than cars. Cullen even laughed when Dorian admitted to faking his fear previously.

*

Warm summer rain, Dorian discovered, _did things_ to his boyfriend who wasted absolutely no time before taking Dorian’s still damp face in his hands and kissing him, quite unexpectedly, as soon as their feet hit the tarmac of Paris. There were people tutting loudly, muttering under their breath as they moved around them, still trailing off the plane, stretching and coming alive after the flight.

Cullen’s left hand slid down his back, pulling him closer and the downpour was simply _torrential_ , Dorian already soaked from the delay of standing there, being kissed within an inch of his life by Cullen, though it was hard to care. Hard to even pretend to give a fuck about things like wet clothes, about the inconvenience of rain when Cullen’s lips were on his, kissing him without a care in the world for onlookers.

‘Welcome to Paris,’ Cullen muttered, pushing Dorian’s slick hair back and smiling as he kissed him a final time, a sweet, wet thing as thunder rumbled above them, summer storm in full swing.

*

Dorian had seen summer storms before, had been caught in a few but this one, uninvited guest of mid-July, sprawled across the sky, darkening everything and drowning the world with lukewarm rain. Dorian watched it from the inside of a limousine, out the tinted windows as they ventured away from the _Charles de Gaulle_ airport.

‘So,’ Fenris said, looking up from a stack of paperwork he’d been going through in the limo. Beside Dorian, Cullen was jittery, fingers tapping out a slightly manic 4/7 time signature on his thigh. ‘This isn’t great.’

‘Doable?’

Fenris inclined his head. ‘Well, anything’s _doable_ , but this is not a safe place to be. Thanks to Josie, we got the full roster of their security and there are two liaisons who Lee has been speaking with, both very happy to help but… it’s Disneyland. It’s a fucking theme park with sixty thousand people inside at any given time.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and his jaw worked. ‘Madeline is so fucking stupid sometimes.’

‘She’s not,’ Lee said reasonably, leafing through her own wad of paper atop her lap, oddly _quaint_ for them, Dorian mused, considering she’d had Cullen sign a contract with his finger on her phone not two weeks past. ‘She’s clever and this is a play from her, we know it. It’ll have us scrambling, frazzled and at our worst, or so she hopes.’

‘What would that accomplish?’ Dorian asked and two pairs of green eyes swivelled onto him, Cullen staring out of the other window.

‘Well,’ Fenris said. ‘You’ll see for yourself what kind of woman she truly is once you meet her, but I suppose her aim was to have our efforts scattered.’

‘To leave Cullen alone and vulnerable,’ Leliana said with certainty and smiled wryly, shaking her head. ‘She’s tried it a million times before. Tried so many awful things to attempt to split us up.’

Fenris’s expression darkened with disgust and Dorian was smart enough not to follow up there, considering that Cullen was now auditioning for a fucking sequel to _Whiplash_ on his leg, fingers flying in a rhythm so manic it could barely be called that.

Dorian took his hand, stopped the chaos and kissed the back of it. ‘Hey,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s all going to be fine. I’m here, we’re all here. We’ve got your back,’ he told his boyfriend, the man he loved so much that sometimes it blindsided him, left him breathless.

‘We have,’ Fenris said. ‘Plus, we could always sic Dorian’s friends on her. I’ve never seen such an impressive rap sheet, so many drunken disorderly’s.’

Cullen grasped Dorian’s hand with both of his, holding tightly and laughing in a shallow, shaky way. Christ, he was _scared._ It turned Dorian’s insides cold to realise it, but once he felt it, there was no way to ignore it. Cullen wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t anxious. He was _frightened_.

Dorian had never seen him frightened. Not when the stalker had broken into their loft, not when Dorian had come back from the dark streets of Prague with fresh blood and bruises. Those things had galvanised him, made him determined to do a better job of protecting Dorian from then on.

‘Thom was meant to be here with us, but he's come down with a serious case of stomach flu so I’m bringing in additional security,’ Fenris said quietly, closing the file and setting it aside on the leather seat. ‘Plain clothes people, we can set up corners and have them establish a base with their own security access. I’ll make sure she’s safe, Cullen.’

‘I know you will.’

‘And your friends can help too,’ Fenris added, addressing Dorian. ‘They’ll need to wear trackers. Do you think they’ll agree?’

Dorian could hear it now.

_I ain_ _’t wearing that fuckin’ shite, what, so the government can spy on me while I’m having a piss? Fuck that, fuck electricity, what happens if I get wrist cancer?_

_Dor, I can_ _’t wear that! It’s ugly and plain and if I’m wanking off a guy he’ll think I’m out on tag from prison or some shit, no way!_

‘Mmm,’ he went with, glancing at Cullen’s watch. Lana and Sera would arrive that evening. He had a few hours to brace for that particular incoming hurricane, though he couldn’t deny he was excited to see them again. He’d _missed_ those crazy bitches.

‘Great. So, with that in mind we can—’

Leliana swore fluently, scowling. Fenris looked over sharply.

‘What?’ Cullen asked. She stared down at her phone, mouth twisted.

‘Madeline. The card we gave her says that, among a ton of other shit that wasn’t agreed upon, she bought a _third_ ticket for the park.’

‘A third ticket?’

Cullen didn’t react, didn’t make any sound and Dorian just held his hand. Fucking _hell_ , no wonder he’d wanted Dorian to come.

‘For her new boyfriend, one assumes,’ Leliana answered coldly. ‘Without telling us beforehand, which means we had no time to vet him.’

Fenris said something in another language that was _definitely_ not pleasant.

‘It’s fine,’ Cullen said in an almost dead on impression of himself. ‘Like you said, safety is the priority. Madeline can go off, do whatever she wants with her boyfriend. It’s probably better this way.’

Because her focus would be elsewhere, Dorian guessed sadly.

He reached around and held Cullen then, the car rolling through the dark rainy roads that led to Disneyland and it couldn’t be in starker contrast to where they’d been that morning.

‘Love you,’ he whispered to Cullen like he was sharing a secret. ‘So much.’

Cullen gave a small sigh and hugged him back, staying that way for the rest of the journey.

*

The worst of the rain had stopped by the time they arrived at the gates, only a light drizzle here and there. The skies were clearing to reveal partial sun behind heavy clouds and though Dorian could still taste the ozone, the metallic residue of all that _energy_ crashing around, he felt cautiously optimistic that maybe the storm had passed.

‘Have you been here before?’ Cullen asked, shrugging on a jacket, his clothes still just a bit damp from the kiss on the runway.

‘I haven’t, actually,’ Dorian said. ‘I’ve been to the big one, Disney _world_ , in Orlando but I was so young I barely remember it.’

They were greeted by a dreamy eyed young woman with a jet black pixie cut and a clipboard. The limo had dropped them off somewhere _else_ , no front gates, no queueing.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ the woman, _Merrill_ as she’d introduced herself, chattered. ‘So, we have you all set up to sign in privately, as was requested by… well, _you_!’ she said, beaming at Leliana who surveyed her the way Dorian might survey a cheery canvasser before his first tea of the day.

‘Very good,’ Lee said, signing the clipboard when offered. ‘Several people will be arriving, assistants and such. They’ll be staying in their own suites and will have passwords to access our floor, are you—’

‘Of course!’ Merrill chirruped, blinking slowly. ‘Don’t you _worry_ , everything is set up and ready for you guys to have a blast!’

Fenris smothered a laugh, helping Dorian haul the bags out of the trunk.

‘You’re not French,’ Leliana pointed out as if such a thing were a crime.

‘Nope,’ she answered, smiling widely. ‘But it was my dream to come and work here and, I’m happy to say that with enough hard work and belief, your dreams really can come true!’

‘It was your dream to become a concierge, was it?’

‘Lee,’ Fenris warned gently. ‘Let’s get inside and have a drink.’

Cullen stepped in and signed a few more things before they loaded up a baggage trolley and headed inside. A bag boy took over in quaint fashion and it was only a short walk leading through all manner of non-descript doors and rooms before they were _in_ the park.

‘Wristbands,’ Merrill said dreamily. ‘Fastpass, all access and VIP, of course.’

Another cheerful woman placed the wristbands on each of them. ‘We also have in here your additional security requests. Our surveillance co-ordinator will come and speak with you once you’re settled in. We do have appliances we can offer, such as panic buttons and locators to—’

‘We’re fine in that respect,’ Fenris said curtly, clearly getting all _defensive_ about his bracelets. ‘The co-ordinator is Miss Vallen, yes?’

Merrill glanced down at her clipboard. ‘Yes! Do you know her?’

‘No, just checking,’ Fenris answered and Dorian would honestly have found his and Lee’s discomfort in what was meant to be the happiest place on earth _funny,_ had that same discomfort not extended to Cullen.

‘Madeline is already here,’ Leliana told Cullen quietly.

‘Yes, your wife checked in earlier with her friend and your daughter,’ Merrill said, positively beaming.

Everyone froze. ‘Wife?’ Cullen echoed softly.

Merrill’s smile never faltered. ‘Yes, she had a _lot_ of requests. Your daughter is an absolute squishy ball of beauty, isn’t she! We had their suite all set up with welcome packages; balloons, colouring sets and welcome hampers. She’s booked in for the Princess breakfast tomorrow morning too, but your wife said it would mostly be _you_ taking her around.’

 _Your wife_.

‘We’re not—it’s fine.’

Leliana made a low sound and Fenris broke the spiralling tension.

‘Dorian, you want to head up to the suite with Cullen? We can finish here.’

Snapping out of it quickly, Dorian nodded. He laced his fingers with Cullen’s and led him away, the bag boy having completely vanished.

‘Um, where are we going?’ he asked Fenris under his breath.

Merrill didn’t miss an opportunity to be cheerfully helpful.

‘You’re in the Castle Club, of course!’ she trilled. ‘There’s a cart outside waiting to take you there!’

*

It came as zero surprise that they were in the actual _Disneyland Hotel_ , though Dorian wondered that they hadn’t ended up staying in Cinderella’s fucking castle. 

Cullen wore sunglasses and had he a hoodie, Dorian knew it would have been up. Bless him, but he wasn’t in a very good place when the golf cart stopped in front of the gloriously gauche hotel, secondary guide who took over where Merrill left off leading them inside, chattering constantly.

There were people fucking _everywhere_. The hotel was the closest one to the park and though not quite inside yet, there were thousands of people swanning around, having fun despite the rain earlier. The sun was coming out now, all that moisture turning to humidity. Dorian missed the private beach, the mansion, the patio and the pool. He missed the mountains and the river.

But this was for Cullen’s little girl and that was all that mattered.

‘If you’ll just sign in here, Mr Rutherford,’ Merrill 2.0 said, offering yet more paperwork as they stood at the front desk. A young couple who walked past did a massive double-take, even slowing to look but their kids weren’t having it, yanking them towards the exit, desperate to get where the rides were. Dorian watched them go, shouldering the worst of his anxiety. Maybe he should get sunglasses too.

‘All right, sir, your bags are already in your suite and if you have need of anything during your stay, we’ve a dedicated service team standing by twenty four hours. Shall I take you up to your room now?’

‘No,’ Dorian said, thumb rubbing over Cullen’s knuckles. ‘We’ll find it, thanks.’

‘Of course!’

Dorian had very few memories of his time in Disneyworld Orlando, but the _Stepford_ routine was definitely familiar.

In the massive gilded elevator, Cullen let out a controlled breath and Dorian kissed his shoulder. ‘You’re safe,’ he promised quietly. ‘I’m here.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be—’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Dorian said easily, though somewhat sternly. ‘I _love_ you. I’m not going anywhere and whatever happens, however tough this is, we can face it _together_.’

The suite was… surprisingly standard. Dorian wondered, quite guiltily, if he was _spoilt_ just a bit. Couldn’t help comparing it to the Mandarin, to the mansion in Corsica and found it all just a tad lacking. Spacious, of course. Massive ridiculous bed, but it was gaudy and old fashioned.

The view, on the other hand, that was spectacular.

Double balcony doors opened to revealed an enormous overview of the park in all its manic glory. The rides, the buildings, the _sounds_.

‘Let’s have a shower,’ Dorian suggested, when he’d pulled a few things out of the suitcase. ‘A quick one. A _sexless_ one,’ he clarified when Cullen opened his mouth, no doubt to object. Oh, but he was so nervous it was seeping into Dorian’s very _bones_.

‘Just a quick one,’ Cullen relented quietly.

He let Dorian help him, let Dorian _undress_ him, really. Dorian was glad about the absence of false modesty or objections, his insides warm because Cullen was _letting_ him help. He undressed him and touched him constantly, running his hands soothingly over Cullen’s skin as if he were a skittish foal. He didn’t talk, let the running shower fill the silence and when Cullen was naked, he quickly undressed too.

‘Thank you,’ Cullen said in a small voice, stepping under the spray and Dorian followed, kicking his boxers off.

‘You don’t have to thank me.’

‘I want to.’

‘I know you do, darling.’

Under the running water, hot and perfect, Dorian squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into his hands and applied it to Cullen’s wet curls, massaging it in, making a damn fine mess of it too. Cullen laughed when suds ran down his face, eyes closed to prevent stinging.

‘This is not one of your many talents,’ he pointed out.

Dorian huffed indignantly. ‘Not my fault you’re taller than me.’

‘By an inch.’

‘Stay still, I’m getting the hang of it now.’ He ran his foam covered hands down Cullen’s neck, the smell of vanilla milk and papaya blending with the steam. He rubbed it all over, covered Cullen in thick, rich suds and everywhere he touched, he pressed his fingers in just a little bit harder than necessary. A makeshift massage that lingered on the places where Dorian knew Cullen’s shoulders ached sometimes, on the pressure point at the back of his neck, stopping shy of anything below the belt because Dorian’s self-control had _limits,_ it really did.

‘Rinse off,’ he said, moving Cullen directly beneath the spray, but before the soapy lather had a chance to drizzle away, Cullen reached for Dorian, eyes still closed and yanked him under the hot, pressurised downpour too.

It was a _hug_ , Dorian realised. A very soapy, very wet hug. Cullen’s arms went all the way around Dorian, pressing them together as the suds from his hair ran down Dorian’s cheek and into his mouth.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I love you so much.’

‘Love you too,’ Dorian replied without hesitation, trying to ignore the nasty taste of lovely smelling shampoo on his tongue. ‘Everything will be great and if it’s not, I’ll still be here.’

He said it because that was something he himself would have wanted to hear, were their positions reversed.

Cullen held him tighter beneath the water and only when he exhaled, slow and deliberate, did he let go.

*

Dorian was barely dressed, though at least _dry_ when a knock came at the door. He opened it, yanking a t-shirt over his head, expecting to see Leliana or Fenris, but it wasn’t and in retrospect, he should have _known_ because neither would need to knock.

Madeline stood there, one hand on her hips, gaze locking onto Dorian like the talons of a bird of fucking prey, red lips curving into cruel amusement.

‘Ah,’ she purred, giving him a slow _up and down_. ‘Of course.’

At her side, was a little girl, bouncing up and down with palpable excitement.

‘Cullen here?’ Madeline asked, her sweet tone in sour contrast with her expression.

Dorian didn’t think he’d ever stood back from a door so quickly in his life. ‘Yeah,’ he said, opening it wide to allow Sophia to pelt inside, running the way kids tended to that looked as if they’d never been shown how to slow down. Cullen emerged quickly from the bathroom, thankfully _dressed_ and he dropped to his knees, arms wide to greet his daughter.

‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ she squealed, flinging her arms around him as they collided. ‘Daddy, you’re _here_!’

Dorian looked away because Madeline was also coming inside and so was the _other guy_ , eyes darting nervously around.

‘Oh, baby girl look at you!’ Cullen was saying, voice thick as Dorian closed the door. ‘You’re so tall, so beautiful! I missed you _so_ _much_!’

‘I missed you too! How much did you miss me?’

‘ _Universe_ much!’

Sophia laughed and Madeline went right for the mini-fridge while the dude with light brown hair shoved his hands in his pockets, shooting Dorian an apologetic kind of _‘Hey, how’s it going?’_ look.

Madeline emerged with a bottle of cola, cracking the lid off despite her long nails.

‘Soph,’ Madeline said. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No thank you,’ the little girl replied as Cullen stood, lifting her easily, the pair still wrapped around one another. To say that Dorian felt awkward might have been the understatement of the century. Madeline sat on the bed and gestured what Dorian assumed was her _boyfriend_ over.

Cullen spun Sophia around. She wore pink dungarees and a cute pair of dinky girls Timberland boots, her hair in bunches, the exact same shade as her mother’s.

‘We thought we’d swing by,’ Madeline said, sounding perfectly reasonable. ‘Soph was so excited to see you, weren’t you, darling?’

‘Daddy, I wanna go on the rides soon!’ Sophia said when Cullen stopped spinning her, though he had yet to set her down.

‘Of course, baby, whatever you want,’ he said, kissing her cheek multiple times.

Finally, the thing Dorian had been dreading happened. Cullen turned his attention, at least partially, to Madeline.

‘Hi,’ he said, slightly breathless. Dorian saw the control, saw the effort behind that one word.

‘Hi yourself,’ she said, gesturing towards the light haired man who’s get-up might have made Alistair seem stately. He wore a pair of Khaki shorts with sandals _and_ socks, combined with baggy green t-shirt. ‘This is my boyfriend, Jassen.’

Cullen nodded politely, Sophia on his hip, her arms around his neck. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Jassen nodded more than was called for. ‘L-lovely to meet you too,’ he said and Dorian couldn’t help but feel for him a bit, being used as a pawn in such a way. ‘Sorry for uh, for barging in.’

Cullen shook his head, gaze moving to Madeline. ‘No, don’t worry. It’s great to see everyone.’

Madeline smiled and settled back on the bed like it was hers.

‘Who’s _your_ friend, Cullen?’ she asked, voice high and saccharine.

‘I’m Dorian,’ he answered before Cullen had to introduce him. He was pleased it came out strong.

‘Ah, nice to put a name to the _face,_ _’_ she chuckled, gaze dropping down purposefully to Dorian’s middle. ‘He’s gorgeous, Cullen. Bravo.’

‘Have you had lunch, sweetie?’ Cullen asked Sophia, ignoring Madeline altogether.

Sophia shook her head. ‘I wanna go on all the rides first!’

‘We’re going to go on _all_ the rides, I promise, lots of times, but you need lunch, baby.’ Cullen redirected his focus to Madeline. ‘What are your plans?’

Madeline sipped her coke, shrugging. ‘You can take her. I just want to have a chat first.’

Something cold and heavy slid down into Dorian’s stomach like a stone. If Cullen felt anything similar, he didn’t show it. Kissed Sophia’s cheek again and smiled so flawlessly that it broke Dorian’s heart.

‘Awesome,’ he said. ‘Do you want to watch TV in the other room, baby girl, so I can talk with Mummy?’

‘No, Jassen can take her back to our suite for now.’

Dorian closed his eyes briefly, wondering if he maybe despised her more than his own ex. It was a power move, a spiteful display of precisely who _owned_ Sophia and Cullen had no say in who took his daughter away, in whose care she was left.

Jassen had the good graces to seem flustered. ‘Maddy,’ he said under his breath. ‘I can sit with her next door if you—’

‘Take her to the suite,’ she repeated, a sharper edge to it that time, dark eyes flaring. ‘We’ll be down in a minute.’

‘Mummy, I want to stay with Daddy,’ Sophia said, bottom lip wobbling slightly. ‘Please, I don’t wanna go with Jay.’

The second knock at the door hit Dorian like someone restarting his heart, the _relief_ it gave him, because he knew exactly who it was that time.

He opened it quickly, noting the _use_ of the knock, even though it was not required because they all had keycards to the suite. Fenris nodded at Dorian, hand resting on his shoulder for a second. Lee was nowhere to be seen, but Fenris wasted no time before sweeping inside.

‘Uncle Fen!’ Sophia yelled excitedly, waving her arms and grinning. She reached for him and Cullen passed her over, the pair hugging.

‘Oh, little miss, look at you!’ Fenris said, smiling widely. ‘So tall now, soon you’ll be taller than me!’

‘Uncle Fen, where’s Auntie Lee?’

‘She’s waiting for you downstairs, darling.’

His green gaze moved onto Madeline and _oh_. Dorian had never seen Fenris look at anyone like that before, even though he was still smiling, still happy and at ease while holding Sophia. It was like seeing something _flash_ inside him, something brief and wholly murderous.

‘Short stack,’ Madeline greeted, tone suggesting she was less than impressed.

‘Hawke.’

Dorian frowned and looked between the two, wondering if it was perhaps a very apt _nickname_ , but Madeline laughed and said, ‘He thinks we’re mortal enemies, always calls me by my last name. Like we’re _Potter_ and _Malfoy_ or something.’

Jassen brightened. ‘I love Harry Potter!’

The second he spoke, Fenris looked at him, performed a quick _scan_ , but his attention returned quickly to Madeline, clearly deeming her to be the larger threat.

‘I’ll take Sophia for lunch, shall I?’ he said levelling Madeline with a look and never once blinking.

Madeline’s smile was _chilly_ to say the least. ‘If she wants pancakes, remember she’s—’

‘Allergic to strawberries,’ Fenris cut over her, already turning. ‘I know.’ He looked at Cullen, gaze softening. ‘See you down there.’

As he walked past Dorian, Fenris muttered, ‘Don’t leave him.’

The door clicked shut and Madeline slid off the bed, bottle in one hand, delicate sneer of distaste about her sharp features.

‘Still dragging him along with you everywhere?’ she scoffed, reaching inside her handbag. ‘Pathetic. So, tell me about your _boyfriend._ He’s an upgrade from the last one, that’s for sure.’

In other circumstances, Dorian would have wanted to flee, would have been clocking the door and counting down the seconds until he could leave the parents to it because this, he knew, was a messy thing.

Only he couldn’t have left in a million years and Fenris’s plea was completely unnecessary.

‘I could say the same about you,’ Cullen said flatly.

Madeline looked up from her bag and grinned. ‘Oh, given you a bit of _backbone_ , has he? Well, whatever keeps the money coming in as it should.’

‘I could… leave?’ Jassen offered uncertainly.

‘No,’ Madeline said and Jassen nodded like a scolded dog. ‘You’re as much a part of this as _Dorian_ here.’ She found whatever it was she’d been looking for in her Prada handbag, folded sheets of paper which she handed over to Cullen. ‘Expenses I expect to be compensated for.’

Cullen took them and Jassen sat down in a nearby chair, pulling out his phone and using it to effectively _hide_.

Dorian did no such thing. He wasn’t about to leave Cullen’s side, leave him with this _bitch_.

‘You can’t tell people you’re my wife.’

Madeline popped a couple of pills and smirked. ‘Why not?’

‘Because we were never married.’

‘Living together as long as we did, that’s common law marriage.’

‘That’s not real, Madeline and even if it _were_ , we’re not together anymore.’

‘You’re the one who wanted Sophia to be in your life more,’ she shrugged, swigging down three pills with a mouthful of cola. ‘I’m just being helpful.’

Dorian could tell that Cullen considered his next words carefully. ‘It’s not good for anyone, saying that, not to mention what would happen if the press—’

‘The press? I think they’ll be more concerned with your new squeeze, to be honest,’ she said, looking at Dorian as if he were an especially well upholstered chair she was considering buying. ‘I mean, he’s so _exotic_ , isn’t he?’ Madeline laughed to herself, sitting back on the bed and sighing with evident enjoyment. ‘They’ll have a field day with that to begin with and that’s _without_ the uproar it’ll cause when they realise who exactly your pretty boyfriend _is._ _’_

Ah, _there_ it was.

It was the closest Cullen had come to raising his voice to her. ‘ _Don’t_.’

‘What? Like it’s not obvious? I mean, Jassen pointed it out to me, but,’ she snorted. ‘He’s pretty memorable, isn’t he?’

Dorian looked around, distantly impressed he wasn’t having an out of body experience. Something like this, it should have had his ears ringing, sweat blossoming, sickness unfurling, but instead, he just felt… grounded, _anchored_. His pain wasn’t _there_. He was shaking, absolutely, but it wasn’t out of _fear_.

All he could feel was Cullen, _his_ Cullen. That was all he cared about, all he wanted to protect.

He lifted one hand and smiled, shaking his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said, quite pleasantly. ‘Sorry, but I think we’re off to a bad start here. You seem to be under the impression that I’m going to let you speak to my boyfriend like that in front of me.’

Delicate dark eyebrows lifted. ‘Boyfriend?’

‘Yeah, _boyfriend._ Just like your Yessan over here.’

‘ _Ja_ ssen,’ the new addition corrected with a small wave.

‘Right, sorry,’ Dorian said, not letting it slow his roll. He took a couple of purposefully paced steps towards the bed where she sat. ‘Now, I know your kind, OK? You can probably tell from the video that I too had a piece of shit ex partner who did everything they could to break me down into dust because dust is easier to steamroll. And I get it. You’ve got leverage. Cullen’s the best kind of guy and he’s not one to get in the gutter because there’s a child involved and he wants the best for her.’ Dorian stopped a few feet away, keeping his smile in place, cold enough to freeze fucking water, or so he hoped.

‘But you will?’ she asked, assessing him.

‘Will I fight for Cullen? Too fucking right I will. Now,’ he added when she took a breath to speak. ‘Before you think to yourself, _I know what I’ll do. I’ll take Sophia away, I’ll pull the rug out from under everyone. I’ll hurt him. I’ll hurt them all._ _Before_ you even think of doing something like that, just know this. I’ve survived worse than you. Cullen’s survived all the shit you put him through. Jassen, I don’t know you mate, but I promise you can do better. You’re not the only one with leverage, Madeline. You’re not the only one who knows how to be underhand.’

Something glinted in her eyes. ‘Is that a threat?’

‘It’s a promise. This is where your _situation_ peaks. There is no _better_ than this. I’d think very carefully before you go pushing at the foundations of a set-up where _you_ _’re_ the primary beneficiary.’

‘I _could_ take Sophia away. Make it so he never sees her again.’

‘And you’ll never get any money ever again,’ Dorian said with an _oh dear_ kind of grimace. ‘Something tells me you’d be less than comfortable with _that_ , not to mention how it would make _you_ come across should you ever think about venturing near a tabloid with your _story._ You’re the one who took money, who leveraged her daughter for cash sums. Was it a scam or are you really that much of a _bitch_? I dunno, the papers will have fun figuring it out, that’s for sure.’

Despite everything, she held herself together well. ‘It’ll ruin him professionally.’

‘What will? That he gave into your demands or that he was in a relationship with someone as unstable as you? I don’t really think people care _that_ much about the reputation of the guy who promotes them in the first place, but this would hardly be a dead-drop, would it?’

Jassen looked up slowly from his phone, gaze on Dorian then but Dorian had no intention of looking away from the woman who held his stare, eyes narrow and speculative, mouth in a thin, sharp line.

‘So,’ Dorian finished emphatically. ‘Let’s play nice, all right? Yeah, I’m the guy who got his heart broken but I’m _hardly_ the first and you know what else? Down here at the bottom, there’s not really much to _lose_. Your days of treating Cullen like _shit_ just came to an end. You can mourn the loss of it later. Go to a spa, drink your bodyweight in prosecco and then realise that actually, you’ve got it pretty fucking great as is and that getting on with your life is the best way to go from now on.’

He took a slow, controlled breath and finally allowed himself to blink, looking away. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t saying anything but beneath her cool exterior, Dorian could sense a maelstrom of rage.

And very suddenly all his own righteous anger dissipated, leaving behind a very cold, sickly feeling of _terror_ that somehow, he’d made it worse for Cullen, for everyone, for _Sophia_.

Dorian went to Cullen’s side, not letting Madeline see the fear now that it was seeping in, but fucking _damn_ it, he was not being used as a means to hurt Cullen, there was no way. Better to make that clear now.

‘Well,’ she said slowly, controlled and dispassionate. ‘That was quite stirring. You two must be _very_ much in love to warrant such a scene.’

Dorian scooped up his phone, checking messages as if he had far better things going on than Madeline fucking Hawke. As if his insides weren’t a writhing ball of snakes, as if he didn’t feel like he was ten seconds from puking his guts up, empathy of Cullen’s suffering making it feel all too real.

‘He’s right and you know it,’ Cullen said flatly and Dorian was _proud_. ‘This situation is tailored to you Madeline. Pushing to see how far you can go will only result in it collapsing.’

Dorian stared at the messages from his friends, all capitals with far too many exclamation marks and truly unflattering selfies of them at the Ebbsfleet International station, eyes crossed, tongues out. He heard Madeline scoff with dry amusement. 

‘If you’d had this much spine when we were together,’ she said quietly, viciously. ‘Maybe Sophia _would_ be yours. But sure, I’ll play along. Not like I need to do anything to let this blow up anyway. C’mon, Jay.’

Madeline scooped up her bag and she seemed almost unaffected, save for the slight flush at the edges of her cheeks, the way her jaw worked. Dorian was pleased he’d got to her, though it likely wasn’t anywhere near as much as she’d gotten to him.

‘We’ll be back tomorrow,’ Madeline said, tossing her hair, gaze dead and cold. ‘She can stay with you.’

‘Where are you—?’

‘Hotel in the city,’ she said. ‘Might be two days, who knows? Anyway, why do you care? You’ve got what you wanted. Call me if there’s a problem.’

Handbag over her shoulder she swept past and Jassen jumped up, hurrying along with her. In his haste, he knocked into Dorian and their phones went flying, landing on the plush carpet. 

‘Sorry, sorry! he said, reaching for Dorian’s and his own with one hand. ‘Sorry, I’m such a—’

Dorian, who’d bent low to grab his at the same time, ended up bumping heads with the poor guy. ‘Ow, sorry!’

Jassen laughed, rubbing his head, both phones in his left hand. He grimaced slightly and Dorian really did feel bad for him. ‘No worries, my fault. Here.’

Dorian took his phone from the top of Jassen’s, no screen damage beyond the scratches already there.

‘Thanks.’

Jassen shot him another apologetic look. ‘See you,’ he said and meekly followed Madeline out.

When the door shut, Dorian bent double, exhaling swiftly. ‘Fucking hell in a _handcart_ that woman is terrifying!’

A strong hand rubbed over his back. ‘Thank you,’ Cullen said in a low voice. ‘Dorian, thank you so much. I could… never say those things to her and I… fuck, thank you.’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Dorian said, pushing to stand, dizzy from the headrush. ‘To say all that, I don’t want to make things worse for you.’

He was swiftly drawn into the other man’s arms, one hand around the back of his neck, the other at the base of his spine.

‘No, you said everything I wanted to say but never could.’

Dorian tried to smile, briefly rolling his face against Cullen’s shoulders, revelling in the scent of him. ‘I love you.’

‘I could tell.’

That made Dorian smile, at least.

‘So, shall we go have lunch with Sophia?’

‘Yes,’ Cullen said, kissing him once before moving away in search of shoes. ‘I want to introduce you to her properly.’

‘She is an absolute darling,’ Dorian grinned, putting his phone on charge and mentally calculating the three or so hours he had before Sera and Lana arrived.

‘Isn’t she? My little princess.’ Cullen sighed adoringly and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on a boot. 

‘That boyfriend seems OK.’

Cullen shrugged. ‘I guess.’

Dorian opened the door. ‘You didn’t like him?’

‘Hmm. I don’t like that he told her who you were, from… y’know.’

They left the hotel room together, Dorian’s arm about Cullen’s waist as the door clicked softly, securely shut.

‘If that’s his only crime, he can’t be that bad,’ Dorian argued mildly. ‘Now, let’s go make an obscene fuss of your daughter, shall we?’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I cannot fully express my love and gratitude to everyone for reading and commenting on this, honestly, I'm so genuinely touched and grateful to each one of you, thank you so much. 
> 
> This felt like a nothing chapter, maybe it was a little too short? I don't know, I hope it was good even though you're probably cursing my name right now lol. There will be little throw backs to other moments on the island together, a few flashes here and there of how they spent their times together, one night in particular, but for now, we're in Disneyland, people and it's about to get a little bit chaotic!
> 
> Also I can't remember if I prattled on last time about my grand schemes for NaNoWriMo in November and how I did intend this to be finished then, but I sat down today and wrote out a very brief list of Things That Are Going To Happen and it looks unlikely, even with 20k a week, that this will be finished by November. I'm really just musing aloud here, half delirious with fatigue and cheerfully resigned to the fact that this will probably spill over into 300k territory. There's SO MUCH coming, you guys. More than you may think! *squee*
> 
> Anyway, if you love me and want to brighten my days, feel free to drop me a comment! As ever, thank you for reading and sticking with me. 💜💜💜


	21. No Sweeping Exit Or Offstage Lines Could Me Feel Bitter Or Treat You Unkind (Wild Horses Couldn't Drag Me Away)

Disneyland, Dorian decided, was tacky as fuck and he really couldn’t help but enjoy it, at least the _park_ part of it. He’d made peace early on, as they headed down to the dining room, that he was going to be assuaged by gigantic stuffed costumes of Micky, Minnie and Pluto. He’d come to terms with the sheer never-ending _happiness_ in the air, the pervasive kind. The whole place reminded him somehow of Alistair and he sighed as they opened a pair of gilded double doors, surprised to find that he missed him already.

Sophia was with Fenris, the pair sat at a table in a moderately busy dining room, people bustling around. Fenris was making Sophia laugh, his expression indignant and so vivid. Fenris was the kind of man who rarely _expressed_ himself to such an extent, features arranged more like a light pencil sketch of whatever emotion he was experiencing.

With Sophia, it was more like felt tip pens. Over-exaggerated, vivid, holding back nothing.

Dorian couldn’t make out what they were saying, but when Fenris looked over, Sophia followed his gaze and her eyes went round, grinning wider.

 _‘Daddy_!’

She slid off the chair and came running over. Cullen bent and caught her expertly, greeting her with kisses and hugs, rubbing her back.

‘There you are! We were looking all over for you!’

‘No you weren’t, you were talking with Mummy. Was she mean again? _Auntie Lee!_ _’_

Cullen didn’t have a chance to answer Sophia’s question because Lee was approaching, coming to join them as she hung up her phone in a clipped manner, face relaxing into a beautiful, wholly adoring smile.

Sophia reached with one arm for Lee, fingers grabbing while the other remained firmly around Cullen’s neck as she dragged the pair into a hug.

‘Hello, my darling,’ Lee greeted, burying her face in her little cheek, planting a kiss. It was a sight that rendered Dorian fairly stunned, not for lack of belief that Leliana was a person of deep feeling, but simply because they were just standing there in a bustling room, _hugging_ with a small child between them. Leliana hugged Cullen as much as Sophia, their arms wrapped about each other for the duration. When they parted, Leliana swiped her eyes, taking Sophia’s hand in her own and kissing that too.

‘We’re having lunch?’ she asked the little girl. ‘Excellent. Let’s see how much we can order before the table collapses.’

Dorian hung back a little as they wandered over to the table, feeling a bit awkward, like maybe he should have given them this time to catch up or something. Cullen put Sophia on her chair and looked back. He frowned inquisitively to see Dorian so far away (all of four feet) and indicated that he join them.

 _Level the fuck up, Pavus_ , Dorian told himself and made one foot follow the other. Awkward for him was fine, just so long as it wasn’t awkward for anyone else.

When Dorian sat down, Cullen said, ‘Sophia, this is Dorian.’

A pair of dark brown eyes latched onto Dorian swiftly and oh, he could tell she was a clever little thing, even if she _hadn_ _’t_ said what she did next.

‘You’re my Daddy’s boyfriend.’

Dorian laughed, couldn’t help himself. ‘Um, yes, I am. It’s very nice to meet you.’

‘My Mummy doesn’t like you,’ Sophia told him, as if pointing out that the sky was blue. ‘But she doesn’t like lots of people so it’s OK. Daddy, do you like Dory?’

Fenris laughed, made zero attempt to bite it down and Leliana’s shoulders shook as she snorted.

‘Yes, princess, I do.’

Sophia beamed. ‘Is he family like Auntie Lee and Uncle Fen?’

Cullen inclined his head as Fenris looked through the menu and Leliana silenced her buzzing phone.

‘Not quite,’ Cullen explained patiently.

‘Because of kissies?’

‘Yeah, in some ways.’

‘OK,’ Sophia said with a decisive nod. ‘Hi Dory.’

‘Hi, Sophia.’

‘Daddy, can I have ice cream?’

‘After lunch.’

‘No, _for_ lunch.’

‘You can’t have ice cream for lunch.’

‘Mummy lets me.’

‘Hmm. Let’s see what else is on the menu. We’re all going to get different things and you can choose whatever you like, how’s that?’

Dorian browsed the menu when it was passed to him, Sophia’s chatter filling the air as all three adults joined in here and there. As he looked, the prices for each dish were right there in euros and for the first time, Dorian felt a nasty sting of guilt. For some reason Cullen sat there with his child in a proper restaurant made Dorian feel suddenly like a complete and utter ponce. Like he was a child himself, relying on Cullen to always pay for things, to just take care of stuff.

And it was definitely a bit childish when he chose the cheapest thing on the menu, but it made him feel slightly better.

Dorian didn’t expect to be so included in the conversations, but whenever he drifted to the outskirts of the chatter, Sophia would yank him right back in. She was inquisitive, almost alarmingly so.

‘What food has Dory got?’

‘Does Dory know I can write my name?’

‘Where does Dory live?’

‘Does Dory know all your songs, Daddy? Can he sing too?’

‘Dory, do you want some of my chips? You’ve only got yucky _leaves_.’

‘What’s your favourite colour, Dory?’

‘Who’s your favourite Paw Patrol dog?’

‘Can you punch like Uncle Fen?’

He answered each best he could, noticing that after a while she no longer asked him questions _through_ Cullen, but aiming her queries towards him directly. Cullen, who remained attentive to Dorian and never once made him feel like an interloper, seemed very pleased when she started just _talking_ with Dorian, the pair engaging in a very serious conversation about which was better, _The Little Mermaid_ or _Beauty and the Beast_.

Dorian finished his salad (fucking _salad_ ) and watched as Sophia excitedly chose which ice cream she wanted after picking at the array of food the others ordered. Dorian vaguely knew he could _also_ have helped himself to the food on the table, that it was meant to be shared but there remained something inside, something tightly strung that insisted he should leave it, should only eat what he would have been able to afford.

Being hungry made him sad, always had. He wasn’t sure _why_ he was doing it, maybe in response to the whirlwind shift in the status quo. Maybe just seeing forty five fucking euros for a _burger and chips_.

‘Did you try these?’ Fenris asked him, so very casually, pushing a plate of barely touched chips towards Dorian. ‘They’re very good.’

Dorian stomach growled irritably but he only shrugged. Fenris kind of _sighed_ , but not from impatience. He looked away, giving Dorian his space such as it was, but Dorian could tell that Fenris at least had some idea of what he was doing.

When the waitress came to clear the table and take a dessert order, Cullen looked at Dorian, at his sad excuse for a salad and frowned.

‘You want anything else?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m good,’ Dorian said, the tightness pulling deeper. He was _anxious_ , he realised. He hadn’t felt it for weeks, maybe not since he’d met Cullen. ‘Thanks.’

Cullen nodded, but he watched Dorian for a moment longer than was strictly necessary. ‘OK.’

‘Dory, what ice cream are you getting?’

‘Uh, I’m not hungry, thank you,’ he told her with a smile.

‘But it’s _ice cream_! You need ice cream before we go on all the rides!’

‘Dorian can share mine,’ Fenris assured her. ‘We’ll get a big one.’

Which was how Dorian came to share a ridiculously huge chocolate fudge sundae with Fenris, two spoons and everything.

Leliana was far too amused and she definitely took a picture at some point. Dorian didn’t mind. Pictures had been taken often over the last few weeks, mostly by Josie, but Dorian had taken enough of his own to not mind. They were all there, in his Gallery. Sometimes huddling close as Dorian extended his arm for a group selfie, sometimes moments from a distance.

Others just of Cullen, very few of them both. Phone above them in bed, Cullen laughing and hiding his face in Dorian’s neck, refusing to say the ridiculous things Dorian came up with in place of _cheese_. Those were his favourite.

‘Is it nice, Dory?’ Sophia asked, chocolate ice cream all around her mouth as she dug in with a long spoon.

‘Very,’ he assured her, not wanting to detract from anything, but also not able to swallow down more than a mouthful of the delicious, sugary goop.

After they were done, no cheque to pay because it was all charged to the room, Dorian wiped his mouth and got up.

Sophia was bouncing up and down. ‘Are we goin’ on the rides now?’

‘Yes, baby, we just need to change your top and clean you up a bit,’ Cullen chuckled. ‘Let’s go back to your room, shall we? Very quickly, I promise.’

‘Yeah, I’m just going to the loo,’ Dorian said, gesturing in the opposite direction.

‘OK,’ Cullen said, but his concern was palpable now. ‘You want to meet us outside, or—’

‘I need to go too,’ Fenris said swiftly. ‘We’ll see you out front.’

Before Dorian could argue, they were parting, Cullen off with Sophia and Lee. Fenris led him to the bathroom nearby in silence.

Once inside the large spacious place, Dorian locked the door, used only by cleaners and staff, and then turned to Dorian.

‘What’s happening?’

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. He should have known.

‘Nothing, I’m fine.’

Fenris didn’t get angry, didn’t insist to know. His concern was soft, everything about him very _open_. ‘You can tell me.’

Dorian went to the basin and ran the taps, terrible habit he’d picked up years ago but the noise was soothing, always had been.

‘I’m just not hungry, it’s _fine,_ _’_ he tried to laugh, but it got stuck.

Fenris leaned against the locked door.

The taps were the kind that stopped after ten seconds or so and Dorian didn’t _want_ to make himself seem like a complete psycho but he needed the noise, he needed it so he could feel…

Fuck.

So he could feel safe.

‘Are you having a panic attack?’ Fenris asked quietly.

Dorian closed his eyes, hand pressed down hard on the tap to keep it running. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Is it Cullen, him having a kid?’

‘No. I knew he had a daughter.’

‘Knowing and seeing are different things.’

‘It’s not that, she’s adorable and I really like her.’

Fenris waited.

‘It was the… the menu prices.’

‘Disneyland is expensive.’

‘I just— _fuck_. I make no money,’ Dorian said, back teeth grinding together. ‘I haven’t touched my bank card since I left the country. The three of you, you have all this money and I just feel like a child. Like I’m taking advantage of it.’ He pressed way harder than necessary down on the tap, pain blossoming hotly through his palm. ‘And it’s not like I can pull my weight, like I can _earn_ my place here the way you and Leliana do. I’m just here, like a guest.’

‘Does Cullen make you feel like a guest?’

‘No.’

‘Do you feel displaced? He can push people away when he’s stressed.’

‘I—maybe a little.’

‘Seeing Madeline probably wasn’t easy.’

‘She was vile, yes, but it’s not only that. Cullen has this whole life I’m not a part of, his work and everything but there’s _this_ too. His past. He has this _whole_ past I know hardly anything about.’

‘You could ask him.’

Dorian screwed his eyes tighter, the hot tap turning the metal scalding beneath his hand. ‘I could,’ he chuckled humourlessly. ‘But that might actually make sense.’

Lightly, Fenris took his hand from the tap. Dorian flinched at the contact, to find Fenris suddenly so close but the shorter man wasn’t looking at him. Instead he pressed the knob down and twisted it three times counter clockwise, the tap now staying on.

Then he moved back, giving him much needed space. His palm stung, his heart was throbbing dully and he felt overly sensitive, though none of that was anything compared to the vibrating mortification running through him then. He wiped his eyes, smoothed the wetness away, trembling breath rattling through him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, habits coming into play once more.

‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about,’ Fenris told him. From the outside, someone knocked and Fenris lazily told him they were cleaning.

‘What if something happens?’ Dorian asked, brow creasing, looking at the door. Fenris understood what he meant without needing clarification.

He indicated to his ear. ‘I have a direct line with a private security team whose sole job is to keep Cullen and Sophia in their sights, always. We’re OK for a minute or so.’

Dorian took another breath, deeper than time. ‘I didn’t mean to make this about me.’

‘Dorian,’ Fenris said gently. ‘It’s _allowed_ to be about you.’

‘He’s here with his daughter and I’m—’

‘We all have issues. You, Cullen, Lee, even myself from time to time. Food is one of them. When I get low, I find it hard to eat. I feel like, hm,’ Fenris paused, looking to the side and when he spoke again, it was quiet. ‘Like I need to punish myself by not eating. If I feel that way,’ he added slowly, still so quiet it could barely be heard over the gentle rush of tap water. ‘I’ll usually go be with Cullen. Just sit with him or talk a little bit. Maybe if I feel like that, I could come be with you sometimes.’

Dorian swallowed down a hot, sick feeling because not eating to punish himself, that was most definitely familiar. ‘OK.’

‘If that’s something you feel comfortable with.’

He nodded jerkily and tried not to hate himself _too_ much. Tried to keep in mind that progress was progress, no matter the fact that just then, it felt like all his progress was born of isolation from the real world.

‘I don’t like it here,’ he said after a moment, trying to laugh but it didn’t work.

‘It’s Disneyland,’ Fenris said with a small shrug. ‘We’re not meant to like it. Do you want a bit more time?’

‘I… no, I’m fine. I’m fine.’

‘It’s good to ask for things when you need it.’

Dorian crammed down the small part of him that _would_ have liked more time and told himself to get the fuck over it. This was something he’d have to adjust to. Life in the fast lane, life with the three of them, with Cullen and his daughter. With a burger and chips costing more than it would to top up his electricity for the week. With Madeline’s _attention_ and the ever looming cloud in the distance that was _Coachella_.

It had been so much easier on the island. In Cullen’s bedroom.

He took a strong, steady breath and forced his mind into equilibrium.

‘I’m good,’ he said, nodding. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what happened.’

Fenris seemed to understand what he was doing and though perhaps not approving of it, he said nothing negative.

‘All right. Ready to hit the rides?’

*

Dorian wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected Leliana to go with them, maybe because she seemed happiest with pacing in a luxury hotel room, phone between her neck and shoulder as she signed contracts, ordered people about and chose what killer outfits to wear that day. Waltzing around _Disneyland_ with a four year old just hadn’t seemed her style.

Except Dorian was very wrong.

Sophia had changed clothes, but so had Lee. The power suits were _gone_. Shoulder pads _gone_. Dorian genuinely didn’t recognise her when he and Fenris met them in front of the hotel.

She’d opted for a plain white t-shirt that was tied at the front, high waisted light blue jeans that rode a good few inches above her bare ankles and a pair of worn, but well cared for Sketchers. Her face was free of makeup save for a bit of mascara. She looked… strangely ordinary, yet no less beautiful.

And Cullen had done something vaguely similar. Somehow made himself less visible. It was sunny enough to justify the use of sunglasses, puddles from the earlier rainstorm kicking up spectacular glare. No expensive jeans, no eight hundred pound shirt. Dorian couldn’t help but smile a bit, oddly endeared by their attempts to look like _normal_ people. It reminded him of the airport when they’d first set out together.

‘There you are!’ Cullen greeted brightly, taking Dorian’s hand and gently pulling him in for a brief _hello_ kiss. It set Dorian instantly at ease, all his _worry_ about how to interact with Cullen in front of his daughter melting away. He felt stupid about earlier, like a fucking moron. Who got upset about having people pay for shit? Christ, was it really so hard to just be grateful and move on? It wasn’t like he didn’t make Cullen happy, like he did nothing in return. It was a simple imbalance, one that needed work, but _no need_ for panic attacks in the bathroom.

Or so he sternly told himself.

‘You look beautiful,’ Fenris casually informed Leliana. She tucked her red hair behind her ear and smiled.

‘Thank you.’

Both she and Cullen were holding hands with a deeply excitable Sophia who was jumping up and down, looking between all four of the adults as if to see who might present an obstacle in her path to the rides.

‘Hi Dory,’ she greeted, beaming as she shrugged loose from Cullen and Lee’s hold. ‘Would you like to go on the rides with me?’

Dorian looked down at the tiny human, Madeline’s dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin and nothing of Cullen in her but his kindness and sweetness, and he smiled.

‘Yes please!’

She took him by the hand and off they went.

*

It was undeniably weird. Dorian’s experience with kids was minimal to say the very least. He didn’t hate kids, but he never had any interaction with them. They were creatures he’d seen from a distance, seen at their worst, usually. Kids tended to be a bit more mental when shopping, when out and about with their parents and more than once, Dorian had shuddered and laughed, quietly congratulating his biology for ensuring he would never be subject to an accidental extra line on a pee-stick from Poundland, the way Lana oft fretted about (though so far her luck had held out).

Cullen’s daughter was a force of nature. Sophia knew her own mind completely. She knew from a single glance which rides she did or didn’t want to go on. She guided Dorian around as if she owned the place, pointing at the characters and asking him if he wanted to go and hug Aladdin. Most of the time Cullen was right there beside them, occasionally holding her other hand and when Dorian looked back, Leliana and Fenris were there too, trailing behind, sometimes talking.

‘This one, this one, _this one_!’ she declared, jumping up and down when they arrived at Thunder Mountain. Dorian looked up at the great plastic monstrosity, heard the screams of enjoyment from people aboard the train as it flew past. ‘We can all go and Dory can hold my hand if he’s scared, right Daddy?’

Sophia had _adopted_ Dorian, he realised as he let himself be pulled towards the ride. The queue didn’t seem that bad until Dorian looked at the small red clock above the start line and saw one hour and forty five minutes.

‘Not that way, sweetie,’ Lee said, guiding them away from the queue and towards an empty entrance that said _FastPass_.

It was still a small wait, around fifteen minutes until they were climbing into the seats after Sophia had _just_ about passed the height check. Dorian and Cullen sat up front with Sophia between them, her legs kicking excitedly as the barrier came down and the train began to crawl away.

‘Uncle Fen, hold Auntie Lee’s hand!’ she called back. ‘So she’s not scared!’

Dorian and Cullen shared a quick look, a small smile and when Dorian looked back, he saw Fenris trying to catch hold of Leliana’s hand, though she refused, rolling her eyes and grinning wryly.

Cullen had his arm around Sophia and Dorian intertwined their fingers together as the carriage steadily cranked up the mountain.

*

Disneyland was fucking _huge_ and Dorian was exhausted after only five rides. The space between them, the sheer amount of walking, the noise, lights and _people_ … it was tough to say the least, but he bore it well. Smile never dimmed and he kept his enthusiasm high, trying to match Sophia’s, though never quite managing.

At some point, she’d gotten bored of Dorian and switched to Fenris and Lee, though she kept looking back to ensure her Dad and his boyfriend were still there. As they walked between rides, stopping sometimes to buy things Sophia wanted or get a drink, Dorian and Cullen talked.

It was nice. They talked about all kinds of things. What kind of baby Sophia had been, of how clever she was, of the games they played when she was tiny and only just crawling. He talked a little bit about Bran, who Rosalie was visiting. He spoke quietly about his younger brother, told Dorian that there was unease between them, that things were difficult and always had been. He hinted that it had to do with Madeline, but never once spoke ill of her, not when her daughter was within earshot. Cullen wore his sunglasses and he held Dorian’s hand while they _chatted_.

And it _was_ nice, but it was shallow, that chatter. Dorian couldn’t help but feel a strange _distance_ between them then. Couldn’t identify it, let alone confidently plan how to combat it.

By five PM, Dorian was ready to collapse into bed and sleep for a _week_. Sophia didn’t seem remotely tired and Dorian, whose feet fucking _hurt_ , didn’t understand how or why children worked.

‘We can go on all the ones we missed tomorrow,’ Cullen promised her. ‘But for now, we’ll get changed and have dinner, how does that sound?’

‘Yay! Dinner, where are we going for dinner?’

‘It’s a special surprise,’ Cullen told her. ‘Auntie Lee will take you upstairs and get you changed, OK, baby?’

Sophia did a little fist pump. ‘Yes! Auntie Lee, will you help me choose a beautiful outfit?’

‘Of course, my darling, let’s go. Meet you in ten,’ she told Cullen and Fenris.

Dorian knew they’d come to a parting point. His friends had arrived, were getting off the shuttle and he knew there was no way he could eat this early, his body now accustomed to eating later.

‘I’m going to check in with security and meet with Vallen,’ Fenris said.

Cullen nodded. ‘OK, thanks. Meet for dinner later?’

‘Of course. Have fun with the princesses.’

‘I thought that was a breakfast thing,’ Dorian said, watching him walk away.

Cullen grinned. ‘He means Lee and Sophia.’

‘Oh, of course. Well.’ Dorian nodded, feeling somehow sad and awkward about the fact he was going to _leave_ Cullen for the first time in weeks. ‘My friends are here.’

‘OK, well, call me, yeah?’

‘What?’

Cullen rubbed his neck, feigning sadness. ‘Y’know, over the next few weeks or whatever. If you get the chance, drop me a text maybe.’

Dorian half rolled his eyes, corner of his mouth quirking. ‘You’re such a doofus.’

‘I know we had a good time together and all,’ Cullen sighed wistfully, ‘But that doesn’t mean—’

Dorian kissed him soundly, mostly to shut him up because even though he was _pretending_ and they were just _playing_ , it still hurt to even imagine a world in which either of them could ever say such a thing.

Strong arms wrapped around Dorian and lifted him up just a tiny bit, shifting the emphasis of the kiss and Dorian melted against him, couldn’t help it.

‘I love you,’ Cullen muttered softly against his lips. ‘And later, I’ll make you dinner because if you think we’re losing that streak for anything less than a grim emergency, you’ve severely underestimated me, Pavus.’

Dorian smiled widely and mussed his hair just for the sake of it. Cullen put him down after a smaller, final kiss and Dorian took a step back because otherwise he was going to do something silly like _not_ leave.

‘Have a lovely time with Sophia.’

‘Have a great time with your friends. Charge whatever you want to the room, obviously.’

Dorian didn’t let that dent the feeling as he walked away, he really did not.

*

Lana took a massive run up as if about to launch a javelin high in the air and then threw herself around Dorian, tiny little thing that she was, howling wildly about missing him and being incomplete without him. Sera took a more laid back approach, waiting until Lana had climbed down off of Dorian to smack him upside the head.

‘Tha’ss for all the days you left us on read and didn’t reply!’ she informed him crossly, then she broke into a huge toothy grin and yanked him into a squishy hug. ‘But you’ve made up for it with frickin’ _Disneyland_!’

‘Where is he?’ Lana asked, looking all around, scanning the busy lobby of a hotel they could never afford, no matter how much they saved.

‘He’s with his daughter,’ Dorian said, picking up their bags. ‘C’mon, let’s go to your room.’

Their room was smaller and for some reason, Dorian felt instantly comfortable there. With them, with his mental best friends. They wasted no time in going around, seeing what was free, seeing what they could take back home. Lana sat on her single bed and unwrapped the free biscuits, happily eating them as she took pictures of the room.

‘This is so fucking _cool!_ ’

Sera peed with the door open and Dorian sat on the other twin bed, sighing.

‘So,’ Sera called out. ‘Tell us everything!’

Dorian laughed. ‘I already did.’

She pulled the flush and Lana got crumbs all over the bed.

‘Yeah, but now you can tell us _in person_!’

Lana nodded fervently. ‘You can re-enact shit!’

*

Dorian was maybe, _possibly_ , just a tiny little bit guilty of re-enacting a few things. In a medium sized room with the pair who’d stuck beside him, thick and thin, he felt _at ease._ He laughed and let it curl into an undignified snort, he insisted they eat everything in the minibar and made an impressive amount of mess doing so. They sat together on a single bed and Dorian told them _everything_.

‘He’s a service top,’ Sera said wistfully. ‘They’re so rare.’

Dorian wrinkled his nose. ‘The fuck is a _service_ top, when it’s at home?’

‘He’s a top but like… it’s all about _you_.’

Lana tipped the last of the Pringles into her mouth, the cascade of crumbs escaping around the edges. ‘So are you, like, a power bottom?’ she asked, retrieving the biggest and juiciest of the remains from the bedspread.

Dorian shrugged, thinking. ‘I’ve never had sex like it.’

Sera grinned wolfishly. ‘Fucking _hot as hell!_ So happy for you, babe. Getting laid, _proper!_ _’_

 _‘_ Tell me again about the singin’ shit,’ Lana pleaded, reaching for another mini bottle of _so very_ ill-advised white wine and drinking it straight from the freshly opened cap, like Madeline had done with her coke. ‘Does he sing while he fucks you? Oh, tell me he does!’

‘He does _not,_ _’_ Dorian chortled. ‘It’s not a film.’

‘Sounds like a film,’ Sera pointed out wisely.

‘If this was a film, I’d be way hotter and this shit would be _way_ less complicated. Too many loose ends to tie up before the one hour forty five mark.’

Sera and Lana exchanged what they no doubt considered to be _subtle_ glances. ‘Hmm, yeah. We did just wanna check something with you, babes,’ Lana said, her Irish accent making everything weirdly musical, though maybe Dorian had had a bit too much wine as well by that point.

He rustled around in a packet for the last few peanuts. ‘Check away.’

‘Yeah, it was just about Cullen being a superstar,’ Lana said in a tumble of words, concern vaguely crumpling the brow she was determined to pump full of Botox one day. ‘That.’

Dorian blinked slow and sat up, munching on peanuts.

‘What now?’

‘Y’know,’ Sera went on, warily. ‘How he’s an international superstar and everything?’

That left Dorian… oddly speechless. He sat up, setting down the pack of peanuts, the price of which he had steadfastly ignored.

The girls were prone to exaggeration, more so than anyone he’d ever known. They were outlandish and wonderfully outrageous, but… they seemed serious, for once. Genuinely concerned.

And Dorian thought of how much Cullen had been performing, of the thing in the pub, of the performance in the tiny little town of Calvi, Corsica. Cullen had never hid the fact that he loved music, that he wanted to sing. He identified as a musician, after all. Went by his passions, not his pay-check.

Was Cullen getting _noticed_ now? Dorian had no idea, not really. Wasn’t on Facebook or Twitter and no one ever contacted him save for these two and Cullen. It was entirely possible that he was getting to be a big thing, that his incredible songs and siren-like voice - soft as velvet when need be, roughened by emotion other times but always a thing of absolute beauty - were gaining momentum. The girls would know, obviously.

Dorian felt a weird pang in his chest. He never _asked_ , never wanted to know about that part of Cullen’s life. Bad enough he spent time promoting other musicians, working in the kind of business that Dorian had come to know reasonably well, for someone on his then low level at least.

But Christ, the idea of Cullen becoming a real live, _actual musician_ _…_

Shit.

Dorian was not fine with that, could _not_ tell himself it was all well and good.

He swallowed slowly, mind going a little bit haywire with all kinds of _visions_. Of Cullen blowing up, of him being on the radio, _performing_ at the big arenas instead of promoting there. Of download sales, of live lounges and bonus tracks, interviews and newspapers.

Of _touring_.

Sera was speaking, He shook himself and looked at her. He felt dizzy, that very specific kind of _nausea_ associated with only one time in his life.

‘Huh?’

Sera took a steadying breath. ‘I said, you OK?’

‘I’m uh—I don’t understand.’

In a low voice, Lana said, ‘Shit.’

Dorian repeated the motion of shaking himself, trying harder that time, bringing himself _back_ to the world where he had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who would never lie to him, never hurt him, never lead him into hell, smiling all the while, the way _another_ had. He thought of Cullen’s smell, tried to root himself in the sense memory of how he felt, of the secret things they’d whispered beneath the covers in Cullen’s room only days ago.

Of the fact that Cullen was someone he _loved_.

That Cullen loved him in return.

‘Sorry,’ he said, cracking a smile, eyes widening slightly. ‘Sorry, completely drifted off there. Of _course,_ I know. And I know it’s going to be difficult, but you don’t have to worry.’

‘So, you _do_ know? Because we keep thinking you do and yet—’

‘I’m handling it too well?’ he laughed, forcing it a little. ‘No, look. It’s no cake walk, obviously and I do need to talk to him about a few elements, money especially, but I promise, it’s fine.’

They were both quiet and then Sera screwed up her face and shook her head.

‘Nah, babe. Listen. Just. Fuck’s sake, I promise this is the last time, OK, but. We just wanna make sure you’re completely aware that Cullen Rutherford is a proper musician.’

‘Like, we saw that live show,’ Lana added helpfully. ‘The one in Prague?’

Dorian tilted his head, remembering the pub, the six or seven people watching. It was kind of _cute_ that they’d been two of them, even though he knew he should have been annoyed they were clearly stalking the man who had, at the time, been only his sexy, painfully perfect _roommate_.

‘Oh, you saw that? I was there.’

They were both watching him very carefully. ‘You were?’

‘Yeah, I stood behind Fenris while Josie, the PR woman, she filmed it. They went mental for it, the people in there.’

‘And you were OK with that?’

‘Well,’ Dorian said, _also_ then recalling the panic attack in the bathroom, Lee sitting on the floor and being stern but kind. Of sushi and Cullen all but admitting it was hard for him to _not_ write songs about Dorian. Of running and dark alleyways and then a hand extending from that darkness to grip and _hurt_. ‘Not exactly. But, it’s different now. I promise, I’m getting better with it.’

‘With him being a superstar?’

Dorian laughed and rolled his eyes, cracking a can of Fanta. ‘Yes, I’m sure I’ll find a way to grin and bear it. To be honest, he keeps that stuff pretty separate from me. It’s the money that’s got me worried.’

Lana seemed uncharacteristically sombre. ‘His money’s an issue then?’

‘I mean, it never is until I realise exactly how much he’s really spending,’ Dorian said quietly. ‘Like how he brought you out here without even thinking about it.’

‘Yeah,’ Sera said. ‘I s’pose that’s tough.’

Dorian had half expected them to tease him for it, do the whole, ‘ _If you don_ _’t want it, send it our way!’_ but neither said anything of the kind. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Lana had once found him on the floor, halfway to a drug-induced death. That they’d both stayed with him in the hospital, even after being told to leave, Sera apparently almost clocking the bloke who’d tried to remove them. Dorian never liked to think about it too much, about waking up _disappointed_ that he was still alive, opening his eyes and just wanting to fucking _cry_ because it meant another day existing in a world where he was everywhere. Songs about him literally _everywhere_.

But that was in the past now. It had been a long time since Dorian had heard one of the songs. While people still _knew_ who he was, probably wasn’t ever going to change, he was better.

He _was_ better.

‘You could impose a limit,’ Sera offered when they fell into an unusually gloomy silence. ‘Like, when you guys go out, or whatever. Y’know, like how we do Christmas.’

Dorian thought of Christmas, of _Cullen_ doing Christmas. Fucking hell, he was going to go mental, wasn’t he? Dorian could tell he was the kind that adored Christmas and Halloween. Probably bought a fuck-ton of fireworks for the 5th of November too.

He tried to imagine giving Cullen a twenty pound limit and wanted to laugh. ‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘So, you’re OK, then?’

They still hadn’t let it go, their concern. It hung heavy in the air, neither yet relaxing back into their mental, chaotic selves.

‘I get why you’re concerned,’ he told them. ‘I do, believe me. A musician broke my heart and you don’t want it to happen again. _But_ ,’ he added, leaning forward, taking a careful breath. ‘I’m happy. I’m really, really happy. I _love_ him. And more important than that, I _trust_ him. I trust him completely.’

They both looked at each other. ‘OK,’ Sera said, seeming to reach a point where they could set down whatever it was they’d been carrying. ‘OK, then.’

Lana also seemed mostly satisfied. ‘We’re so happy for you, honestly. Only twenty percent jealous, I promise.’

Dorian laughed. ‘Well, that’s the perfect ratio. Come on, catch me up on what mental bullshit I’ve missed in the last few weeks.’

*

By the time Cullen knocked on his door, Dorian was genuinely tipsy and so relaxed he probably wasn’t fit for proper company but at the end of the day, it was only his _boyfriend_. His boyfriend who he may or may not have greeted with a snog at the door, hands moving over the firm front of Cullen’s chest, pulling him closer by the shirt to deepen the kiss, to make him _feel_ every inch of it.

It happened out of pure instinct, total lack of usual inhibitions making Dorian’s happiness to see Cullen into something he couldn’t quite control.

And Cullen kissed him _back_ , matched his intensity and pushed at those borders of reasonable public passion. Lips sliding, angling and slanting for perfection, sighing into one another in heavenly fucking fashion. Cullen cupped his face, tilting him ever so slightly _up_ in a way that made Dorian’s toes curl. When Cullen’s tongue brushed against his, Dorian groaned and forgot all about his _two best friends_ behind them, likely making zero effort to be polite and look away.

Dorian didn’t give a fuck about polite. This place was weird and he’d _missed_ Cullen, wanted to chase away the strange feeling of mild dread that had settled in his stomach ever since Madeline and Jassen had left. Cullen showed no concern either, following Dorian’s lead as he stepped that much closer into Dorian’s space, shifting the angle to take the kiss from _Darling I Missed You_ to _Just Fuck Me Against the Wall._

Distant realisation of the power he had over Cullen came calling later than it should. He broke the kiss. 

‘Hi,’ he said, lips parted and _fuck_ , but Cullen was breathless and Dorian just wanted to ruin him, ruin him for anyone else, the way Cullen had.

Light brown eyes flicked behind Dorian for a moment and the smile turned slightly wry. ‘Hi.’

Dorian moved away, dropping his hand from where it felt _branded_ against Cullen’s chest. He cleared his throat.

‘You remember—’

‘Hi Sera, hey Lana.’

Lana grinned and nudged Sera. ‘I got a _hey._ _’_

‘You girls all settled in?’

‘Sure enough,’ Lana purred, belly down on the bed, propped up on elbows, smug smile in place. ‘How about _you_ , Cullen? Settling in nicely with our Dorian?’

Cullen didn’t seem tense or awkward, the way Dorian most definitely would have if their positions were reversed. Cullen was so often _bulletproof_ about things like that. Embarrassment and insecurity had no hold on him, not in public anyway. Dorian envied his facade, but he treasured the fact that he knew the _real_ Cullen, the one who let Dorian see every little feeling as it was born inside him when they were alone. 

He sat on the bed opposite and tucked his knee beneath him. Dorian had the irrational urge to tell him no shoes on the bed but he wasn’t quite that _twee_.

‘I am, thanks. Good trip here?’

‘Yeah, pretty fun,’ Sera said and Dorian sighed because they were like sharks with blood and now that Dorian was _with_ Cullen and they no longer needed to push the pair together, his friends were about to go in for the kill. ‘But more importantly, what is it you love about our Dorian?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he muttered while Cullen shrugged his jacket off, getting _comfortable_.

‘You want a list?’ he asked easily.

‘You _have_ a list?’

‘A mental one, yeah.’

‘Cullen, you really don’t—’

‘Yes, list please.’

‘He’s beautiful, funny, kind, sweet, clever, generous, creative and adorable. He’s thoughtful and he cares about people deeply. He’s a brilliant dresser and he’s just about the most interesting man I’ve ever met.’

It had all come out so _fast_ , so at the ready. Dorian had definitely had a little too much wine, he knew that, but it still knocked him slightly for six. Sera and Lana had listened throughout the whole thing, impressive poker faces considering Dorian had, at one point, seen them subtly nudge one another.

‘Well,’ Lana said, admirably lofty. ‘All right then.’

‘I appreciate how much you care about him,’ Cullen said. ‘You’re his family and you love him. I fully expect to get my arse handed to me if I ever hurt him.’

Sera cracked a half smile. ‘Damn right mate. Six weeks at number one don’t mean shit if you hurt our boy.’

‘Got it. So, who wants dinner? It’s just us. My friends are with my daughter now that she’s asleep.’

It was later than Dorian realised. ‘Did she have a nice dinner?’

Cullen’s smile was _adorable_ and Dorian didn’t even bother trying not to melt. ‘She did. It was lovely catching up with her, just talking to her and listening. God, I missed her so much.’

Lana made a tiny kitten noise, a little, ‘ _awww!_ _’_ which Sera frowned sternly at.

‘Yeah, we’re up for dinner,’ she said. ’’Specially if _you_ _’re_ makin’ it.’

*

When they walked into _The Steakhouse_ in the Disney Village, Dorian already knew what was going to happen. Cullen met with the hostess, shaking hands warmly and not once looking around. Dorian could sort of _feel_ that they were getting looks. Sera and Lana were _dressed up_ which meant yellow tartan leggings, black best and over-sized leather bomber jacket for Sera while Lana had opted for a classic red skirt, Minnie Mouse style fishnets and a massive men’s tee (courtesy of an ex) that she’d cut and tied at the front, faded text barely recognisable, though Dorian knew it had once read, _“I’m Kind of a Big Deal”_ on the front.

They’d made an effort, no denying that, just… Dorian sort of wished they _hadn_ _’t_. But he wasn’t embarrassed, loved them far too much to care about what they wore and, to his deep and private delight, neither did Cullen.

The restaurant wasn’t especially _full_ , given the late hour and the fact that the place was intended for kids, most of whom were asleep but Dorian felt people staring as they walked through, headed for the kitchens. Dorian looked back at the girls and grinned, the pair exchanging confused glances.

‘Amazing to meet you!’ a woman, all dressed in chef’s garb, greeted Cullen, taking his hand in both of hers. ‘Huge fan, loved that _Horizon_ album, just amazing.’

Dorian barely refrained from rolling his eyes. The casual _name drop_ of an album from whichever band or artist Cullen promoted didn’t quite irk him as it once would have.

‘Thanks,’ Cullen said, repaying her enthusiasm with his own brand which Dorian recognised as something _almost_ real, so flawlessly executed that there was no way to tell, except that Dorian loved the absolute bones of him and knew him in ways he hoped no one else ever would. ‘Did the manager explain—?’

‘We’re all set up for you,’ she said proudly, glancing back at her team who also smiled and waved, two of the younger men giving Lana distinctly _interested_ looks. ‘What did you have a mind to cook with us tonight?’

‘Can we see a menu?’

‘Of course!’

Sera took hers when offered, brow furrowed with mistrust. ‘Wait, so we’re picking somethin’ out and then… _making_ it?’

Dorian was only a little bit smug, rolling up the sleeve of his new shirt. ‘Yup.’

Lana posed against the metal countertops and Sera broke into a wide, fiendish grin. ‘Oh, _fuck_ yeah!’

*

No one seemed to mind the mess and that was definitely for the best because while Cullen might have been neat and efficient, years of experience coming into play, Lana and Sera’s culinary expertise extended to a pot noodle and scrambled eggs with a lot of cheese.

Cullen mostly helped them, stepped in when Lana started squealing about the scary meat of the steaks, about how the knives were too sharp. Dorian’s job was similar to last time; he had veggie duty, found it oddly weird to not have to set aside and prepare Josie’s food separately. Sera loved cutting things a little too much, sent meat cuts flying by accident and Cullen laughed, caught what he could while the kitchen staff smiled indulgently.

It was _fun._ Cullen was having fun with Dorian’s friends.

Imagine that.

While they worked, Cullen chatted with the girls. He asked about their lives, what had been happening lately and he laughed so damned easily when they told their stories, that Dorian’s heart couldn’t help but swell, despite the persistent undertow of _something bad_.

Cullen was charming and sweet. He got along with them instantly, laughed that beautiful laugh and made it all seem so easy, so effortless. It wasn’t that Dorian doubted him, it was just admiration for this facet of Cullen, that he was capable of this when Dorian knew how much he preferred being alone with him, staying in, watching TV and snuggling. Padding around to make delicious midnight snacks, hair all messy, wearing his God damned motherfucking knee high socks that Dorian was _obsessed_ with.

There had been a time, back in Corsica, when Dorian had gone out with the girls to the town. Cullen had stayed back with Fenris, the pair citing _work_ _stuff_. Dorian had returned to find them both sitting on the bedroom floor, notebook open on a certain page. Cullen with his _glasses_ on, pair of shorts that were definitely testing the boundaries of decency, those dark pink socks pulled high and his guitar in his lap. Fenris had been sat opposite, the pair going over songs together. Cullen had looked up, smiled brightly and oh, Dorian felt like he’d been hit by a sledgehammer.

Dorian loved all parts of Cullen, all the different little facets that combined to create the man he was completely in love with. Did he wish they could be alone pretty much all the time? Sure. Did this element of Cullen’s personality _ever so slightly_ set him on edge? Maybe. That didn’t mean he loved him any less.

In guided increments, they cooked and they made a gloriously fruitful mess. By the time it was plated, appetites well and truly worked up, the place was half closed, but not for Cullen, not for _them_. They were sat away from the rest of the patrons, a spacious area of clean, unused tables.

‘Enjoy your meal,’ the chef said, hand on Cullen’s shoulder.

Warmly, he replied, ‘Thank you.’

Sera’s burger was three times the size of a regular one, mostly because she’d been able to make it herself and choose what she wanted in it. Dorian had never seen that many _pickles_ in a burger and the three steak patties were covered in cheese, making the burger seem yellow and green; very on brand for Sera.

Lana, bless her, had at one point tried to insist she wanted only a salad but once she started smelling the things that were being cooked, she’d changed her mind. Her oval plate was laden with thick, golden chips, covered with Cullen’s own brand of chili, cheese and sour cream plus a massive basket of onion rings and corn on the cob.

Dorian had gone for swordfish with vegetables ( _his_ vegetables) and the same chips. Cullen was sat opposite, smallest portions of everyone; New York strip steak with Dorian’s veggies, though he _did_ help himself to a few things from the middle, Lana’s onion rings included.

There wasn’t much in the way of wine, but that was good, really. Dorian was happy to sober up a bit, let the food soak up the earlier deluge. He hoped maybe it would soak up the persistent undertow of anxiety with it.

Mouth stuffed, Sera asked, ‘How’s your fish?’

‘Amazing, of course,’ he recovered swiftly. ‘Everything Cullen makes is incredible.’

‘When did you learn to cook?’ Lana asked the blond, dipping three chips into a tiny bowl of ketchup.

Cullen inclined his head while he politely swallowed, Dorian’s gaze only _somewhat_ riveted to the movement of his throat, the way his apple bobbed. ‘When I was younger.’

 _‘Younger_ , pfft. You’re hardly an OAP!’

He smiled. ‘Twenty nine in August.’

Sera’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wait, you’re not a _Leo,_ are you?’

Lana shook her head, eyes rolling in a lofty, patronising manner. ‘Don’t be _silly_. He’s obviously a _Virgo_. Hard-working, kind, loyal. Loves healthy food, ten to one he loves animals too. Stunningly compatible with _Libra_ ,’ she added, winking at Dorian.

Cullen chuckled indulgently. ‘Would it be bad, being a _Leo_ , then? I think I’m what they call, “on the cusp”.’

‘No way! With _Leo?_ _’_ Lana gasped. ‘I’ve never met one before. What’s your rising sign?’

‘OK,’ Dorian stepped in before she started asking to see his bloody palm. ‘Get back to the part where we’re stunningly compatible.’

‘ _Leo-Virgo_ _’s_ are definitely compatible with _Libra_ _’s_ ,’ Lana went on seriously, finally in a vein where she was the uncontested expert. ‘Libra brings balance, helping you to embrace all areas of your life, not only those needed to function. Also,’ she added thoughtfully, nicking Sera’s wineglass. ‘They bring balance the other way, because _Leo-Virgo_ _’s_ never do anything by halves.’

Cullen seemed fascinated while Dorian bit down a smile at the sheer accuracy of _that_. ‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah! I’ve read books - actual _books_ \- about it. Sera’s a _Gemini_ ,’ she added, patting Sera’s arm as if confiding in Cullen that her friend had a terminal illness. ‘But she does what she can. I made her a chart. Not _so_ bad for the next year, but she’s gotta stop cracking onto straight girls. Always leads to heartbreak, right, babe?’

Sera looked miffed, but didn’t argue.

‘What’s your sign?’

Lana grinned. ‘ _Leo_.’

‘Oh, I _see_ ,’ he laughed. ‘Tell me about _Leo’s_.’

‘Well, we’re moody, needy little sluts, Cullen. Prone to outbursts.’ She sighed while Sera nodded in solemn agreement. ‘But we _are_ loyal as fuck!’

Dorian reached for the sauce. ‘Aren’t all the signs loyal, though?’

Sera scoffed. ‘Surely not _Scorpios_?’

Lana, in her element, grinned widely, shoving her best friend. ‘Shows what _you_ know! Scorpio’s are pretty much one of the most powerful signs _and_ one of the most loyal, when embedded in a small, tight knit friendship of course. Capable of great things, depending on which level they’re at.’

Cullen cut into his steak. ‘Level?’

‘Well, all signs have levels. Lowest, middling and highest. The worst, medium and very best version of themselves.’

‘Bloody _hell_ , Lana,’ Sera sighed. ‘I don’t think he wants to know this shit.’

‘No, I do,’ Cullen protested evenly. ‘It’s fascinating! Lee is a Scorpio; tell me more about them so I can whip out interesting facts when she least expects it.’

Which was how the entire night devolved into an Astrology lesson, given by one Ellana Lavellan. Cullen listened raptly and while they went back and forth, Sera and Dorian caught up on what was happening back home.

‘Saw a few people who asked about you,’ she told him, not _quite_ as carefully as she would have once. ‘You know, your boss said he didn’t mean to fire you, reckons he just said you couldn’t work so you should go home. Dickhead apparently expected you back in after two weeks.’

Dorian chuckled. ‘The fuck was I supposed to think when he took one look at me, scowled and told me to get lost?’

‘Yeah, he was always a dick and zero hours is complete and utter wank. They make it up as they go along, I swear.’

‘What else?’

She shrugged, eyes firmly down. ‘Not much, really. Just. Y’know. Saw a few people.’

Dorian nodded. ‘Ah.’

‘Yeah.’ She sighed shortly. ‘Sorry.’

‘Was it…’ he swallowed, trying to frame the question best he could, nasty trickle of nausea twining with the pre-existing thrum of anxiety he simply couldn’t alleviate. ‘Was it him?’

Sera shook her head. ‘The other one.’

Oh, lovely. Almost as bad, though not quite. The co-singer of _Fully Charged_ , who Hardiss _“Actually It’s Bull Now”_ Lilbourn had been fucking through the wall when Dorian had found them backstage. A man Dorian had never liked, always knew to be ambitious and somewhat morally void, whose influence on Harry had been _bad_ right from the start.

‘Did he talk to you?’

‘Mmm,’ she said, mouth in a line. ‘Cornered me at work, fucker. Asked about you a bit. Told him to go fuck himself sideways, mangy twat.’

Dorian smiled thinly at her stout loyalty. ‘Thank you.’

‘Course.’

Cullen was laughing, hands over his mouth to stop his drink going everywhere, that kind, while Lana told a story from a deep repertoire of disastrous exes.

‘And I told him, I said it’s not _personal_ , I ask every bloke I get with if he wants a threesome with another guy! Dippy prick, accused me of having _stalked_ him or some shit. How was I to know he was in the closet?’

Dorian let himself laugh along with Cullen, trying to forget what Sera had said and for a while, it worked.

For a while, at least.

*

‘Sophia?’ Dorian enquired quietly as they stood outside the suite door, Cullen opening it with the keycard.

‘She’s staying in Lee’s room.’

Dorian nodded, swallowing slightly.

‘Because of me?’

Cullen didn’t seem surprised at his tone of voice, nor at the shift in atmosphere once they’d bid Sera and Lana a good night, leaving them to their smaller, undeniably cosier room.

‘Partially, but it’s not a bad thing. She misses them and they miss her. Tomorrow, I’ll stay with her if Madeline isn’t back.’

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, the lump in his lower throat painful enough to sting. As the night had progressed, the knotted ball in his stomach had spun and grown, taken over until it was all he could do to keep his smile on. Cullen’s credit card had been swiped at the end of the night and he’d caught sight of the cost, tip included, which had made him feel even worse.

Now he felt like an outsider, like someone who was an inconvenience. Cullen not spending time with his daughter because of him, endless _alterations_ to Cullen’s life because of him.

And he knew it wasn’t really that, deep down. Knew that Cullen was a wonderful father who would always put his child first and if he’d truly thought it necessary to be there while she slept, he would have been.

But Dorian had just not felt _right_ for hours now, maybe the whole day. It was like something under his skin, a low level frequency setting him on edge and stopping him from relaxing, now ringing in his ears.

Cullen closed the door, neatly removed his shoes and then turned to face his boyfriend.

‘What’s wrong?’

Dorian’s instinct, right away, was to lie. It was _deeply_ fucking ingrained. Lie and maybe lie badly so Cullen knew something was wrong and pushed harder, so when he broke down and _told him_ , it at least felt earned.

‘I’m—’ he stopped abruptly, something _tugging_ hard in his chest, reminding him that Cullen was different. Cullen had asked what was wrong because he _wanted_ to know, not to forestall further behaviour from Dorian. Cullen had never shown him anything but kindness and patience, love and utmost care. ‘I’m uh, feeling a bit anxious,’ he managed to swerve into, tone tight despite his best intentions because sometimes the truth was the scariest thing of all.

‘This place? All the people?’

‘A little.’

Cullen waited a few beats and then asked, ‘What else?’

Dorian was still standing there, hugging himself like it was necessary. He felt so fucking _emotional_ , horribly fragile. It was messing with him. Messing with his ability to rationalise what, if anything was happening.

When silence prevailed, Cullen looked down, hands loosely clasped together. ‘You want to go home?’

Dorian closed his eyes, insides tightening. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Whatever it is, I promise it’s fine. I’ll do whatever I can to—’

‘Cullen,’ Dorian snapped. ‘You can’t fix _everything_!’

‘You want to talk about money,’ Cullen said and it wasn’t a question.

Dorian _wished_ he could agree pleasantly and have an adult discussion. Instead, what actually came out was, ‘Why? To make me feel worse than I already do?’

‘No,’ Cullen said evenly. ‘Not at all.’

Dorian’s anger kept catching in his throat, made every inhale sharp, low level pain seeping into his fragility and making it even worse. ‘What’s to be said? I can’t contribute, I can’t reach a point where we’re even. This is how it is. You paying for everything, forever.’

‘Not forever.’

‘Oh, really? Know something I don’t?’

‘Dorian, you’re talented. You can do anything, I know you—’

Dorian laughed ungenerously and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Oh, _spare me_ , will you? _You can do anything you set your mind to, Dorian!_ Fucking Christ, look at me! I’ve never even come close to a career, never had a job that paid more than minimum wage. You’re the kind of man who buys things without seeing how much they cost!’

‘That’s not true.’

Eyes rolling in a wide arc, Dorian stalked off into the bathroom, locking the fucking door that time because he didn’t want to make it a hat-trick and tick off Cullen as the _third_ person he had a God damned bathroom chat with. Without even realising it, he’d started the tap running. Hot water, because the steam had always felt nice against the cold sweat, against the prickling of his skin. Like a benevolent spirit, leaving warmth wherever it could and for _fuck_ _’s sake_ , this was his level of melancholy, was it? Christ.

Cullen didn’t knock, didn’t pursue him and though it stung at first, Dorian appreciated being given the time to actually _calm down._ To lean on the countertop with both hands, drop his head and breathe.

‘You’re fine,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Better than fine. You’re in love, he’s amazing, your life is going to be wonderful. You’re safe. You’re _safe_ , you fucking idiot, so get it together!’

Eyes screwed tight shut, he forced his breathing to level out. It was hard to ignore the comparison that time, knowing that his ex would have found a way inside no matter what. Knew the sound of a bathroom door being unlocked from the outside, knew that Harry had kept a spare 2p on him, especially towards the end. Helpful little coin that turned the lock and granted entry into Dorian’s failed attempts at privacy.

Harry had always thought it was a game, a fun _pursuit_. Dorian had never corrected him.

He put breath behind the words, ‘Cullen is _not_ Harry. He would _never ever hurt you._ _’_

When he’d calmed down enough to open his eyes, he turned off the taps, the room filled with a thin mist of steam, warm and damp.

‘Look—’ he said, leaving the safety of the bathroom, to find Cullen unmaking the bed, pulling a couple of covers off along with a pillow. Dorian frowned. _‘Really_?’

‘I just thought…’ Cullen gestured, tired and quiet. ‘You’d want some privacy.’

Dorian stared hard at the covers, at Cullen’s ridiculous _plan_ , chivalry that was painfully out of place in such a century.

‘You were going to sleep on the sofa?’

Cullen shrugged, no trace of anger or resentment. ‘I like sofas.’

Dorian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squeeze away the root of what felt like an incoming pressure headache. ‘I don’t want that.’

‘OK.’

‘I… we should talk.’

He didn’t miss the way Cullen’s throat bobbed. ‘Of course.’

Warily, Dorian approached. He felt cold and nervous. Fucking hated himself for feeling that way, but it was there and it wasn’t going away, not yet.

His secondary instinct was to apologise. To plead with Cullen to forgive him for being such an arse. This, he knew, was deeply ingrained too, despite his ex’s stupid _rule_ that only seemed to apply to him.

But as he’d managed to suppress the desire to lie, so he contained the apology hovering on his lips.

‘I don’t feel right here.’

Cullen, still clutching covers and a pillow, brow furrowed lightly with concern, said, ‘I can tell.’

‘I don’t know what it is, exactly,’ Dorian hedged. ‘But I think it might be a combination of things. Money is definitely one of them. The people everywhere, that’s part of it too. Seeing Madeline… fuck, that was… yeah, that definitely messed me up a bit.’ He moved closer, the bed between them. ‘And I can see the gears in your head working, Cullen. I can see _exactly_ what you’re thinking. That all those things, they’re because of you. Caused by you.’

‘They are.’

‘That doesn’t mean it’s your _fault_.’

Cullen surveyed him evenly. ‘You’re angry at me, though.’

Quietly, Dorian nodded. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘That’s OK.’

‘Right there, that’s part of the problem.’

‘Because I said it’s OK?’

‘Because I’m being so _unreasonable_!’ Dorian burst out, trying to keep his voice down, remembering they were in a hotel. ‘And you’re just… just this pillar of strength and stability! You never lash out, you never lose it.’

‘And you _want_ that, do you?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘So, just to be clear,’ Cullen said slowly, eyes slightly narrowed with disbelief. ‘You’re angry at me because I _don_ _’t_ lash out at you for telling me how you feel?’

Dorian averted his gaze. ‘What if I was?’

‘I mean…’ Cullen faltered. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. You seemed to want space, so I gave it to you. You wanted to talk, so I tried to—’

‘You’re too perfect.’

Cullen’s silence was hollow and stark. Dorian waited and waited but nothing else came after that so he said, ‘You’re _always_ perfect. You say the perfect thing, you _do_ the perfect thing! You pay for everything, you make me feel wonderful. You treat me perfectly, you intuit every single thing I could ever want and offer it to me! You are _too God damned perfect!_ _’_

Somewhere, in the back of Dorian’s mind, far behind all the horribly misplaced anger spilling forth, a little voice warned that this was _hurting_ Cullen. Cullen was so deeply attuned to Dorian’s praise, to what Dorian thought of him and this… this would _hurt_ him.

He ignored it.

‘It’s the same as before,’ Dorian went on. ‘Only now, it’s worse because I love you. I love you so much I can barely stand it and—and how am I meant to compete with this, Cullen? How am I ever supposed to pay for anything?’

‘When you get a job, we’ll split everything however you want.’

Dorian’s lip curled. ‘So, you’ll slum it with me in McDonald’s then? Because I don’t know if you noticed this, but I’m _poor_ , Cullen. I’ve been poor for a long time. Any job I get isn’t going to cover the bill in whatever mental place you want to eat at, won’t pay enough to leave a fucking _tip,_ let alone—’

‘I just want to _be_ with you, Dorian. I don’t care about this, any of it. I only want you!’

‘That’s just a _nicer_ way of saying you’re fine to slum it.’

For the first time, something fractured in Cullen’s expression. _‘Slumming_ it with someone who owns property in London, get a grip Dorian. You’ve never had that sick squeezing fear in your heart when you realise you can’t pay the rent that month! You put yourself down over and over and so much of it isn’t real!’

‘Oh, so because I inherited that place, I’m not allowed to class myself as poor?’

‘You could sell it tomorrow, move outside London and buy somewhere outright twice the size for half the money.’

‘I could never do that, my Mother left it to me! It’s all I have of her!’

‘Don’t make this the issue when you know it’s not!’

Dorian’s jaw went lax, bright, painful indignation and _anger_ crackling within. ‘It _is_ an issue! Do you think I relish never once being allowed to pay for anything? To be carted around like a child on holiday!’

Cullen put a hand over his eyes. ‘Look, I’m not going to be dismissive about money because _believe me_ , I know how it feels to be poor, to go through sofa cushions to find change just so you can buy a fucking bag of pasta. I know how it feels and I just… I just want to make it better for you. Easier. The way I wish someone had for me.’

‘It’s past tense for you, though. You _were_ poor.’

Cullen made an irritable noise, hand dropping away. ‘Dorian, come _on_.’

‘No, I won’t and sorry to burst your perfect little bubble, but you _are_ being dismissive. How can I ever do anything for you?’

‘You do more for me just by _being_ here than you can even know!’

‘Like Alistair?’

‘That’s low.’

‘What else am I meant to feel? You pay for everything, you buy me things, you do it automatically without checking. I don’t have a lot of money but I could—sometimes I could pay for things.’

Cullen nodded, picking up the covers he’d let drop during their argument. ‘OK, that’s completely fine. I’m going to go sleep on the sofa because I don’t feel like I can have a productive conversation with you, all right?’

Dorian saw red.

‘No, _not_ all right,’ he said, taking hold of the other end of the covers. Cullen sighed and let go of the whole thing, walking away. Dorian’s body was fully protesting, nothing working as it should because the world was in disarray, upside down and so very, very _wrong_ and the worst thing in the world was Cullen calmly walking away. ‘Don’t you dare leave!’

Cullen kept right on leaving though, headed for the living room area of the suite that Dorian hated. He hated this place, could feel it in his bones, in his gut. Wanted to leave, wanted to be back home in his loft, alone and sad and _devastated_ because that was what he fucking deserved, wasn’t it?

And that was what he’d get, very little doubt about it.

He just couldn’t stop himself when he followed Cullen, put himself between the blond and the sofa. ‘I told you not to leave.’

‘We’re just going to fight.’

‘We’re already fighting!’

‘I don’t _want_ to fight.’

The core of his heart pounded out a rhythm of warning, pleading with Dorian to respect what Cullen was saying, remember the little he _knew_ of what Madeline had put Cullen through, tip of the iceberg in terms of secrets because Cullen was a wonderful listener but he wasn’t _especially_ good at sharing his past.

Dorian viciously ignored that rhythm, ignored anything that would stop this cascading downward momentum because a small, sickly part of him had _known_ it would come to this, sooner or later and he just wanted it over, done. The next thing he would barely survive. The next _break_.

‘I’m not even worth talking to, is that it?’

‘You know that’s _not_ it.’

‘Well, what then?’

‘Dorian, just tell me what I can do to make this right.’

‘Nothing!’ Dorian said like it was fucking _obvious_. ‘Nothing, Cullen. That’s what I’m saying and you’re not hearing it. This - this money thing - it’s not something you can magically fix. You can’t fix the fact that you live _this_ kind of life and that without you, I mostly have beans on toast for dinner!’

With a disbelieving shake of his head, Cullen said, ‘So let’s change it together! We’re _better_ together, you know we are! You’ve made my whole life better! I fucking _love_ you more than I can even say, Dorian! And I don’t like this any more than you! I didn’t _want_ to bring my daughter here, I hate it, but Madeline is so fucking clever, she always was. She _knows_ a place like this will have me on the backfoot, constantly having to be on guard because there are people everywhere. All I _want_ is to be back home with you in London,’ Cullen said in a softer voice, daring to step into Dorian’s space, sad golden eyes moving rapidly between stormy steel. ‘Please, just talk to me, sweetheart. _Please_.’

Cullen’s kindness and love was like an itch beneath Dorian’s skin, a balm applied to a wound too early, stinging and irritable.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to break it all apart while he was still strong enough to survive it. Some monstrous, primal part of Dorian that had despaired the day he’d stockpiled painkillers and sleeping pills with dread purpose, that part of him ruthlessly insisted it should all be torn down _now_ , while Dorian was angry, while he felt he had justification, even if that justification was paper thin.

‘I _am_ talking to you,’ he croaked, furious at the weakness in it. ‘You’re just not listening.’

‘I don’t care about money, you’re right,’ Cullen told him, breathless and desperate. ‘I don’t think about it because I haven’t had to for a long time and that’s… that’s not right, it shouldn’t be that way, I know. I don’t _want_ big fancy hotels, they all blend together for me, I get so used to them. Being in your loft with you, making dinner and watching TV, that’s the happiest I’d felt in years, do you know that?’

Dorian turned away, angrily swiping traitorous tears. He didn’t want to hear this, he wanted to be angry, to hate Cullen and rush ahead to where this inevitably ended. ‘Oh, please.’

‘Living with you is _not_ slumming, you hear me? Being with you in _any_ capacity is a privilege.’

With a bitter laugh, Dorian choked, ‘Christ, listen to yourself.’

‘What? Being honest? Dorian, I would trade all of this in a heartbeat. I didn’t want to make you feel this way, I just… maybe I wanted to spoil you,’ he admitted, voice pained and pleading, _pleading_ for Dorian to understand even though Dorian did not want to. ‘To make you happy, to repay you for coming with me when I had no right to ask.’

Dorian whirled around. ‘Yeah, you had _no_ right to ask!’ he flung quickly, latching onto the next thing without fully letting go of the last. ‘To drag me out of London and on some merry fucking trip around Europe like I—like I had nothing better to do.’

‘I know,’ Cullen said, expression crumpling. ‘I know, the others told me it wasn’t fair but I wanted you with me and I—’

‘And you always get what you want, is that it?’

 _‘No_.’

‘You just breeze into my life, take control of everything! Cook me dinner like I’ve got nowhere else to be, expect me to _be there_ all the time! Drag me away by the hand because you’re-you’re some kind of big fucking deal whose used to getting his own way!’

‘I didn’t want to be without you. That was selfish, I know. And I just… with the cooking, I just…’ he sighed, blinking tears down his face. ‘I just wanted to take care of you.’

Dorian’s chest was packed tight with wool, fingertips numb. ‘I don’t _need_ taking care of,’ he said, but it trembled, everything did.

He could tell Cullen wanted to argue but he saw the other man let it go, move on as Dorian could not. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have done it and I _know_ that. Every bad thing that’s happened to you the last few weeks is because of me. I wanted to help.’ He closed his eyes tight, shaking hands running through his hair as fresh tears spilled anew. ‘I wanted to help you. I wanted to make it right.’

‘You can’t _make right_ my life, Cullen!’

‘I know. I’ve just made it worse.’ He looked around the hotel room, the biggest, most expensive suite that Disneyland Paris had to offer and he let loose a shuddering, unstable sigh, throat working. ‘I’ve tried _so_ hard not to mess this up and it’s happened anyway.’

 _No_.

No, no, no. Dorian did not want _guilt_. Could not tolerate the sapping entropy that was sympathy and love and sorrow. He clung hard to his anger, to his _justified_ anger, even though it was a grotesque exaggeration. An engorged shadow of something small, something that had, in reality, been annoying at worst, endearing at best.

‘It’s not about that!’ Dorian snapped, but it wobbled. ‘It’s _not_ about you!’

Cullen made a disbelieving sound, shaking his head and sniffing. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said in a quiet, broken way that _hurt_ Dorian, sent a sharp, sour pang through his abdomen. ‘I never wanted to make you feel this way.’

 _You haven_ _’t, you haven’t!_ Dorian wanted to scream. It was all slipping away now, all his anger. Job done, no reason to keep him afloat any longer now they were miles at sea and Cullen was only a distant point on the horizon, unreachable and _gone_.

Dorian started to hyperventilate, started to panic. All the certainty and determination to _smash_ this to pieces, it was leaving him. Leaving fast enough that he felt dizzy, felt almost _confused_ because what… the actual _fuck_ was he doing again? Was he really screaming at Cullen because the man loved him too well? Took care of him? _Paid for things to make him happy?_

‘N-no,’ he managed, not daring to touch Cullen, but badly wanting to, wishing it could somehow make it all better. Cullen was the one wrapping his arms around himself now, Cullen was the one silently crying.

Oh God.

 _Oh God_.

Dorian blinked rapidly, ignoring his own tears, the pain in his chest.

‘Cullen,’ he tried again, the name cracking in his throat. ‘I’m—’

‘Don’t, please don’t,’ Cullen said and he sounded as wrecked as Dorian, worse even. ‘It’s uh. I’m just going to go.’

He walked away, towards the door of the hotel suite and this was it. He was going to leave and _nothing_ would get him back, Dorian was certain. The only thing that could ever make Cullen walk away would be if it was in _Dorian_ _’s_ best interests and hadn’t Dorian just stood there, screaming exactly that?

Oh God, no, no, no.

He started forward after him, almost stumbling because his body felt weird, knees weak and shaky.

‘Wait,’ he pleaded, wishing he could move faster, felt like wading through treacle to get to Cullen. ‘Wait, no, please, _please!_ _’_

Cullen’s hand was on the door by the time Dorian caught up to him and he touched Cullen then, placed a hand on his forearm because if he opened that door and went through it, Dorian thought he might really, truly curl up and die.

‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Please don’t go.’

Cullen’s silence was _awful_. He stared at the door, not moving, but not backing away either. One hand on a shiny brass handle in a room that smelled of air freshener and fruit.

‘Let me—please let me talk. I… fuck, I didn’t mean any of this.’

‘Dorian,’ he murmured sadly, a fine tremor running through it. ‘You don’t have to—’

‘I’ve never loved anything the way I love you,’ Dorian blurted out. ‘Not my parents, not my friends. Not any man I’ve been with. I love you so much it scares me, makes me question whether or not I’d be able to… to get over you if we broke up and I think a part of me is so afraid of that, it just kind of _wants_ it, but on my terms. I’m so sorry, Cullen, please don’t leave.’ He moved to press himself against the door, facing Cullen, barrier of bone and regret.

‘Don’t apologise,’ Cullen said, soft and so quiet. In such low light, only a few lamps lit behind Cullen, Dorian couldn’t quite make out his expression, but when he dared move his hand to Cullen’s chest, keeping him from leaving, keeping him _there_ , he felt the evidence of the pain he’d caused. Percussion of grief and anguish, pulsing rhythm that betrayed Cullen’s exterior, so often flawless and untouchable when Dorian knew that beneath, there was a maelstrom of complexity, of strangeness and vulnerability.

‘I didn’t _mean_ it,’ Dorian insisted hoarsely. ‘Not like I said.’

‘You didn’t want to come with me.’

‘Cullen, of course I did! Do you know how many times Sera and Lana begged me to go away with them just months before I met you? I never gave in because I didn’t _want to_. If I wanted to stay, I would have.’

Cullen wouldn’t look at him, refused to.

‘I’ve made your life worse,’ he murmured, like he couldn’t bear to say it too loud. ‘I’ve… hurt you. Made you anxious and stressed.’

‘No.’

‘Made you feel bought and paid.’

‘ _No_.’

When he closed his eyes, Dorian could see the pain there, despite the low light. ‘Worst of all, I’ve done exactly what your ex did. Dragged you away so I could have you nearby, no matter how it made you feel.’

Dorian opened his mouth, protest at the ready, but it caught and faded when he realised that Cullen was… _right_.

He _had_ done that. He’d taken Dorian on what had essentially been a very small, short lived tour while he worked. The realisation was a strange, alien thing. Dorian frowned, not quite _sure_ how he’d never seen it before. Cullen had done exactly what his ex had. Dorian’s role had even been quite similar, helping where he could, providing what support Cullen needed of him.

He blinked hard, not _liking_ the fact that his mind had obviously gone to great lengths to deny him realisation of this fact, of this strange similarity. To protect him.

His silence seemed to confirm something for Cullen, who gently batted his arm away and pulled on the door, causing Dorian to reflexively step forward. He shook himself, grabbing Cullen to stop him.

‘Wait, please!’

‘Let me go,’ Cullen said, voice horribly removed from its usual timbre and tone. A shallow plea, barren and void. Dorian hated it, _hated_ himself for so much he could barely stand it.

‘No, let me—let me _talk_ , please!’

He was still reeling, still fucking _spinning._ Usually, comparisons between the two came thick and fast. Not so much in Corsica, where he had felt at peace for the first time in his whole life, but comparing Cullen Rutherford to Hardiss Lilbourn had always been a thing. Nervous reflex that provided reassurance, made him feel safer because there were no two men more different and Dorian had _known_ that, had stockpiled ample evidence of it.

Except for this.

Because Cullen had dragged Dorian to Europe. He had uprooted his life, what little stability he had. He’d done so with the best of intentions, he’d made it as wonderful as he could but… it was still the same in many ways.

‘Cullen, _please_ ,’ he said, barricading himself against the door as if that would truly stop him. ‘Just… I need to…’

Cullen backed away, nodding as he dropped his gaze, avoiding any eye contact with Dorian. ‘Fine.’

Dorian’s lips parted but at first, nothing came out. He had too much to say and all of it propelled by the desperate, terrified need to make Cullen understand, make him _stay_.

‘I’m sorry,’ he prefaced. ‘I didn’t mean to get so angry. I really am struggling a bit here. This place is weird and it’s all very tense, even with my friends.’ Hands lifted briefly to clutch at his hair as he exhaled slow and controlled. ‘OK. Cullen, I’ve never loved anything like you before and I’ve never felt this close to anyone either. But,’ he said, trying not to let the pain that flashed behind Cullen’s eyes slow him down. ‘Sometimes it feels like… there’s this space between us. This kind of air gap and nothing can close it. Do you, uh… feel it too?’

Looking away, Cullen seemed to consider. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘I… fuck this is so hard. I don’t know if it’s your work, maybe. It’s a big part of your life and I can’t be involved with it, so it could easily be that.’

Cullen’s fingers were digging into his upper arms. ‘ _But_.’

Dorian nodded, nausea crashing within. ‘But I think maybe it’s more than that.’

‘You don’t have to spare my feelings,’ Cullen said as evenly as possible, undeniable vibration of something pained present. ‘You can be honest.’

‘OK, all right.’ Dorian closed his eyes. ‘Sometimes, I think this started too soon. And it started in, like, crazy fucking circumstances.’

Much to his surprise, Cullen softly laughed, cracking a sad little half smile. ‘Relationships based on intense situations?’

Oh, Dorian hadn’t even thought of that. Of watching that movie with Cullen. It seemed like so long ago, God.

‘Maybe,’ he said, throat thick. ‘I just keep thinking… how will this work, back home? How does something like this work, when we’re not in a magical holiday setting?’

Cullen was not looking at Dorian, holding himself together and keeping his gaze fixed to the side. ‘I didn’t fall in love with you in a magical holiday setting.’

‘I know that and I’m not saying it _wouldn’t_ work, just that, for me, it started somewhere so… different to how my life really is. I guess I’m…’ he laughed bitterly, a thing to almost match Cullen’s sad exhale. ‘Just worried about what will happen once the bloom is off the rose.’

Cullen’s jaw tightened, shaking his head slightly.

‘What?’ Dorian asked.

‘No, go on,’ Cullen said calmly, but something had most definitely pissed him off.

Dorian took a step forward. ‘I was honest, you can be too.’

Quietly, hesitantly, Cullen said, ‘It’s a fine line to walk with you, Dorian. It’s difficult.’

With a sad nod, Dorian agreed. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’

Cullen shallowly rolled his eyes. ‘No _not_ because of that. Not because you don’t want to be involved in my professional life. Not because of your past or your personality, you _moron_. Christ, it makes no difference to me! I have _enough_ people crowding around me for that. I _like_ that you’re distanced from it, protected from it, even. The line I’m talking about,’ he said, moving closer. ‘Is this.’ Cullen pressed his hand to his heart, eyes blazing. _‘This_. Having to hold myself back because I love you so much it’s not _normal_. I love you and it’s fucking _crazy_ , Dorian. You have no idea. I want to be a good boyfriend, I want to be everything you deserve and that… sometimes that means holding myself back.’

Dorian blinked, frowning. ‘Why?’

Cullen’s expression was taut, barely in check. ‘Because you deserve _better_. Because I’m already so much, I ask so much. I… I ask _too much_ and that’s just with my desire barely in check. And when we’re together,’ he said, a touch breathless but no less angry with himself. ‘That control cracks, threatens to shatter. I love you so much and I think at least part of the gap you’re talking about is… this.’

Dorian couldn’t help himself. ‘Cullen, are you seriously telling me that you’ve been holding yourself _back?_ ’

The blond bit his lips into his mouth and nodded.

‘Give me an example?’

‘Like, _this_ ,’ he gestured vaguely, gaze averted. ‘I’m trying to be rational and give you space, respect your needs because I _do_ , I do respect what you need, but…’ he closed his eyes tight. ‘I want to hold you and kiss it all away. I want to show you how wrong you are, make you feel the way you make me feel. Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to hear you put yourself down? To tell me you feel bought and paid for? I _hate_ that money is an issue, part of me—’

But he stopped himself abruptly and Dorian recognised he’d been about to say something that he likely deemed _too much._ Holding himself back, just as he’d said.

‘What? What were you going to say?’

Cullen reigned himself in. ‘I feel so much for you,’ he said instead. ‘And you’ve been through so much, I kind of want to… protect you from it.’

Dorian sighed. ‘Fucking hell, but that’s the core of the issue, can’t you see? You’re keeping me at arm’s length, not all the time, but sometimes and I can _feel it_ , Cullen. Yes, there are other elements to this feeling and despite what you said, your job is definitely a part of it, but I don’t _want_ you to hold yourself back, not like this.’

Cullen closed his eyes. ‘I’m too intense.’

Dorian half shrugged, half nodded. ‘You’re _very_ intense, but I fucking adore that. It’s distance I can’t stand. When there’s distance between us, I feel… like an outsider. Like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m a burden. Cullen,’ he said, taking another step. ‘Cullen, I fell in love with you for who you are. I love everything about you. I didn’t fall for you because of some mask you wear, because you separate your feelings from some weird sense of duty. I know you and I _love_ the man I know. What were you going to say?’

This close, he could see Cullen’s cheeks redden slightly. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

‘Share it with me, please?’

‘Dorian, I don’t—’

‘You were going to say, part of you wishes we were married so everything was _ours_ , weren’t you?’

Colour flooded Cullen’s face, eyes slamming shut and Dorian cupped his face lightly, hot cheeks beneath his cool palms.

‘Darling,’ he whispered. ‘I _know_ you. I know how fucking crazy you are and guess what? I love you for it. I _love_ what you think is the worst of yourself. What you try to hide. I love that you’re too much, but for me, it’s barely enough because, look.’ With his other hand, he brought Cullen’s palm to his chest. ‘There used to be a hole here and I need you to fill it. I want all your crazy, all your _too much_. I need it and when you hold me back, keep me distanced, it hurts me.’

Cullen swallowed hard. ‘I love you too much.’

Dorian smiled a little, helpless and adoring, despite the tears in his eyes. ‘You love me the way no one ever has before. I’m tired of _settling_ for half measures. For anything but what I really, truly want which is all of you. No gap, no space, no arm’s length to protect me because… you can’t protect me. Sometimes we’ll hurt each other, it’s inevitable.’

Opening his eyes slowly, Cullen’s gaze met Dorian’s and something flared between them, an almost physical _pull._ A thread, a rope, a _bond_.

They were close enough to kiss, but Dorian didn’t move the last inch required, not yet. ‘I know that when you’re stressed, you want to lean into me more and you think I need to be protected from that. That you need to restrain yourself, but Cullen, that’s when we need to be closest. When things are difficult, like now, distance between us is the worst thing possible. Lean on me, fucking fall _into_ me and together, we’ll make each other strong. You won’t hurt me by being yourself, I promise’

Cullen’s expression became pinched and tears blossomed. ‘I’d die before I hurt you, I love you so much.’

Dorian’s eyes stung, throat thick. ‘I know you do, Cullen. I _know_. I trust you and I love you completely, nothing held back.’

Cullen pressed their foreheads together, noses brushing. ‘Sometimes I think you’d leave me if you knew how much I loved you.’

‘Darling, I already know and it’s part of why I love you in turn. All your crazy, all your _too much_ , it’s who you are and I fucking love that I bring it out of you. I don’t want to live with restraint, with distance. I can’t bear it. I’ll spiral, question myself and go mad wondering what it is I’ve done. Don’t hold back from me, love, _please_. Please give me everything.’ Slowly, trembling, he angled enough to move his lips over Cullen’s, kiss him once, agonisingly slow. ‘I want every part of you, good or bad, because you’re mine, Cullen, do you understand? _Mine_.’

The last word pushed and broke what remained of Cullen’s trembling strength, his ability to hold back and shape himself into what someone had evidently taught him was _normal._

It was a hard kiss, desperate and deep. Cullen was split open, vulnerable and exposed with no defences in place and finally, fucking _finally_ Dorian could see all of him, could feel every last part of him. Cullen loved him so much it was crazy, was likely _unhealthy_ , but it was beautiful, it was glorious and it was exactly what Dorian needed.

He needed to be loved without boundaries, without limits and utterly unconditional.

‘Make me yours,’ Cullen groaned when they crashed into the wall, feverish need turned to pure fire as they tore away clothes, as Dorian’s whole _being_ screamed for Cullen inside. ‘Make me yours forever, fuck, I love you so much, I can feel it in my chest.’

He was sobbing, Dorian distantly realised. He was crying the words and everything was so… so messy. Hot and raw, cuts not yet healed from fighting, from facing the worst, coldest parts of their life together. Fear cut deep, but love… love was like _magic_.

‘You _are_ mine,’ Dorian growled, voice cracking, shedding the last of the material barriers between them. ‘Mine, always. No more space, no more protecting me. You make me strong, make me… ahh, fuck, yes… you make me feel beautiful,’ he babbled, Cullen straddling him for once, sat in _his_ lap, skin to skin, need flush with equally desperate need and he couldn’t stop himself from saying such things, filter stripped away.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Cullen said, taking them both in hand, mouthing over his neck, that place he liked to bite sometimes, but never hard, never enough to break the skin and Dorian realised that he’d held himself back there too.

‘Mark me,’ he panted, pleasure crashing through him, colliding with his heart, with every single one of his bones as it built, playing him like a fucking xylophone. ‘Show me how much you love me.’

‘Dorian, I—’

‘ _All_ of you,’ Dorian repeated, voice unyielding. ‘You think I’ll break, but I won’t, because you make me strong. Love me the way I need, love me how you feel inside, I want that and nothing else.’

Cullen let loose a deeply broken noise and Dorian relished it.

No more fear, no more holding back. This transcended any past _likes_ or _kinks,_ watered down and diluted for the sake of others, having to hide what he wanted because he wanted _too much,_ always had. 

Cullen _was_ too much and Dorian had never been given _enough_.

‘Please, please, please,’ he babbled, hips rolling against Cullen’s and fuck, he wanted that cock inside him, he wanted to suck him until he couldn’t breathe but there was no way of slowing this down, no fucking way.

His pleading paid off when Cullen bit into his neck _hard_ and Dorian’s head fell aside, eyes rolling all the way back, lips parted with sheer _bliss._ It was fucking madness, it was love in excess and obsession and Cullen was definitely what Josie had called _,_ _‘A lot.’_

Dorian felt teeth break the skin of his neck and it was a dam bursting in his heart. Normalcy and boundaries he _didn_ _’t want_ finally shattering, finally _tumbling down_ and there… right there, that was Cullen.

The pain was like a mini orgasm; a delicate, tight twist around his heart that tugged on his cock and caused him to moan, deep and guttural. It was _love_ , it was the love he wanted and needed but had only ever been offered a hollow, unkind half measure of.

‘Kiss me,’ he panted, dizzy with the velvet reverberations of unbearable pleasure from Cullen breaking his skin, making him bleed just that little bit and he wanted it between them, wanted it so fucking messy he just couldn’t stand it. No more hiding, no more embarrassment, no more pretending.

Cullen slammed their mouths together. Dorian tasted salt and iron. Tasted himself in the most basic primal way and he’d never felt this close to anyone else on the planet. Never felt anything like this.

‘I’d die for you,’ Dorian uttered, words slipping free as everything in his body began to tighten, began to draw back in anticipation of a release that would best resemble an implosion. ‘Nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love you so much, _fuck_!’

‘Would never let you,’ Cullen panted, grinding them together so good it had Dorian’s eyes crossing, had his vision whiting around the edges, his ribs groaning beneath the pressure inside. ‘You’re mine and I am _yours_ , nowhere you couldn’t go that I wouldn’t find you, sweetheart.’

It was Cullen’s hand in his hair, the pull and that additional spill of delicious, bittersweet pain that finally tipped it. He’d never felt anything _like it_ when that dam broke, when it all came rushing free, slamming into him and shattering him fully apart, Cullen’s promises branding themselves into the very deepest parts of Dorian for all time.

He couldn’t even feel himself coming, it was deeper than that, it was _more_ than that. It was like falling, like his body was tumbling endlessly through the air as pleasure shocked through him, merciless and determined.

And Cullen was all around him, was all over him, was _inside him_ in the only way that truly mattered, when he slowly opened his eyes. Cullen was kissing him and Dorian tasted tears, he tasted the faintest trace of his own blood on Cullen’s tongue. Dizzying combination of the _too much_ Cullen had held back.

Dorian felt an almost audible _click_ of something absent all his life, finally falling into place. Something he’d needed but had never dared ask for.

Someone to love him beyond the boundaries of _normalcy_. Someone to love him and be driven wild with it.

Gently, lovingly, Cullen kissed his shoulder, the pair deeply out of breath, clinging as much as they could.

‘Was that… make up sex?’ Dorian wondered aloud after a few beats.

Cullen’s laugh was a rumbling, wonderful thing and whatever it was inside Dorian that had pushed for this, that _demanded_ this level of intimacy, purred contentedly at last.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Love you all, appreciate every single little bit of kindness and feedback.  
> 💜💜💜


	22. Love Has Made Me A Fool (It Set Me On Fire And Watched As I Floundered)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a week late, I know, I'm so sorry guys, but this chapter needed a lot of work and I also got a really good head start on the next chapter too. This needed to be as perfect as I could make it and I hope it was worth it. 
> 
> I very rarely do this, but I'm putting a warning here for emotionally disturbing content (gaslighting and other yucky, abusive shit) because I got upset just writing it, so when you see the italics, feel free to skip poor Dorian's past experiences with his arse of an ex. 
> 
> 💜💜💜

The next morning, Dorian woke earlier than he had since he’d left London. Set a silent alarm to vibrate beneath his pillow and wake him at 3:30am. He carefully deactivated it, looking back over his shoulder to see Cullen sleeping quietly, that lovely rhythm of breathing indicating deep, restful slumber. Outside the heavy curtains, Dorian could see the sun was already rising.

He watched him sleep for a few minutes, rare indulgence simply _because_. It was a primal thing, really, when all’s said and done. He loved Cullen completely. He _loved_ him. Carefully, Dorian trailed fingertips over Cullen’s temple, smiling at the tiny sigh it elicited. He was beautiful, ridiculously so.

Without waking his boyfriend, Dorian snuck out of bed, biting his bottom lip before he got to work.

*

It was easier than he’d anticipated. People seemed happy to help once he mentioned who he was staying with.

‘You’re sure it’s OK?’ he double checked, thrilled that he’d found someone to help, but still a tiny bit suspicious as to how simple it was.

The employee of Disney, kid barely over twenty grinned, heaving stacks of plates into a massive dishwasher, the kitchen busy as Dorian knew it would be.

‘Course,’ he said, thick Irish accent and Lee had a point, wasn’t anyone _French_? ‘VIP’s get the good treatment anyway, but he’s different. Never hid who he was, always said right from the start he was bi.’ The kid winked at Dorian. ‘We take care of each other, right?’

Dorian smiled.

*

‘C’mon you,’ he said gently, planting kisses all over Cullen, butterfly brushes of his lips, sweet and ticklish. Cullen stirred, groaning and reaching for Dorian immediately.

‘Mmm, no, _you_ c’mon,’ he muttered, sleepy and guttural as he wrapped Dorian into a bear hug, burrowing them both under the covers. Dorian yelped but gave in when he was attacked by a slew of kisses, tangled up in Cullen who had suddenly become not _unlike_ an octopus. He stopped and drew back, blinking blearily. ‘Why you dressed?’

Dorian leaned on his elbows, catching his breath, Cullen heavy above him.

‘Because,’ he panted. ‘I’m taking you out for breakfast.’

*

Cullen showered and dressed quicker than Dorian had ever seen him, alert and ready for the day. Dorian already knew he was an early riser by nature, but still couldn’t help being a tiny bit envious of the way he could go from dead-asleep to midday high alert in less than a minute.

‘Is that our breakfast?’ he asked, eyeing the Styrofoam containers beside two teas, both of which Dorian had made himself and then transferred to large, sturdy takeaway cups.

‘It might be.’

‘So, where are we going then?’

‘Well,’ Dorian said, impossibly smug. ‘That would negate the surprise, wouldn’t it?’

*

They walked through the park, the place oddly silent and _still_ , save for the odd crewman or park attendant, the staff working to get everything ready for another day of delightful mayhem. No music, no sounds beyond the occasional rustle of warm, morning wind. A few birds singing a French melody in trees nearby as the sun rose early and cool somewhere around four thirty.

Dorian drank his tea, carried the small bag with the boxes of breakfast and felt _ridiculously_ excited. Sometimes Cullen shot him a look, clearly questioning but Dorian kept his cool.

‘Is _this_ the surprise?’ he asked, looking around. ‘Because if so, this is really amazing. I’ve never seen the park like this.’

Dorian scoffed. ‘Do you think I’d take you for a _walk_? Have _some_ faith in me, darling.’

And because he was Cullen, he simply said, ‘I do.’

When they got to Thunder Mountain, Cullen’s curiosity cranked higher, but Dorian said nothing. They didn’t go through the normal queueing system or even the fast-pass lane, instead through a door marked _Staff Only_ which led to a small, self-operated elevator.

‘After you,’ Dorian said, holding the door open for his boyfriend.

Up and up they went and Dorian could feel Cullen’s gaze on him until the small lift stopped gently and Dorian opened the doors, which led, as he’d been told, outside.

It was cold at the very top of Thunder Mountain, but they were both wearing coats. Dorian decided that the breeze was nice, refreshing.

Cullen’s jaw dropped as he realised where they were. It was a small circle, high orange wall only just obscuring the fact that the highest peak of the man-made mountain was, in fact, hollow. The circular area was decked out with a small picnic table for the staff who worked there.

Cullen laughed, a small thing of excited disbelief as he peered over the high orange wall. ‘Oh wow, oh _shit!_ That’s very high!’

Dorian set the bag and his tea down on the small wooden table, and from behind, encircled Cullen’s midriff with his arms, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

‘I’ll keep you safe,’ he offered.

Cullen turned, making it so that they were cuddling for a second before it became _kissing_. Dorian could really spend the rest of his life kissing this man. Sweet and excitable at first, turning hotter by the second though, obeying a natural kind of _gravity_ as that kiss became heavier, deeper, demanded more, demanded everything and it was only when the back of Dorian’s legs hit the seat of the bench, Cullen steadying him effortlessly, that he realised they’d come _rather_ close to fucking atop Thunder Mountain.

Which might have made for a great story and some really, truly great sex, _but_.

But they had all the time in the world for stories.

For great sex.

And this was a date.

Cullen’s date, as organised by Dorian.

‘Mmmm, let’s have breakfast,’ he said, hand on Cullen’s chest. Cullen beamed, kissing his nose and then picked up his tea as he sat down, looking all around.

‘This is fucking amazing. How did you do this?’

Dorian lowered himself onto the seat, drawing the boxes from the bag, plastic cutlery on top. He shrugged, grinning. ‘I’ve got my ways.’

‘I didn’t even know this was a thing you could do.’

‘Only staff.’

Cullen smiled crookedly, accepting his box, eyes glittering. ‘You’re not staff.’

‘No, but I did _befriend_ them. I’ve got mad skills, Rutherford.’

‘Oooh, _pancakes_!’

‘Made them myself.’

‘Did you really?’

‘No, of course not! Do you think I could make a pancake that perfect? I bought them.’

Cullen melted a little. ‘You bought me breakfast.’

‘I know, tea and pancakes. Don’t get spoilt, now. Can’t have luxuries like this every day.’

‘Sweetheart, I _love_ them, thank you.’

Dorian didn’t blush, he did _not,_ so go fuck yourself, OK?

‘You’ll have to think of some incredibly extravagant way to repay me,’ he sighed, cutting into his own, drizzled with syrup, Nutella and covered in chopped strawberries.

‘Hmm,’ Cullen said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Maybe I’ll take you to Margate or something. Sit by the sea, eat cheap fish and chips, push you in the water before you’re ready, how’s that?’

‘You’ve been to Margate?’

Cullen rolled his eyes, smile wide. ‘Of course. Used to go there all the time with Fen, Lee and the kids. Went there as a kid myself, with my parents and Mia.’

Dorian swallowed a bite of warm, sticky pancake and tried not to feel sad that Cullen only referred to himself as a _kid_ before his parents and big sister had died. What little Dorian knew of his life back then made him even more sad but he didn’t let it sway his mood.

‘I happen to know from experience,’ he said, taking a swig of still-hot tea. ‘That water is _freezing_ , so you can fuck royally off.’

‘Maybe I’ll throw you in.’

‘You can try.’

Bright hint of a challenge flashed behind golden eyes. ‘I can _win_ , too. That’s the first place Fenris ever went in the sea. Probably mine, when I think about it. Never went abroad till we got money. What was your first ocean?’

Dorian thought. ‘Bali, Indian Ocean.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah,’ he laughed, spearing a gooey strawberry. ‘Hard to adjust to Margate after that, lemme tell you. Like a warm bath, Bali. Gorgeous.’

‘Sharks though, right?’

‘There are no sharks in Bali, Cullen.’

‘Because you didn’t see any?’

‘There just aren’t, silly.’

‘I always think when the water’s clear like that, it’s like… inviting them to come and get you.’ Cullen shuddered.

‘Aww, you don’t like sharks, honey?’

‘I love sharks, I just also _respect_ their incredible power and ability to eat me alive. One of the last things on the planet that can literally take you in their jaws and snap you in half. Amazing.’

‘Sexy talk like that, I can hardly resist you.’

‘Go fuck yourself.’

‘No need if I have you, darling.’

Cullen chuckled warmly, gorgeous musical reverberation in his chest, shaking his head. ‘Look at you, all smug and bratty.’

Demurely, Dorian shrugged, but inside his heart was beating like crazy. ‘Just a good day.’

‘Every day with you is a good day,’ Cullen said, so matter of fact that Dorian couldn’t help but look up, see if he was teasing but of course he wasn’t.

‘How much do you love me?’

Cullen wiped his mouth, wry smile painting those pretty lips, thin scar always giving him a beautifully off-kilter quality that Dorian fucking adored. ‘Too much, trust me.’

‘If you had to quantify it?’

‘Still too much.’

‘I guess you’ll just have to spend the rest of your life proving it to me then, won’t you?’

Light brown caught silver grey and held. ‘Yes,’ Cullen said, but that time it trembled _just_ a tiny bit. ‘Yes, I will.’

‘Eat up, before they get cold.’

Dorian couldn’t get enough of the way Cullen bit his bottom lip, perhaps trying to mask his happiness. _He_ _’d_ done that, made Cullen happy.

‘You up for another day of rides?’ Cullen asked when he finished.

‘Definitely,’ Dorian said, closing the now empty box. ‘Might borrow a pair of shoes though. Trainers would be better than what I wore yesterday.’

‘I know, it’s a massive place, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. Also,’ he segue-wayed elegantly. ‘I wanted to ask what you thought of me, hmm, maybe doing a course when we get back to London?’

‘Sounds great,’ Cullen said, leaning on his hands. He smiled with his eyes, gaze only for Dorian, intense and deep and _central_. ‘Photography?’

‘Yeah, I think so. Could give it a try, right?’

‘Love it,’ Cullen said, reaching for Dorian’s hand. ‘You can photograph me all you want. Naked, covered in fruit, dressed as a Roman soldier, whatever it takes.’

Dorian laughed. ‘Roman soldier?’

‘Not your thing? Georgian gentleman? 1920’s gangster? Fantasy era Commander?’

‘You’re literally such a doofus.’

Cullen kissed Dorian’s knuckles and when he felt how cold the bronzed skin was, he wrapped both his hands over Dorian’s, brought them to his mouth and gifted his warm breath, fingers providing friction. Making Dorian warm. The whole thing was done unconsciously, absentmindedly, like it was natural to make Dorian warm when he was cold. Something _moved_ in Dorian’s heart, like space being made to love the man even more, though it really shouldn’t have been possible by that point.

 _‘Your_ doofus, though.’

‘Yes,’ Dorian said, once he’d swallowed over a small lump, pretending the wind was why his eyes had watered slightly. ‘Mine.’

*

‘I, personally, am impressed,’ Fenris said as they sat down for lunch in the place Sophia had begged for (to Dorian’s intense delight) - Burger King. ‘You’ve only made out nine or ten times this morning. Would have thought you’d be going for the gold standard but you seem pretty relaxed about it.’

Cullen, who was queuing with Sophia on his hip, didn’t hear Fenris’s teasing but Dorian, who was sat with him, simply sighed, unfazed and comfortable.

‘Saw that, did you?’

Fenris’s lip curled, eyes dancing with mirth. ‘Did I see you and Cullen constantly snogging every time you thought you were _in private_ , yeah I did. I’m amazed you didn’t end up doing it on that mountain. Thanks for the heads up, by the way. I appreciate it.’

Dorian nodded evenly. ‘Of course. I know you like keeping an eye on him.’

‘On all of you,’ Fenris corrected carefully. He had the _earpiece_ thingy in and though Dorian was sure that there was information being spoken to him near constantly, it never seemed to interfere with his focus or his ability to have a conversation. Fenris was joining them for lunch before he returned to do what he called a _sweep_. Lee was off doing other things and the girls…

‘They’re louder than Sophia,’ Fenris sighed. Dorian did not need to look and see _who_ it was outside the restaurant, taking insanely loud, screaming selfies with Cinderella and Belle. ‘But they seem nice.’

‘Mental, you mean?’

Fenris didn’t quite smile, did that thing where he smiled with his lovely green eyes instead. ‘Compared to us, they’re positively mundane, my friend.’

‘Aww. I’m your friend?’

Fenris looked mildly affronted. ‘You’re one of my closest friends. Am I not one of yours?’

‘Well, yeah,’ Dorian said, thinking about it. ‘I mean, to be honest, I got used to only having two but… yeah, you are. You and Josie. Alistair and Rosie and even Lee.’ He beamed. ‘That’s a lot of friends.’

‘You consider Alistair a friend then?’

‘Oh, come on, he’s a lovely guy.’

‘He’s very _loud_.’

From outside, Dorian heard Sera scream a marriage proposal to Cinderella, using that Godforsaken _Rhianna_ song to make her request _rhyme_. 

‘Yeah, we don’t like loud people, do we?’

Fenris rolled his shoulders and, in a completely different voice, said, ‘Copy sector sixteen, active with targets. Confirm locations and circle back.’ He then looked at Dorian, inclining his head slightly. ‘He’s OK, I suppose.’

Dorian fiddled with a napkin. ‘If _we_ _’re_ friends, maybe you could tell me what happened with you and Leliana?’

‘I could, yeah.’

‘But maybe not here in a Burger King?’

Fenris smiled. ‘Maybe not in a Burger King.’ As an afterthought, he added, ‘I trust you, though. Next time we’re alone, ask me again. Lee wouldn’t mind me telling you. She trusts you too, or,’ he acknowledged heavily. ‘As much as she trusts anyone.’

A rush of incoming noise alerted Dorian to the arrival of his best friends just a few seconds before they crashed into the table which luckily had nothing on it yet. Fenris didn’t seem especially bothered, focusing on things like the interior of the packed restaurant but Dorian heard several irritated _tuts_ from nearby tables.

‘THAT WAS AMAZING, SHE’S SO PRETTY!’ Sera yelled, as if speaking to Dorian while wearing headphones. Lana collided into her chair, sending it reeling onto two legs but Sera pulled her to safety just in time. The pair of them were like sugar hyped kids at a birthday party, far worse than cute little Sophia, who was picking out lunch with her Daddy.

Dorian felt a twisting pang at Cullen’s distance, looked over and smiled slightly.

‘Should’a come with us, Dor,’ Lana said, immediately trawling through her phone to see what pictures they’d taken. ‘They had a Prince Eric!’

‘Cartoon was better looking,’ Sera said.

Lana heartily scoffed at that. ‘Like you’d know, expert level muff diver that you are!’

Sera squinted at her best friend. ‘I can tell when men are hot, you know. Just ‘cos I don’t wanna suck a dick, don’t mean I can’t tell when—’

‘Sophia!’ Dorian interrupted, sending the pair of them a warning look as Cullen and his daughter returned to the table, big tray of paper wrapped food atop it. ‘What did you choose, sweetie?’

‘I got nuggets,’ she informed him wisely. ‘They’re my favourite!’

‘I like nuggets too,’ Lana said, speaking far nicer than she usually did. Sophia smiled at her as Cullen began to pass everyone’s order around. ‘You can have some of mine if yours run out. God knows _four_ is never enough!’

‘You wear lots of makeup,’ Sophia observed curiously and Sera snorted into her Fanta. Cullen sat beside Dorian, Sophia on his other side. He dropped a kiss to Dorian’s shoulder, arm snaking around his waist as he opened his fast food one handed.

‘So, Kevin Costner,’ Sera addressed Fenris with a grin. ‘Ever shot someone?’

Fenris seemed in reasonably good humour, picking at his chips as he kept an eye on the perimeter. ‘Yes.’

‘Uncle Fenris punches people,’ Sophia said, halting her conversation with Lana about makeup. ‘But _only_ bad guys,’ she added and Dorian could practically hear Cullen’s intonation in it, the caveat her father had added to make Fenris seem less scary, perhaps, or from attempting to copy him.

Fenris nodded solemnly. ‘Only bad guys.’

‘You ever do that cool divey thing in front of a bullet?’

‘Considering how fast bullets move, no. That’s a movie trope I really dislike. The kind of protection required to avoid bullets is called _huddling._ It involves shoving the client down on their knees while an extra three or four agents would form a protective circle.’

Dorian could see how hard it was for Lana not to make a highly salacious comment, bless her.

‘Then you drag ‘em off to safety?’

‘More or less.’

‘Like that deflating Pikachu?’

Dorian, who’d been listening to the interactions while trying to eat his bacon double cheeseburger with dignity, became aware of someone approaching the table. It was a teenage girl, clutching what looked like a very Mum-ish notebook, something from the bottom of a handbag, and a pen in her other hand.

Fenris had noticed her first, hyper aware of everyone as he was, but Cullen was prepared by the time Dorian realised what was happening.

‘I’m such a huge fan,’ the girl told him, quiet and shaky and weirdly _nervous_ , like she might burst into tears.

‘That’s so sweet, thank you,’ Cullen said, _that_ voice and smile coming into play as easily as slipping on a mask. Then he _took_ the small notebook and pen. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Claire.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Claire,’ Cullen said, finding a blank page and writing something fast, pretty scrawl moving artfully in diagonal fashion across the narrow paper. Dorian couldn’t _quite_ make it out, might have said something about _best wishes_ and _lots of love_.

When he handed her back the booklet, she gulped and thanked him profusely. Dorian found the whole thing astonishingly awkward, just because he wanted her to _shoo_. Cullen was relaxed and untouchable but he also… wasn’t. It was armour, it was a practised mask and part of Dorian didn’t _like_ it, nor how easy it was for his boyfriend to don.

‘Can I take a picture with you?’ Claire asked in a tumble of breathy nerves and now Dorian was a bit annoyed at her, felt himself on the verge of actually _telling_ her to shoo, couldn’t she see that they were eating together, but Fenris beat him to the punch.

‘No.’

Claire looked over, eyes widening as she blinked. ‘Oh, I just—’

‘No,’ Fenris repeated, not unkindly but certainly with zero room for argument. ‘Thank you.’

The girl’s cheeks flooded with colour and Cullen shot Fenris a slightly admonishing frown. He lowered his voice and pitched it quietly. ‘Once we’re finished, we’ll take a picture outside, OK?’

Claire brightened and nodded frantically. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, like he’d agreed to marry her or some shit.

Dorian tried not to watch her leave, returning to her parents who had observed the whole thing.

‘Some people have no dignity,’ Lana sighed.

‘Oh, fu—uh _,_ I mean, _sod_ off,’ Sera quickly adjusted for Sophia’s sake. ‘Like you weren’t stalking him yourself last month.’

Lana’s mouth fell open. ‘Was _not_!’

Dorian didn’t engage with them, cared only about Cullen then.

‘You OK?’ he asked, taking hold of his hand subtly.

‘All good,’ Cullen assured him.

‘You need to be firmer,’ Fenris said coolly, his focus now almost entirely on the crowded place. ‘Uncontrolled photographs are _bad_ , you know this.’

‘It’s not uncontrolled.’

But Dorian couldn’t help privately agreeing with Fenris because now, as he looked around, he saw other people starting to _notice_.

It was _weird_ how well known Cullen was. Dorian couldn’t quite understand it, part of him still didn’t _want_ to, but… for someone to request his autograph, that was odd, right? Did teenage girls care that much about promoters or was it for his _music_?

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Someone who already liked his stuff from YouTube or something. One time in Spain, Dorian had run into a guy who lived down the street from them. Weird things happened sometimes, he knew but _still_.

And _maybe_ the looks, gathering in momentum, were for Dorian, but he couldn’t help but feel at least some of them _weren_ _’t_.

Sophia ate quickly which was great because all Dorian wanted to do was leave. He wanted Cullen away from prying curious eyes, people thinking they could ogle his beautiful boyfriend.

Once they were outside, Claire shot out of her seat like a lit firework, leaving her parents in the proverbial dust.

Cullen smiled and opened his _arm_ to her, like they were friends, like they were _family_ and she handed him her phone, wrapping her arms around him. He lifted the phone high, the Disneyland strip laid out behind them and he smiled, took at least five pictures so one of them would be good.

‘Thank you so much,’ the girl babbled. ‘Thank you, I love all your—’

‘Don’t post that,’ Fenris cut across, dispassionate and steely. ‘Not for three days, understand?’

‘Oh, but why?’

Cullen put his sunglasses on, soft smile and much kinder tone when he explained, ‘Just that I’m here with my daughter and for her safety, we try not to advertise location.’

‘Oh! Oh of course!’ she babbled, nodding frantically. ‘I won’t post it for a week, I promise! Have the best time, I love you so much!’ Claire flung her arms around Cullen then and Dorian… he was _floored_.

‘You too,’ Cullen said calmly, hugging her back, though not to the extent of her embrace. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

*

‘That was weird.’

Fenris said, ‘Lee won’t be happy.’

‘It was one girl,’ Cullen countered easily, Sophia on his shoulders as they stood in front of the park map.

‘It drew the attention of others.’

‘It was _weird_ though, right?’ Dorian pressed, not sure that he was on the same wavelength as the others, none of whom seemed especially surprised. Lana was queueing with Sera for candyfloss while Sophia chose where she wanted to go next by virtue of which _area_ sounded the cutest.

Fenris shrugged. ‘There’s weirder, trust me.’

And Dorian actually did, so he let it go.

*

They took Sophia back to their hotel suite and while she watched cartoons on the TV, Cullen looked around the room.

‘I hate it here, too,’ he said. ‘It’s… showy and cold, no soul. Let’s find somewhere else. Will you help me choose?’

Dorian did the buttons up on his fresh shirt, having had to change after Lana got ice cream on his back from bumping into him, cone first. ‘Yeah, of course. We don’t _have to_ , though. It’s fine.’

‘I’d like you to choose somewhere if that’s OK?’

With a slow smile, Dorian extended his hand and Cullen took it, allowing himself to be pulled flush against the other man.

Quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of a soon-to-be five year old watching the Disney channel, Dorian murmured, ‘Are you trying to butter me up?’

‘Not at all,’ Cullen promised, arms around him, faces close. ‘I really don’t like this room and I want to be somewhere we can both be comfortable.’

‘What if I want to choose somewhere really tacky and cheap?’

‘Love it.’

‘What if its tiny?’

‘Mmm, sounds cosy.’

‘What if—?’

Cullen kissed him, earning temporary silence and a slow, curving smile against what Dorian considered to be beautiful scarred lips.

‘If you chose it, I’ll _love_ it,’ he whispered, rubbing his nose against Dorian’s. ‘Promise.’

*

In the end, after much Googling with Sera and Lana, even asking his new friend, the porter named Alec, Dorian came to the somewhat anti-climactic decision of _not_ switching hotels, just downgrading.

‘It shouldn’t be this way, right? The smaller rooms being more modern and… _nice_?’

Dorian shrugged, looking around the room he chose, adorably cute corner room with a double bed, TV on the wall and lovely compact bathroom, shower big enough for two. The difference was that it was fresh, it was _warm_. The carpets were newer, the walls were simple, clean magnolia. Size wise it reminded him of Cullen’s room in Corsica, his favourite room in the whole wide world.

‘Sometimes all you’re paying for is dead space,’ he said, looking back at the oh so helpful concierge who had traipsed along with them for the last nine rooms. ‘This one, please.’

*

Cullen returned to meet Dorian for lunch after his afternoon with Sophia, involving all manner of activities, top among them swimming in the massive pool. When Dorian kissed him, he tasted faintly of chlorine, reminding him of the pool back in Corsica, of their first kiss.

‘Hey,’ Cullen greeted, thumb stroking Dorian’s cheekbone as they parted, still very much within that _personal_ space, though. ‘Missed you.’

‘Missed you more,’ Dorian promised, moving back before that _pull_ became too much to ignore. ‘Did you guys have fun swimming?’

‘We did!’ Sophia answered, hugging Dorian around the middle. ‘Auntie Lee showed me to hold my breath for twenty minutes!’

‘Twenty _seconds_ , Princess,’ Cullen corrected with a chuckle. ‘Lee, this is Sera and Lana, Dorian’s friends.’

Lee looked up from her phone and her brow lifted. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You.’

Dorian looked rapidly between her and the girls and saw Lana turn bright red while Sera sighed.

‘Ah,’ Lana croaked. ‘You… remember me then?’

Lee smiled, not unkindly. ‘I definitely remember you, yes.’

‘You know each other?’

‘Yeah, we met once at a venue in Brixton.’

Dorian sat down at the table of the hotel restaurant. ‘Oh?’ he asked, deeply wary.

‘It was a misunderstanding,’ Lee offered generously, opening the menu.

Cullen didn’t seem to know what it was about either, shrugging at Dorian and helping Sophia choose what she wanted. 

‘Yes,’ Lana agreed, hiding behind her own. _‘Anyway_ , what are you having, Dor?’

‘Well, hang on, I want to hear the story.’

‘There’s no story.’ When Sera inclined her head, silently disagreeing, Lana hissed, ‘I will _end_ you!’

‘Oh, come now,’ Leliana said, smile turning somewhat mischievous. ‘It’s a funny story.’

‘There is no _story_!’

‘Oh wait,’ Cullen said, looking up. ‘This was Brixton, right?’

Lana groaned and Sera didn’t seem to be able to contain herself anymore.

‘Lana got arrested trying to sneak backstage at one of your concerts.’

‘I was _not_!’ Lana insisted, glaring daggers. ‘I got lost! It was all… very confusing and dark back there!’

Dorian grinned. ‘Wait, what?’

‘They were going to arrest her,’ Lee explained evenly. ‘But I told them to release her. She didn’t seem to pose much of a threat beyond the banner she’d made.’

Lana shook her head. ‘Not the _banner_.’

‘Banner I helped _make_ ,’ Sera added proudly. ‘I still remember cutting out the hearts and mixing the glitter.’

 _‘Shut_ it!’

‘Didn’t we misspell _virginity_?’

Lee nodded sagely. ‘You did.’

‘As if you had any virginity going spare to offer, but it was a good banner, proud of that.’

‘That’s where you knew Cullen from!’ Dorian said, something clicking in his brain. ‘ _That_ ’s where you knew him! The venue in Brixton!’

‘Daddy, can we have spaghetti?’ Sophia asked, clearly not enthralled with the stunning reality of how small the world _really_ was, after all.

‘Yes, sweetie, of course.’

‘The banner was a political statement, not an _offer,_ and I got lost backstage!’ Lana insisted, voice wobbling with an edge of pleading finality. Her cheeks were bright red and it flooded Dorian with second hand sympathy, knew what that felt like.

‘Nothing compared to the time I got stuck in the airplane toilet heading for Marbella,’ he offered, removing the focus from her.

‘Oh my God!’ Sera crowed joyfully. ‘That was _hilarious_!’

‘You got stuck in the toilet?’

‘Well, stuck _on_ the toilet,’ he clarified while Lana took a shaky sip of water and regained composure. She was a funny little thing, Ellana Lavellan. Strong and terrifying sometimes, strangely fragile others. He felt for her, couldn’t help it. Not her fault that whatever band or singer she’d been propositioning at the time happened to be represented by Cullen et al. ‘My belt loop became caught on the under-hook of the seat. I couldn’t get _up_ , nor could I get off the seat or pull my jeans up. Three flight attendants had to save me. Good times.’

After the laughter died down, Cullen asked, smiling brightly, ‘Did you find a nicer room?’

‘I did,’ Dorian answered. ‘And the good news is, it’s not very far. Just three floors lower.’

‘And you like it?’

‘Love it, promise.’

‘Daddy, can I see your new room?’

‘Of course. Let’s have lunch first and then we’ll go see it together!’

*

The day passed all too quickly for Dorian, but he wasn’t anywhere near as tired when he crashed on the bed later that evening, not compared to last night at any rate. Cullen - after taking Dorian out for _Make It Yourself Chinese Food -_ was sleeping in Sophia’s suite and Dorian had the new room to himself.

He was both pleased and oddly disquieted to be alone. Free time. No boyfriend around. He could do whatever he wanted.

Which was a bit silly, considering all he _wanted_ was to be with Cullen.

 _But_.

He _could_ do the things that he normally couldn’t with Cullen there. Like scroll frantically through his phone, wearing a deep frown, as he began sourcing pools of ideas for later.

Because he was having _ideas_.

For the first time in fucking _years_ , his ambition wasn’t some vague thing, lurking a few steps behind and muttering about next year or whenever. It was front and centre, or at least sharing centre stage with his overwhelming obsession and love for Cullen. He wanted to know what courses were available, where he could learn, what the basics were before he started.

He browsed, messaging back and forth with Cullen who was snuggled in bed with his daughter. It was a very cute exchange and at the end of each message was punctuated with triple kisses. 

Cullen went to sleep sometime around midnight and Dorian _wanted_ to do the same but he was still too excited.

Instead, he scrolled through his gallery, headed right for that one picture, his absolute favourite. Even though it was tough to find because he’d taken so fucking _many_ that day, hands sticky with glitter as he held the phone, he knew it when he saw it.

He opened the photograph, Cullen filling his screen and Dorian’s heart fully flipped. Fuck, but he was _beautiful._ His boyfriend was just… so gorgeous. Everything about him was perfect.

And it was a good picture too, Dorian was more than a little bit proud of that. It looked professional, like it belonged in a glossy magazine although, no. Dorian didn’t want everyone seeing Cullen like this and he knew how much Cullen disliked being photographed alone.

But _still_. It was a great fucking picture.

Dorian wondered what it would look like when filtered through _Valencia_. Idly, he opened the picture in _Instagram_ and rifled through the filters, seeing which brought out the colours of the glitter best, settling on _Lo-Fi_ and then he uploaded it, which would save a copy in his Gallery. Make it easier to find, too. 

Fuck, but he really loved that picture.

Cullen was irresistible, the sheer amount of _heat_ in his gaze was _tangible_ , even through the screen. Simply looking at him had Dorian stirring in his boxers, sorely missing his partner now the hour was late and the bed was empty.

**Miss you, love you, see you in the morning xxx**

_Miss you even more, sweetheart. Can_ _’t wait to kiss you xxx_

Dorian put his phone on charge, smiling faintly as he laid down, drifting off into pleasant dreams.

*

Dorian was awoken by a small, rambunctious child clambering onto the bed.

‘Dory! Dory, wake up! It’s late and Daddy missed you!’

‘Baby, let him open his eyes, eh?’

Dorian laughed and shook himself, blearily glancing around. Cullen, teas in hand, shot him an apologetic look.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Dorian waved away easily, grinning at Sophia whose dark eyes were locked onto him. ‘I lived with Sera and Lana. I’m used to fierce little women climbing all over me!’

‘Yay, Dory!’ she declared before flinging her arms around him. ‘Did you have nice sleeps?’

‘I did, it was very nice.’

Sophia nodded wisely, playing with his moustache. ‘But you missed Daddy?’

Cullen opened the curtains, throwing an adoring smile over his shoulder, for _whom_ Dorian didn’t know. Maybe the pair of them.

‘I missed him very much.’

‘I miss him too when he’s away singing. But I hear him all the time, so that’s like _not_ missing. I learn all the words.’

Cullen sat on the bed and offered Dorian his tea which, upon inspection, had been made _The Cullen Way_.

‘Thank you.’ They shared a brief, but very firm kiss. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning.’

‘And,’ Dorian added, focusing on Sophia, who was now fascinated by the top of his head, apparently. ‘Happy birthday to you, lovely girl!’

Sophia beamed. ‘I’m getting presents later!’

Dorian chuckled. ‘I bet.’

‘And Mummy is coming back for dinner too with Jay.’

‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Dorian added, meeting Cullen’s gaze again, not allowing his smile to falter.

‘We’re having breakfast with Uncle Fen and Auntie Lee. C’mon, Dory, you’ve gotta come too!’

*

Leliana had a suite with a kitchen which meant Cullen making the most enormous birthday breakfast Dorian had ever seen. It was early enough that Sera and Lana were probably having a lay in (evidenced by unread messages Dorian had sent). Lee helped Cullen in the small kitchenette and Fenris plaited Sophia’s hair into intricate, gorgeous braids, chatting with Dorian.

‘I’ve had someone swing by your place a few times,’ he informed Dorian pleasantly, tone lighter when he was around Sophia. ‘No signs of any interference.’

‘I appreciate that, thank you.’

‘Not at all. It’s an interesting place,’ Fenris added, now plaiting three smaller braids together while Sophia sat patiently in his lap, gaze fixed on the kitchen as Cullen made her waffles. ‘Your Mum left it to you?’

‘Yeah, she did. It was stipulated in her will, though the lawyers warned me that the Trevelyan twins could have found a way to get their greedy hands on that in time too.’

Lee looked over her shoulder. ‘Evelyn and Maxwell are not pleasant people.’

Dorian wholeheartedly agreed. ‘How do you know them?’

‘Well,’ she said, inclining her head. ‘We’re very distantly related.’

It was a jaw drop kind of moment. ‘What’s that now?’

‘ _Very_ distantly. They have someone in their family tree who was cousin to my Father. When I began setting up investments, they approached me.’

‘Why?’

Lee cut up the freshly de-stalked strawberries while Cullen scraped the excess waffle mix from around the sizzling iron. ‘Under the guise of familial contact, at first. They were assessing me, mostly. Seeing if I was someone to be crushed and removed or inducted into their corrupt _empire_. Max even tried to seduce me,’ she added with a very dry laugh. Fenris smiled and shook his head, while Cullen laughed also, the tight knit triad experiencing a little inside joke. ‘After _that_ , they left me well enough alone. A kind of detente, I suppose. Eve sometimes reaches out, asks if I’d like to join them at Christmas parties to which I politely decline. I see how they deal with others, though. Ruthless pair, no doubt. But then,’ she added with a sigh. ‘Most billionaires are. Sophia, darling, how much Nutella do you want?’

‘Lots and lots, please!’

When the table was laden with sizzling maple streaked bacon, thick sausages, high stacks of waffles and an absolute _smorgasbord_ of eggs, Dorian began to help himself, stomach growling in delighted anticipation.

Dorian piled bacon atop his waffles. ‘Can’t believe you’re related to them. You realise that makes _us_ distantly related too?’

Leliana laughed, pouring herself a fresh tea from the pot. ‘When your bloodline descends from royalty, you’re related to almost everyone. They get around.’

‘What does _get around_ mean?’ Sophia asked. ‘Mummy says it.’

Cullen didn’t come unstuck the way Dorian might have. ‘It means you like to have grown up fun.’

Sophia blinked. ‘Like kissing?’

‘Sometimes, yes.’

‘Boys are yucky,’ Sophia declared, wrinkling her nose. ‘I only play with my best girls. Is Mummy coming back soon?’

‘Yes, sweetie, she’ll be back this afternoon.’

Dorian suppressed his mild sense of dread, subtly reaching for Cullen’s free hand beneath the table as they sat side by side, grasping it firmly.

‘Daddy,’ Sophia said. ‘Why did Mummy say I could call Jay my Daddy too?’

Oh, bloody hell.

Fenris looked away, jaw tightening as Leliana sipped her hot tea and affected a pleasant smile. ‘Maybe it’s just a nickname, darling. Like how you call me Auntie.’

‘You are my Auntie though, like Auntie Rosie.’

‘Well,’ Cullen said, as Dorian made soothing circles with his thumb over his knuckles. ‘Not everyone is related by blood.’

The five year old tilted her head. ‘What does that mean?’

Dorian felt every microsecond of Cullen’s silence, of the heavy thing in the air. It was like he could _feel_ Cullen then, feel his hesitation, his pain and indecision because one day there would come a conversation about blood and biology, about lack of _blood relation_ but he also knew Cullen really, _really_ didn’t want to tell Sophia that on her birthday.

‘It means,’ Fenris said, looking back with a lovely smile. ‘That you can choose who your family are. Like me. When I was young, I didn’t have any family. No Mummy or Daddy, no brothers or sisters. I was all alone and then.’ His gaze moved to Cullen. ‘One day I met your Daddy. He was really kind to me. He was my best friend and over the years, he became my brother too.’

Sophia seemed to be processing this idea of _choosing_ family. ‘And Auntie Lee is your sister?’

Leliana snorted into her tea and even Cullen cracked a grin at that.

‘Well, no,’ Fenris said.

‘Because of kissies?’

Oh, weren’t children just the most complicated, adorable little creatures, though?

‘Yes,’ Lee said evenly. ‘We loved each other a different way.’

Dorian wondered if the past tense was intentional.

‘The _point_ ,’ Fenris pushed on. ‘Is that you can choose. You can choose who you love, who you want to protect you. _And_ you can choose what you want to call Jay.’

‘ I don’t want him to be my new Daddy,’ Sophia said, expression clouding slightly. ‘I don’t like him. Mummy likes him but I don’t.’

Very subtly, Cullen swallowed and asked, in a perfectly normal voice, ‘Why not, baby?’

Sophia frowned intensely. ‘Dunno. Just don’t.’

It was Fenris who broke the gloomy silence. ‘Want me to punch him for you?’

Cullen’s daughter giggled at that. ‘You can’t punch him!’

Fenris affected indignation. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you’ll get in trouble, punching is naughty!’

‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘Unless they’re bad guys.’

When Sophia started talking with Leliana about what rides she wanted to go on later, Cullen casually asked Fenris, ‘Did you do that research?’

‘I did, yes.’

‘And?’

‘He’s clean as far as I can tell. No priors, nothing suspect. Just a guy who works in a care home, unlucky enough to be ensnared.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘The check was rock solid, same guy I always use.’

‘OK, thank you.’

Dorian dropped a kiss to Cullen’s shoulder and untangled their hands so he could rub his back instead, the blond leaning gratefully into the touch.

They ate the rest of their breakfast together and Dorian checked his phone to see if either of the girls was awake yet. They’d gotten pretty drunk last night in their room, watching all manner of crap TV and inviting him over for what they called a _sesh._ But Dorian had wanted a night alone and so he’d stayed away, luckily really. He wouldn’t want to be hungover for Sophia’s birthday.

An unusual square icon sat atop the border of his screen. The tiny _Instagram_ notification. Dorian sighed, wishing the app would _stop_ trying to recommend he follow people who he _might know_. Couldn’t it just give up and let him exist in obscurity?

But when he pulled down to see, it was a comment.

 _So fake_.

Dorian rolled his eyes, wondering if trolls had nothing better to do than leave random comments on random accounts. He didn’t even realise he had comment notifications turned on for the app and so remedied that immediately, feeling instantly better.

‘So, what’s the plan today?’

‘Busy day,’ Fenris chuckled. ‘Hope you’re stocked up on tea.’

*

To call it a _busy day_ was perhaps an understatement. If Dorian had felt any awkwardness about tagging along for Sophia’s birthday morning, it evaporated when he realised how much Sophia wanted him there. She held his hand as they went around the parks, pretty crown atop her braids, proudly wearing her _5 Today_ badge. She wanted him close, often telling him and Cullen to hold hands as well. Fenris left to perform his security duties and at some point, Leliana left to attend to mysterious elements which Dorian assumed was stockpiling presents.

Dorian bought her the most enormous turquoise dinosaur he’d ever seen. It was a lumpy jewel encrusted thing but it was soft and shiny and Sophia screamed with excitement when she saw it. Dorian didn’t even care about the price tag, loved the way she tucked it under her arm and began confiding in it immediately, whispering about the things she hoped to unwrap later.

It was just the three of them for a little while and Dorian… kind of _loved_ it. He and Cullen swung Sophia between them, making her laugh and demand more. He picked her up and showed her all his favourite colours as they walked. She wrapped her arms around his neck, listening as Cullen carried the dinosaur beside them.

This was a child to whom he might be stepfather, in some degree, some day. The realisation should probably have left him sweating and suffocated, panicked at least but he just smiled and told Sophia that his most favourite colour in all the world was, and always would be, gold.

*

Madeline’s return was deeply unwelcome to Dorian, but Sophia launched herself into a hug upon her mother’s greeting. Dorian thought of his own mother, who’d been a reigning bitch supreme when she wanted, but still his _mother_. Still the person he’d run to when hurt.

‘Happy birthday!’ Madeline squeezed her daughter, kissing her face. They met up in Madeline’s suite, the place Cullen had stayed last night. ‘Have you had a lovely time?’

‘Yeah! We had waffles and we went on all the rides and Dory got me a _dinosaur!_ Look, look!’ She shoved the dinosaur in Madeline’s face and only by the grace of God, did Dorian not laugh. It was awkward enough with Cullen, Fenris and Lee in the room, Jassen hanging back like he was auditioning for the role of bag boy, Dorian stood by Cullen and Madeline forcing her pretty red lips into something resembling a smile as she observed the stuffed toy.

‘Oh, that’s very… nice,’ she managed. ‘But now we can open all your big presents, yeah?’

‘Yeah, big ones, big ones! They’re all on the bed, we waited for you, Mummy, see?’

‘I see that, thank you. Before you open all those, why don’t you open this one first? It’s from Jay!’

Madeline handed her daughter a package that Dorian recognised as having been wrapped _in_ _store_ and then stood up, leaving her daughter to open the gift while Jassen finally came inside, smiling weakly.

‘Hi,’ he greeted quietly. ‘Um, hope you like it, Soph.’

Sophia gave him a small, but no less _stern_ frown. ‘Thanks,’ she said politely, but most definitely a bit subdued and began ripping into the paper.

‘So,’ Madeline said, breathy and high, eyes glittering as she approached the adults, gaze lingering on Lee. ‘Been a while, eh witch?’

‘Hello Madeline,’ the redhead greeted coldly. ‘Enjoy your spa?’

‘I did. So _nice_ to have a break. Parenting is exhausting, though I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you?’

Leliana seemed to be mentally counting to ten.

Fenris asked, with the air of one subverting violence, ‘Are you still set on doing the dinner thing?’

‘Of course I am. Only the best for my girl. It’ll just be _family_ though, no need for you two to tag along.’

‘Mummy, the ribbons won’t come off.’

‘Let Jay help you.’

‘Don’t want Jay,’ Sophia mumbled and before Madeline could turn around, Dorian hurried over, taking the gift from the child’s outstretched hands.

‘Here you go,’ he said cheerfully, shooting Jay a brief smile in lieu of an awkward apology. Behind him, he heard Madeline’s hissing remark to Cullen and there followed a murmur of heated, but velvety quiet exchanges which Dorian attempted to hide by ripping the paper extra loud. ‘Here, Jassen can help with this bit,’ he offered, feeling undeniably bad for the man who stood there, looking like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

‘Thanks,’ Jassen said, taking the half open gift and tearing it the rest of the way. ‘Happy birthday,’ he said, when he handed over the gift - a jewellery box big enough for a necklace.

Sophia opened it, fingers prying apart the narrow edges and within, a thin silver chain bore a dainty pendent. A tiny dragon with what looked to be a very real diamond for an eye.

‘Oh, it’s pretty,’ Sophia said, brightening the same way Cullen tended to. ‘Thank you.’

Jassen smiled properly for the first time. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘Here,’ Dorian offered. ‘You want to wear it?’

Sophia nodded and allowed _Dory_ to remove it from the wrapping and place it around her neck under all her birthday braids and cascading brown hair.

‘Looks nice?’ she asked him earnestly.

‘Very.’

In a lowered whisper, pulling on his hand to bring him lower, Sophia asked, ‘Can I go watch TV? They’re gonna argue.’

Dorian looked back. ‘Oh, right. Yeah, of course. Go on, I’ll cover for you,’ he added with a wink. The child slid away and Jassen watched her go.

‘She doesn’t like me,’ he said, trying to smile when she vanished into the next room of the suite.

‘Well, she’s young,’ Dorian shrugged. ‘Sorry for the… y’know.’

Jassen just nodded, looking down. ‘Bad enough meeting your girlfriend’s ex when he’s a _normal_ guy, let alone Cullen Rutherford, eh?’

Dorian only frowned a tiny bit, but laughed politely all the same. Jassen’s hands were in his pockets, shoulders hunched uncomfortably. It was weird, something about the way he stood caught Dorian’s attention, like he was telegraphing, _acting_ almost. ‘Yeah.’

‘How did you two meet?’

‘Meet, well um, it’s a funny story but we were roommates.’

‘That’s nice,’ Jassen said earnestly. ‘You didn’t know him from before, then?’

‘Before?’

‘Before he was famous?’

‘Oh, no I didn’t. I don’t have anything to do with uh. With… music,’ he trailed off, remembering that Jassen was the one who’d informed Madeline about the whole _YouTube_ thing.

‘Yeah, I get that. So you weren’t a fan?’

‘Of the people he promotes? No, I don’t like any music really but uh,’ he added, becoming distinctly _more_ uncomfortable as the moments passed. ‘I like _his_ music, what he’s shown me and when he’s played in venues and stuff.’

Jassen was watching him, expression kind but Dorian thought maybe there was something… weirdly hungry beneath it. It made him uncomfortable, made his insides _curl_. ‘You think he could be big?’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian told him. ‘I do.’

Jassen smiled. ‘Wow.’ Dorian laughed awkwardly as that dark brown gaze slid onto Cullen, the smile softening somewhat. ‘Well, he’s certainly pretty enough, isn’t he?’

 _‘Talented_ enough,’ Dorian couldn’t help but correct. Christ, where were Sera and Lana when you needed them? They’d have broken the tension in a nanosecond. ‘What about you? Known Madeline long?’

Jassen made a _so-so_ sign with his hand. ‘Few years.’

Dorian was surprised. ‘Oh, that’s a long time.’

‘Well, I met her once years back, just…’ he paused, adjusting the truth for polite company. ‘One time, you know. On a night out.’

‘Ah.’

‘Yeah, then she gets in touch with me on Facebook a few months ago. Couldn’t believe it. Last time she ghosted me, so I was thrilled to hear from her, really. Never met a woman like her.’

‘Singing my praises?’ Madeline called out, high and musical.

Jassen nodded eagerly. ‘Of course.’

‘See? _Someone_ knows how to treat me the way I deserve.’

Dorian gave Jassen a smile he didn’t really feel and walked away, headed back to Cullen’s side. 

‘It’s for your own safety,’ Fenris was saying. ‘Just for the time that you’re here.’

‘You can’t make me wear it, plus it’s fucking hideous. _No_ , that’s the end of it.’

Cullen intervened quickly. ‘Fine,’ he said, shooting Fenris a mildly pleading look. ‘It’s fine. Look, we’ll leave you to it. See you at dinner.’

‘Remember _just_ family.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you, me and our daughter.’

Dorian eyed her coolly. ‘No Jassen?’

For the stone cold bitch that she was, Dorian thought maybe he saw a small flicker of something a little _shifty_ there when she shook her head. ‘No. Just family.’

‘Fine,’ Cullen said in that voice Dorian disliked, the one entirely without inflection or fight. ‘See you then.’

*

‘I hear you stood up to her,’ Leliana said as the elevator headed down. Sophia’s absence was a strange thing. Dorian almost missed her, definitely missed how ridiculously _animated_ the others were around her, Fenris especially.

‘Kind of,’ he shrugged.

‘Impressive, regardless. You’re happier in the smaller room, yes?’

‘Much,’ Cullen answered, scrolling through his phone as he so rarely did. Dorian couldn’t see the screen, but knew that nothing there was really holding Cullen’s attention.

‘Good,’ she said, staring ahead at the doors. ‘Can we talk later?’

Cullen sighed. ‘Business?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t think you’re going to be happy,’ he said quietly.

‘Mm, that’s why we should talk. They’re expecting you to debut a rough single at Coachella. Is that not a possibility?’

‘Anything’s possible, Lee.’

‘If you could save the flippancy for when we’re _not_ discussing contractual obligation, Cullen.’

A strong arm wrapped around Dorian’s waist as the doors opened. ‘We’ll meet later and talk,’ he promised. They left the lift. ‘But for now, let’s try and have some fun.’

*

‘You’re such a show-off,’ Dorian told Cullen, smiling up at the server when she placed a devastatingly frothy hot chocolate in front of him, the cup more closely resembling a _bowl_. The streets of _Ru De Rivoli_ were busy and bustling, but their table overlooking the _Seine_ was spacious and still. Dorian took a sip of the thick, liquid velvet, strong chocolate and just a hint of something spicy at the base. He sighed, eyes closing for a moment.

‘It wouldn’t be right, coming to France and not seeing a little bit of Paris.’

‘I mean, _you_ didn’t show me much, to be fair.’

‘Lee is an excellent tour guide,’ Cullen admitted with a small smile. He gazed out at the streets, at the sunlight over the water, ways away.

‘How are you doing?’ Dorian asked, setting down his cup.

Cullen understood. It was one of the things Dorian loved about him. That he was _used_ to people asking after him, never minded answering truthfully. ‘Better with you here. I wish I could be stronger when it comes to dealing with Madeline but,’ he shook his head. ‘She knows she has me by the balls with Sophia. Even without that aspect of it, she’s always been an expert in controlling me, manipulating me.’

‘Not anymore,’ Dorian reminded him. ‘Not now I’m here.’

‘Now that _you_ _’re_ here,’ Cullen said softly, looking back. ‘It’s like there’s colour in the world again. I want to _see_ Paris with you, I want to do everything fun with you.’

‘We already did the touristy bits, though.’

‘Ah, but now we’re alone,’ Cullen said, smile curving slowly. ‘We can run off together down the alleyways, see all the hidden rustic little places with painfully expensive lamps and tattered cushions with black cats on them.’

‘This sounds like a plan to buy me things and make out in the shadows.’

‘Maybe.’

*

Leliana and Fenris, in true _weird_ fashion, had gone off together for parts of their big afternoon out. It wasn’t like Dorian minded, he loved having time with just Cullen, but it was strange, how they could be so distant towards one another at times with Alistair between them and yet walk away side by side as if going to do all the same things Dorian was doing with Cullen.

Dorian loved walking around holding hands, having finally taken Cullen’s advice about sunglasses. He felt a bit invisible while wearing them. They moved through the streets of Paris, Cullen drifting into his space every now and then to kiss him for no reason at all, usually while they were hidden, but sometimes not. Sometimes it was like he just couldn’t help himself.

 _‘Love you,’_ he’d say and Dorian would say it back, meant it.

They didn’t buy much; a few things for their friends. Browsing shops where no one seemed to care about them holding hands, let alone care who they _were_. It was like being removed from reality. Paris was gorgeous and Dorian felt… he felt _light_.

For the first time, he let himself consider the possibility of enjoying the fact that Cullen had money. That he didn’t have to look at price tags (though Dorian always would). There was a playful freedom about it and even though a part of Dorian couldn’t stand the thought of spending so much money on a frivolity, another part of him was curious about their life moving forward.

It was fun. Shopping with Cullen was fun.

For one thing, they had no object in mind. It was just browsing to see what the pretty shops of Paris had to offer. Gorgeous glittering things, old and fragile, new and delicate. Wandering into a patisserie simply to see what it was that filled the late afternoon air with a soft, sweet scent. After queueing for half an hour, Dorian bought him a magnificently sticky bun, glazed and oozing.

Cullen sucked the tips of his fingers when he finished and pushed Dorian down a small gap between shops, gifting him with kisses that tasted of cinnamon and apples, sugar sweet and possessive. One hand on Dorian’s face, fingers splayed over his jawline, index finger brushing against the skin just beneath his ear as he wrapped the other around his waist, cinching them closer. Dorian sighed against his lips, tilted his head enough to deepen the kiss and feel Cullen respond, pressing him harder against the wall. Cullen’s heart pounded heavily against Dorians, fuelled by all manner of sugary goodness and desire that was boundless, unrestrained by insecurity or hesitation.

Dorian’s head pressed against the brick, feeling wonderfully trapped, running his hands over Cullen wherever he could reach.

‘Would you run away with me?’ Cullen asked in that voice, all low and rough, that voice that spoke to the deepest parts of who Dorian truly was.

Dorian tangled his fingers in Cullen’s hair, pulling slightly to get Cullen to move back enough to lock eyes. ‘You know I would. I’d go anywhere with you.’

Cullen smiled, amber brown eyes moving between Dorian’s and he couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to _be_ Cullen. To look at someone like Dorian and _love_ what he beheld.

‘I’m yours forever,’ Cullen told him, sliding his nose against Dorian’s, swallowing thickly. ‘I don’t think I could ever _not_ be yours, Dorian.’

‘I know that too,’ Dorian promised, playing with his hair, chest tight and constricted by all the _love_ inside, all the dizzying, terrifying care that he harboured for Cullen. Caring was a frightening thing. To love someone so much that the mere thought of harm befalling them could tilt the world right off its axis. Dorian understood about the bracelets now. He understood the worry, especially when he knew there was someone _out there_ who wanted to hurt Cullen.

‘Are you mine?’

It came out breathless. ‘I’m yours, darling. I’m yours.’

Dorian pulled him by the hair, dragged their mouths together hard and it was all _heat_ and _love_ swirling, crashing between them. Dorian couldn’t quite believe that this was his life, sometimes. That Cullen was _his_ , that someone like Cullen even existed.

That he was in Paris, kissing the man he loved, taste of sugar and cinnamon on the tongue that curled against his own. Warm lips that moved and _kissed_ , rough, strong hands that held him, caressed him. Body pressing, helplessly moaning when Dorian bit his bottom lip. Cullen was a thing of fucking beauty and sometimes Dorian couldn’t believe he was really _his_.

‘Yours forever,’ he choked out and it wasn’t quite a promise, more of a plea. Wanted to be Cullen’s and have Cullen in return. Suddenly understood _why_ people got married, even though he still knew it to be a bankrupt institution, an archaic relic of a time long since evolved, he _wanted_ it then. Wanted a deeper level of connection, wanted crazy, wild things from Cullen and would offer them happily in return.

All the world was spinning and every sound was a sigh shaped into Cullen’s name. Cullen was everywhere, Cullen was _everything_.

And it was weird too, how Cullen’s totality did not absorb Dorian. It didn’t smother him, didn’t obscure him. If anything, he felt more like _himself_ with Cullen. The other man made him feel so clearly defined, his best self. Made him feel the tingle of ambition once more. Excitement to be a part of the world.

Cullen made Dorian feel like there were _possibilities_ again. Like anything could happen.

‘Bring out the best in me,’ he told Cullen when they forcibly parted, way of necessity because otherwise, something was going to _happen_ there and then. ‘Make me feel amazing.’

‘That’s because you _are_ amazing,’ Cullen said, like it was obvious, stroking Dorian’s face, their proximity nigh unbearable for how much it drove Dorian crazy. Living alone in his skin was torture when Cullen was this close. ‘I’m just lucky enough to remind you, sweetheart.’

‘Can I take you somewhere now?’

Cullen brightened. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s not a fancy thing.’

‘Even better.’

Dorian wrapped his hand around Cullen’s. ‘OK, follow me then.’

*

They left the inner city, all the glittering, touristy parts of Paris and headed towards the southern banks of the river _Seine_. Dorian kept a careful eye on the time, aware of when they were due to meet up with Lee and Fenris again.

When they arrived, Cullen smiled to see the rows of tiny dark green stalls, the _Paris Bouquinistes_ all lined up along the banks, selling their beautiful, ancient wares.

‘They’re all books,’ he told Cullen excitedly. ‘So many old books.’

They drifted to the first vendor, running fingertips over faded, torn covers, over pages that were yellowed with age, roughened edges and cracked spines.

‘Incredible,’ Cullen said, reverently leafing through an old crumbling atlas. ‘Have you been here before?’

Dorian shrugged, selecting another book. ‘My Mother said she brought me here when I was very young, but I don’t remember. I just knew the stalls run along the banks of the river. That they always have to be dark green. She called this place the bookshelves of France. I never… hm.’ He paused, searching for the right words, vulnerability bringing him to a small halt, but he went on. ‘I never wanted to come here with anyone before.’

‘I love it,’ Cullen told him, honest and earnest. ‘Maybe we could come back once a year or something, get a new book each time and make a whole shelf.’

He said it casually, of course. Cullen had a tendency to say the most ridiculously romantic things without airs or graces, but this time, Dorian caught a tiny undertone of something else in it. That he was doing more than suggesting. _Offering_. Cullen was offering to spend his life with Dorian, to make a bookshelf, to create a little _thing_ they did together, based on a piece of Dorian’s past that meant something to him.

And Dorian just stared, utterly stripped bare. Unable to affect any expression beyond resting face, just _astonished_ that someone like Cullen walked the earth.

Make a whole shelf, he’d offered. Fill a shelf with books and a life with love.

It hit him there, on the banks of the _Seine_ , that he would never love anything like he loved Cullen. He would die for him, had known that deep down for a while now but this was the first time he _felt_ that knowledge. The physical sensation of all that love. It twisted and wrenched, it _hurt_ but love always did.

Cullen was still looking at his book, paying it just a tiny bit too much attention, truth be told, but Dorian didn’t mind if he was hiding for a moment or so. Didn’t begrudge him in the least, especially not when Dorian was still thunderstruck by how easily the man could render him speechless with _kindness_.

Who knew that love hit harder than fists ever could?

Dorian swallowed and shook himself, aiming for a smile and landing on something shaky. The phantom memory of coming here with his mother twined with this new memory he was making, of Cullen’s casually wonderful nature and it felt like something in his chest had cracked wide open. God, he loved Cullen. He loved him beyond the limitations of normality, beyond propriety. He wanted to _tell_ people. He wanted to yell it to the skies, wanted the world to know because it was _good_ and he wanted to share that goodness.

‘Or, y’know,’ Cullen said easily, putting the book back, a tiny hint of rare insecurity creeping into his tone as Dorian’s silence stretched on. ‘We don’t have to. Did you want to walk down to see the—?’

‘I want to,’ Dorian blurted out. ‘I want that, what you said. The bookshelf and-and coming here once a year, yes. Yes please.’

Slow, almost shy, Cullen looked up. ‘You do?’

‘Yes. I’d love that.’

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, the secret, delicately curved thing that only Dorian could bring out. ‘Well, all right then.’ He handed the atlas to the man. ‘S’il vous plait.’

*

Dorian was exhausted in the best possible way by the time they got back to the hotel. Sera and Lana had spent the day abusing their own fast-passes, wanting a day in the park without being _weighed down_ by a small child, who couldn’t walk as fast and, Dorian thought, was perhaps too mature to go on the same ride six times in a row.

Unlike his darling besties.

Cullen went off for his dinner with Madeline and Sophia while Dorian hung out with Sera and Lana. Later, they would all go for dinner. Cullen, Lee and Fenris plus Dorian, Sera and Lana. Dorian was looking forward to it, despite the craziness that would likely ensue.

Dorian laid on Lana’s single bed and stared up at the ceiling, barely even seeing it, for how deeply Cullen’s parting kiss was branded into him, could still taste him if he concentrated. 

‘You’ve got it _bad_ ,’ Lana told him quietly with a smile, painting her toenails a lovely bright pink colour.

‘So has Cullen,’ Sera pointed out fairly. ‘Christ, makes me wanna get back out there. Maybe give _Bumble_ another go.’

‘Babe, you’re always out there,’ Lana chuckled.

‘Yeah, but like _proper_ get out there. Find someone who loves me for me.’

‘ _I_ love you for you.’

‘Right, but you’re only _slutty_ -bi, Lan and, with the best will in the world, I love you too much to _love_ you.’

Lana sighed and went back to painting her toenails. ‘Well, you’re missing out. Maybe Dorian’s new circle of friends has someone fit you can—’

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Dorian looked over, secretly hoping it was Cullen, that the dinner had ended early and then he felt bad for even wishing such a thing. It was Sophia’s birthday after all, God what kind of man was he?

‘I got it.’ Sera opened the door to reveal Fenris, standing there with an unusually grim expression.

‘Dorian,’ he said and behind him, Lee was pacing, hand over one ear, phone in the other. Her tone was harried, tense. Dorian sat up, something sick and cold plummeting down his spine and landing hard in his stomach. ‘We need to talk.’

*

_‘Baby, we need to talk.’_

_It caught Dorian off-guard, always did when Harry came out of nowhere like that, especially when he wanted to_ talk _. He hadn_ _’t been relaxed, not exactly, but it was the closest thing to it for months now. Being back in his flat in London was pure heaven after months on the road._

_A tiny part of him regretted giving Harry a key._

_‘Yeah, sure,’ he said, finishing washing up. He’d been lost in the soothing repetition of it, the soapy water and the gleaming results. Had been enjoying the silence and stillness. Adjusting to the constant movement of a tour bus, that took some getting used to. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’_

_Dorian studied him as much as he dared, never wanting to_ stare _like a weirdo, but he wanted to ascertain what kind of mood Harry was in before they started, always a good way to move forward._

 _The hulking man, barely two years older and yet a solid head and a half taller, seemed_ tense _. He didn_ _’t lean in the doorway, didn’t watch Dorian with that easy smile._

_Dorian sighed internally, dredged up what reserves he had in anticipation of what might be about to go down._

_‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ Harry said, now visibly agitated._

_‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Dorian suggested, rubbing his hands on his jeans to dry them, rubbed them too hard and made it hurt slightly but pain galvanised him, made him feel strong even if it was just an illusion._

_‘Only if you come with me.’ That was a familiar one._

_‘OK.’_

_Harry sank into the middle part of the L, exhaling roughly._ _‘Look, I know the tour was hard on you.’_

_Dorian sat on the edge of the sofa, not able to sit back and relax._ _‘I guess.’_

_‘Don’t be flippant, kid. You haven’t been around last few days, haven’t wanted to see me. I’m only_ here _because of you. Had people asking me for days to go to Manchester with them, big parties there. But I_ _’m_ here _with you._ _’_

_Dorian cleared his throat very carefully._ _‘You can go to Manchester,’ he said, knowledge of the delicate line he walked making his voice come out thin. ‘Might be good to go blow off steam.’_

_One real eye and the identical, if somewhat_ colder _prosthetic both watched Dorian carefully._ _‘You’d come too?’_

_‘No,’ Dorian said before he could stop himself. ‘No, I—I need to stay here. I’ve missed my friends, need to get a job again and pay some bills, y’know.’_

_‘Fuck that,’ Harry shrugged. ‘Come party with me. These places, they don’t require money. It’s all free. Drink, drugs, boys and girls. You can dance on stage and they’ll take that as payment enough.’_

_‘Hmm,’ Dorian said, trying to make it sound like he was at least considering it. ‘I just have to catch up here. I’ve got a job starting tomorrow.’_

_Harry sighed._ _‘Yeah, I guess. Fucking money always screwing shit up. God, imagine if you owned this place. We’d be set for life.’_

_Dorian went very still, breath catching in his chest and Harry noticed it, noticed everything. Fuck, fuck,_ fuck _._

_‘What?’_

Don’t react, style it out, hide it.

_‘You’re so right,’ Dorian said, shaping his features into those of wistful annoyance. ‘I wish I could come with you but bills won’t pay themselves.’_

_‘You could sublet,’ Harry suggested, still watching Dorian with eyes that missed nothing, that scoured his skin and raked each emotion. The man was surprisingly analytical when sober. Dorian almost preferred him when he was drunk or high, it was easier to lie to him at least. ‘Landlord might not find out.’_

_‘She lives right downstairs,’ Dorian said, cramming down everything inside him that was now genuinely terrified because a single slip could have had him revealing something he thought Harry already knew. Dorian didn’t know how he’d missed it. Of course Harry would make him sell the place if he knew Dorian owned it. How many times had he bitched about money, the ramshackle tour bus, dodgy equipment? ‘And she rents it out lower than market rate, so I don’t want to fuck anything up. When does all the partying start?’_

_Harry shrugged and his laser-like gaze finally dissipated, leaving Dorian_ _’s heart thundering in his chest. ‘Tomorrow.’_

_So, he wasn_ _’t missing anything. Typical mislead. Anger prickled inside Dorian, irked him enough that he half wanted to lash out, to tell the man what he thought of him._

_‘Well, you can go,’ he said. ‘But I’m not.’_

_‘Yeah,’ Harry said. ‘That’s why I’m here. Why we need to talk.’_

_‘Oh, right. OK, sure.’_

_‘I’ve never gone official with anyone,’ Harry said. ‘Always been that way.’_

_Dorian waited._ _‘OK.’_

_‘You’re the closest I’ve come to actually wanting it,’ Harry said, looking around the flat, both huge arms stretched out along the back of the sofa. ‘You drive me crazy, kid, you know that. So,’ he sighed, finally looking back. ‘I wanted to come here and make it official.’_

_Dorian waited some more, mind whirling._ _‘…OK?’_

_Harry rolled his eyes._ _‘I’m asking you to be my boyfriend, you ass.’_

_By some miracle, Dorian did_ not _say that he thought he already was his boyfriend, but it was a damn near thing._ _‘Right.’_

_‘That’s a big deal for me. Never done that with anyone.’_

_‘Just to be clear,’ Dorian said quietly. ‘On the road, all those months, we_ weren’t _official, then?_ _’_

_‘I barely touched anyone else,’ Harry said. ‘That’s not like me.’_

_Dorian didn_ _’t really know what to say, vaguely knew he should be angry and he_ was _but there was something else in it, something so hurt and dejected that it smothered the anger, like submerging a firework in water._ _‘I…’_

_‘Does that make you happy, baby? That you make me want things I never have before?’_

Happy? _Was Dorian meant to be happy about that?_

_‘So, on tour, you got with other people?’_

_‘Couple times only, when you were busy,’ Harry said, moving closer, half crawling towards Dorian but only to get close enough to grab his hand and_ pull _. He pulled Dorian like a child might pull a doll, heedless and clumsy, only to make them move._ _‘Thought of you the whole time,’ he breathed, dragging Dorian onto his lap. ‘That’s how much you affect me, kid, make me see you even when you’re not there.’_

_Dorian tried to swallow down a cold, awful feeling._ _‘You—’_

_‘I know, it’s so hot, right? How you’re under my skin,’ he rumbled, positioning Dorian right where he wanted him. ‘God, you make me crazy. Almost said your name while I fucked the boy, pretty little thing, you’d have liked him. Oh, does that turn you on, baby? You want Daddy to tell you all about it?’_

_Dorian felt like he couldn_ _’t breathe, like he was caught in a fucking_ dream _. Paralytic state of inertia as the man who was only_ now _his boyfriend began to undress him, fondle him and play with what he liked, grinding him over his lap._

_‘I nearly said your name when I came inside him, fuck,’ Harry repeated in a tight grunt. ‘But that was before,’ he added quickly. ‘Before we were official. You want that, right?’_

_Dorian frowned, blinking through tears._ _‘Yes?’_

_‘Ahhh, yes, course you do, fuck look what you do to me, baby. You want to be mine, don’t you?’_

_‘I—yes.’_

_‘_ Say it, _then._ _’_

_‘I want to be yours.’_

_‘Ride me, baby, ride me hard. God, look at you, perfect little slut, aren’t you? Won’t even want anyone again after this, will you? Look at me while you rub yourself on me, so fuckin’ lucky. Know how many people want me and I’m just here with you, only you, offering myself up? I could have anyone.’ He brought Dorian to him, whispered against the shell of his ear, ‘But I only want_ you _, kid._ _’_

 _The words did strange, alien things to Dorian, like poison in his blood, like alcohol and drugs and every intoxicant known to man but when Harry started whispering other things, bad, filthy things about what he wanted to do to Dorian, things that should have had him running away, that poison twisted into cure and Dorian closed his eyes, let himself go almost limp in his_ boyfriend’s _lap, the way he liked. Loved using Dorian like a doll, loved having complete power over him._

 _‘You’re mine, my beautiful fucktoy,, gonna fuck you whenever I like, wherever I like, and you’ll take it, won’t you? Yeah, you’ll fucking love it!’ The pace was increasing, speeding up and Dorian didn’t know when he’d gotten hard himself, when fear had turned to arousal and disgust had turned to need, but it was all twisted in his head. Twisted and tangled and he was_ tired _._

_‘You’ll come to Manchester with me, won’t you, baby? Can’t leave my pretty boyfriend behind where anyone could get their hands on him.’_

_‘Harry, I—’_

_The hand on the back of his neck tightened hard._ _‘Call me Bull.’_

_Dorian winced, but he barely felt it, really._ _‘Bull.’_

_‘Oh, that’s so good, fuck baby you’re gonna make Daddy come so hard, aren’t you? Ride me good, ride the Bull, that’s it! Can’t wait to fuck you in Manchester, gonna make you lose your mind,_ fuck _, fuck yeah!_ _’_

_Something hard and heavy was cranking in his chest, a brittle, rough arousal that sought to destroy, to obliterate him and it was painful enough to bring fresh tears to his eyes._

_‘Ohh, yes, cry for me,’ Harry moaned. ‘Oh,_ fuck _, you little slut, you want me inside you, don_ _’t you? Not even gonna use lube, you’re such a whore, you’ll take me with only spit, won’t you? Yeah, that’s my baby. Take ‘em off for Daddy, yeah, look at what I’ve got for you, all for you. Tell me you can’t wait for everything I’m gonna do to you in Manchester, tell me that and I’ll let you lick the head, get it nice an’ wet for your tight ass.’_

_Dorian felt weirdly dizzy as he stood and undressed, knees somewhat weak, body weirdly numb. Harry had shoved his jeans down just enough to expose himself, bring out the totally average sized cock that Dorian had so often praised to the skies and back again._

_‘Say it,’ Harry snapped, getting impatient as he jacked himself and Dorian tried to shake off the fog descending over him. ‘Say you’ll come with me.’_

_‘I-I’ll come with you.’_

_‘So lucky, you know how many would wanna go in your place? But I only want_ you _, kid. Only you. No one else, from now on, not unless I wanna share with someone. You_ _’d like that, I know you would. Suck me and make me wet, you’ve earned it. C’mon.’_

_Dorian fell to his knees, cheeks burning with shame that was becoming deeply ingrained. He felt sick, his skin was too hot and too tight and he_ _… he wanted his boyfriend inside him, he wanted him to make it hurt, to fucking pound him into oblivion so he didn’t have to feel this way anymore._

_He took Harry_ _’s cock all the way down, had always been good at that, and it was no hardship to deepthroat him. Dorian did it harder than necessary, choking himself on purpose._

_‘Fuuuuck, yes!’ big hands tangled and yanked, pulled and made a toy of his mouth. Dorian let him do whatever he wanted, let himself go pliant and malleable. Let his mind go blank, let it all go._

_Lucky, he was lucky to have this._ Lucky _._

_*_

‘What’s wrong?’

Fenris looked between Dorian and the girls, a beat of apprehension. ‘Can you come upstairs?’

Heart lurching horribly, Dorian started forward. ‘Is Cullen OK?’

‘He’s fine, can we just—’

Lee hung up the phone and turned her attention to Dorian. ‘How could you do this?’ she demanded, voice low and trembling as those green eyes bored into him. ‘We _trusted_ you, _he_ trusted you!’

‘Lee, stop.’

‘Whoa!’ Sera said, stepping between Dorian and the door. ‘No need for that! Fuckin’ hell, whassapend?’

Dorian felt _sick_ to his stomach, despite not even knowing what it was. ‘I’ll come upstairs,’ he said and Fenris nodded gratefully.

‘We’re coming too.’

‘No, you are _not_.’

‘Yes we fucking are!’ Lana argued, not cowed by Leliana’s death glare. ‘Dorian’s our friend, no chance we’re leaving him to—’

‘It’s fine,’ Dorian insisted calmly, belying the unpleasant tightening sensation in his chest. ‘Stay here, it’s fine.’

‘Dor,’ Sera said under her breath. ‘Let us come.’

‘They can come if you want,’ Fenris said while Leliana snarled in French and dialled a new number. ‘But we have to go now, quickly. Please.’

A horrible, quiet part of Dorian thought maybe he knew what it was already and shame - stinging, burning shame - prickled at the corners of his eyes.

‘Stay here,’ he told the girls. ‘I’ve got my phone, I’ll call if I need you. It’s fine.’

Their resounding silence followed him all the way up to Leliana’s suite, the place where they’d sat together having breakfast that very morning.

Once inside, door clicking heavily shut, Fenris immediately lifted a hand in Leliana’s direction and forestalled whatever she’d been about to say.

‘Let _me_.’ Her mouth twisted but she stalked off towards the balcony, light purple skies outside lit up by the dying sun. ‘Dorian,’ Fenris spoke with quiet intensity. ‘Did you post pictures of Cullen to an Instagram account?’

It was like a slap. ‘I…I did, yes. I posted a picture, but it was an anonymous account, I just… fuck. I just wanted the filter, just wanted it to save in my Gallery. I’m sorry, I’ll take it down.’

Fenris closed his eyes, something like _disappointment_ coming over him. ‘Take them all down, please.’

Dorian was halfway to opening the app, looked up and frowned. ‘All? There’s just one.’

‘No, there’s not.’

He opened the app as quickly as he could, fingers shaking as it filled his screen. He saw more notifications than he’d ever seen before in his life. More than he knew how to even look at. There were likes, _hundreds of thousands_ of likes and… oh, God, there were comments too. So many comments.

He saw a few, the newest ones.

_If this is him, I_ _’m never looking at porn again._

_OMFG he_ _’s so hawt I can’t even._

_Y_ _’all are so stoopid, it’s photoshop._

_Anyone know how much cardboard cut outs cost?_

Slowly, painfully, he scrolled down and saw how many pictures had been posted. 

Thousands.

All of them.

Every single picture he’d ever taken of Cullen was there, posted and public for the world to see.

And every single picture had comments, likes, also ranging in the thousands.

‘No. _No_ this isn’t… I didn’t…’

‘Dorian, only you can take them down.’

‘I…’ he looked up, shock rendering him useless, closing his throat, jarring his brain. ‘I didn’t do this.’

Fenris was steady, was a rock in a fucking tidal storm.

‘You didn’t upload them?’

‘No. I mean, I uploaded one, _one_ picture, th-the one of him with the body glitter, but not this. I would never—’

‘How could you do this to us?’ Leliana snarled, sweeping back into the room. She approached so fast that Dorian thought she might be about to hit him, but Fenris moved between them.

‘He says he didn’t do it.’

She didn’t seem to hear him. ‘He _trusted_ you, does that mean nothing?’

‘I didn’t do this!’

‘You’re a _liar_!’

‘I didn’t! I uploaded one picture, that’s it!’ Brain scrambling to catch up, he looked down at the screen. ‘Maybe they got mass uploaded, maybe I did it by—by accident?’

‘You can’t _mass upload_ pictures and you fucking _know it_ , stop lying!’

‘I’m not lying, I would never do this to Cullen!’

‘What about this, then?’ she demanded, thrusting her phone towards his face and it took Dorian a few seconds to realise what he was seeing. It was a poorly taken photograph of a newspaper, the room dark and the shot unsteady but the picture was clear enough as were the words.

Emblazoned across the front page was the picture he’d chosen, the one he loved best, right in the middle, and around the edge, in red, gaudy lettering, were the words, “THE MONEY’S GOING TO BE A PROBLEM”.

Fenris warily asked, _‘_ What is that?’

‘Tomorrow’s front page,’ Lee told him and it _shook_ , fuck, it actually shook. ‘He’s sold us out completely.’

Shock came over Dorian completely as he zoomed in, read what he could of the tiny font, obscured by the great big picture of Cullen, the red lettering. The letters were blurry but he got the gist, wished he didn’t, but he did.

‘I… this… _no_! I didn’t sell this, I didn’t go to anyone!’

‘How do they know this then?’

‘This is,’ his breath gave out and the world tilted. ‘These are voice messages I sent my friends, but they would never do this and nor would I!’

Fenris held his hand out. ‘Give me your phone, please.’

Dorian did so. ‘You think I was hacked?’

‘Of course you’re going to say that!’ Leliana hissed. ‘They wouldn’t run a story in this way without a beneficiary! This whole thing benefits _you_ and no one else! They mention you by name!’

The beginnings of _anger_ had his words fraying at the edges. ‘I would _never_ do this to him!’

Leliana put her hand over her mouth, eyes slamming shut. It looked like she was crying, but there were no tears. ‘He’ll never recover,’ she uttered and Fenris looked up from Dorian’s phone, the same concern and, oh God, _despair_ evident in his features, just in a more controlled way.

‘It’ll be OK,’ he told her, touching her face briefly.

But she shrugged away. ‘Did he get hacked or not?’

‘I can’t see any evidence of it,’ Fenris said slowly and then took a deep breath, closing his eyes. ‘But there is no way Dorian would do this. I don’t believe it for a second.’

‘He _admitted_ to doing it, just on a lesser scale!’

‘He loves Cullen, he wouldn’t hurt him this way.’

‘I can’t believe you’re protecting him like this!’

‘I’m not, but I don’t believe that he’d—’

The door opened, tiny beep of a key indicating the arrival of the person Dorian had been dreading.

Cullen was already wary when he came inside.

He looked between the three of them.

‘What’s happened? I went to your room,’ he said, looking to Dorian. ‘Sera and Lana said something was wrong, but they didn’t… shit, what’s happened?’

‘Cullen,’ Lee said, voice strangled as she went to him. ‘Cullen, I’m so sorry. This is my fault.’

‘Lee, don’t.’

‘I should have made him sign it, shouldn’t have trusted that he was safe. I am _so_ sorry, I—’

‘Leliana!’

‘DON’T DARE SAY MY NAME WHEN YOU’RE DEFENDING HIM!’ she screamed, whirling around to Fenris as tears spilled from her eyes and Dorian had never seen anything like it. Had never come close to seeing Leliana lose her shit, but there it was. ‘Always _another_ , always a stray! I have warned you time and again, _both_ of you, but you never listen, you never fucking _learn_! Defend him over me, go fuck yourself, you arrogant prick!’

‘I’m _not_ defending him, but we need to explain _factually_ what’s happened first, without _blame_!’

Cullen was visibly shaken. Poor fucker didn’t even _know_ yet, but he knew it was bad, had to know from the way his two pillars of strength were currently tearing at one another. He turned to Dorian. ‘Please. What is it?’

Dorian opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

‘Everyone is safe,’ Fenris told Cullen, moving closer, still rifling through Dorian’s phone. ‘No one is physically hurt and Sophia is completely safe, OK? But there’s been a leak.’

Leliana wiped her face furiously. ‘Generous way of putting it.’

‘A leak?’

Fenris surveyed his best friend protectively, care so evident in the way he levelled his voice and said, ‘Cullen, pictures of you have leaked. Pictures taken by Dorian.’

 _‘What_?’

Dorian watched as comprehension came slowly for Cullen and what little colour from his already pale cheeks drained entirely, leaving him ashen. His hand rose to his mouth.

‘Oh my God.’

Dorian finally found his voice. ‘Cullen, I’m so sorry.’ He tried to step forward but it was difficult when his body was this uncooperative. ‘I didn’t… I uploaded one picture, _one_ , but it… maybe it left me open to being hacked, I don’t know. I’m so sorry.’

‘You haven’t been hacked that I can see, but I’ll need to run a proper diagnostic,’ Fenris said, handing him back his phone. ‘Can you delete them please?’

Cullen shook himself, staring at the small black item, life ruining invention. ‘How many are there?’

‘Close on three thousand,’ Leliana answered hollowly. ‘It’s worse than that, though. A friend who interns with the _Mirror_ said they’re all running a front page story tomorrow alongside the pictures. Cullen, it’s bad.’

Quietly, he asked, ‘Bad how?’

‘It’s very personal.’

‘Can we get them to pull it?’

‘I’ll do everything I can, but you know as well as I do, things like this… they won’t fucking care. They’ll run it and then pay a fee weeks later, retract it once the damage is done. Everyone has it. The _Sun_ , the _Mail_.’ Lee scrubbed her face. ‘We’re fucked. The pictures are already everywhere. Taking them down from the account is meaningless.’

Cullen’s hands completely covered his mouth, eyes falling shut.

‘This can’t be happening.’

‘We’ll fight it, obviously,’ Leliana said, throat tight. ‘I’m scrambling legal teams as we speak and Josie is going to meet us in London, but… this won’t ever go away.’

‘Let me see,’ Cullen said to Dorian. ‘Let me see the pictures.’

Dorian, who should have been rapidly deleting them, deleting his whole account, doing _something_ , just stared. 

‘I didn’t do this.’

Cullen nodded, eyes on the phone. ‘I need to see which pictures.’

‘It’s all of them,’ Fenris said quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Show me.’

‘Cullen.’

‘Please.’

Dorian handed him the phone and Cullen began to scroll.

‘You said you didn’t have any accounts.’

‘I don’t,’ Dorian croaked. ‘J-just this one, but it’s anonymous, I don’t know how anyone found it and I… Cullen, I didn’t _do_ this.’

‘You posted this one first,’ Cullen said in a voice so low Dorian could barely hear it.

‘I… I did post that one, but not the others and I _never_ went to the papers.’

Cullen handed him back the phone, fingertips trembling as he turned to Lee. ‘What’s the basis of the story they’re running?’

‘They seem to have transcripts of voice messages he sent to his friends. Talking about you, about _us_. Money, things like that. Cullen, this is worse than the pictures. At least there we might have some legal ground to stand on. If this story runs, the fallout will be immense and it will raise questions about things we don’t _want_ questioned.’

‘How long have they been up?’

‘A few hours. We genuinely didn’t know until half an hour ago.’

‘You should have told me.’

‘We wanted to be sure Dorian hadn’t done this first.’

Leliana scowled. ‘We’re _still_ not sure about that.’

Fenris was unswerving. ‘Lee, you’re not thinking clearly. His past, everything that happened to him, he would _never_ do this!’

‘You’re so naive! There are only a handful of people in the _world_ who have access to the technology required for something like this. He has all but _confessed_ he did this, only swerving into _accidental_ territory to avoid blame. You just like him too much to believe it.’

‘This doesn’t matter,’ Cullen told her, implacable in the extreme. He was shutting down, armour going up. ‘What matters is containment and protection. What about Dorian?’

Lee sneered. ‘What _about_ him?’

‘We need to protect him too.’

‘Protect _him?_ Cullen, how about your fucking career? Your life? Your _self?_ Dorian is not Rosalie or Bran, you cannot protect him! He’s _done this_ to us!’

‘He wouldn’t.’

‘He _has_!’

A fresh spark of anger cut through some of the treacle-like inertia. ‘I’m standing right here, you know!’

‘You admitted—’

‘One picture, but not this!’

‘One picture is _enough_! One picture without his consent, without talking to us first is _enough_ for you to betray us!’ Leliana shook her head, expression twisted and pained. ‘But it wasn’t just _one_ , was it? That picture got traction and you just couldn’t help yourself. The _photographer_ in the making.’

‘Look, I’ll delete the account right now and whatever it is in the papers, I’ll get them to-to retract it somehow, whatever you need me to do!’

‘Don’t just delete the account, the pictures need to be removed individually first,’ Fenris said, though the lack of urgency made plain that deleting these pictures would do precisely fuck all.

‘OK, of course, but…’ he looked at Cullen. ‘Please tell me you don’t think I did this.’

Cullen was white as a sheet. ‘I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose like this.’

They met in a hard, gripping hug and Dorian let slip a small sob, relieved beyond measure that Cullen _believed_ him, trusted him enough to know that however _stupid_ he was, he would never do something like this.

Cullen’s arms around him were so tight but Dorian didn’t care. He could have cried if the shock were any lesser.

‘Cullen, we need to distance from him.’

‘No.’

‘ _Cullen._ _’_

‘I said no. We’ll face this together, head on, side by side.’

‘Oh my God, why does no one ever listen to me? If we are to have a _chance_ of recovering from this, we need distance from him and you _know_ it!’

Cullen pressed a brief kiss to Dorian’s shoulder and moved back. He was shaking all over.

‘Maybe not,’ Fenris said, arms crossed. ‘He’s right, we could front it.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Just come out and say they’re a couple, say it was a leak or a hack.’

‘He did this to us!’

‘He _didn_ _’t_ and you know it!’

Lee threw her arms wide. ‘Who else then?’

‘It’s Cullen stalker. Has to be.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Remote hacking like this is _not possible_ , you’ve told me about it a million times!’

Fenris went very quiet. ‘I know.’

‘All right, look,’ Cullen said, patently scrambling for sanity. ‘We have to prioritise. One moment at a time. Sophia first.’

Leliana nodded, the first agreeable action Dorian had seen from her all night. ‘Of course. Nothing in the papers mentions her or Madeline so that’s something at least. There’s no way to contain the leak, obviously. It’s already trending number one on Twitter, but I’ll do what I can to keep it off official channels.’

‘We can make a statement tomorrow,’ Cullen went on, moving away from Dorian, towards Leliana. ‘Say it was a leak or a hack, have Josie draft it and then we can start damage control.’

Dorian listened, tiny insistent thing curling inside him that he worked hard to silence, but…

‘You really have to draft a statement?’

Everyone turned to look at him.

‘I just…’ he hurried to add, throat closing unhelpfully. ‘I just mean, shit. Never mind.’

‘No, please,’ Leliana said coldly. ‘Please regale us with your expertise.’

‘Lee,’ Cullen warned sharply.

‘I just mean, do you really need to draft a statement? Am I not… not getting it? I know your reputation as a promoter is a big deal and everything but…’ he winced in anticipation of what was coming next. ‘Are people really going to _care_ this much?’

Silence descended heavily, crashed around his ears and he regretted saying anything, wished he’d just kept his mouth shut. Fuck, it wasn’t about that anyway. Cullen _hated_ pictures of himself, Dorian knew that, and he knew better than anyone what it meant to have the media used against him.

‘The fuck did you say?’ Leliana whispered.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ he said quickly, hating himself. ‘Just ignore me, I’m… I didn’t mean it.’

‘ _Are people going to care_ _…_ is that really your position?’

He dropped his gaze. ‘No, I… not at all, I’m sorry.’

‘Dorian,’ Fenris said and Christ but he sounded _afraid_. ‘Look at me.’

‘What?’

‘Did you say Cullen was a _promoter_?’

Colour stung in Dorian’s cheeks. Fucking Christ, what was wrong with him? Shutting up was _good_ sometimes _._ ‘I’m sorry, I know this will affect more than that. With his music and everything, just ignore me, please. I’m sorry.’

Cullen was staring at him almost blankly, but Fenris, he wore a frown that only deepened.

‘You think Cullen is a promoter.’

‘I… that’s not all he is, I didn’t mean to be dismissive. Please don’t listen to me, I don’t know about any of this stuff, I’m just… God,’ he shook his head nervously, guiltily. ‘Please just ignore me.’

But no one seemed inclined to do that.

‘Dorian,’ Cullen said in a strangely young voice. ‘You know I’m a singer.’

‘Of course you are,’ Dorian said, nodding effusively, hands wringing together. ‘I know that and this is bad because of that too, probably hurts your chances of…well, I completely get it and I’m so sorry for that, didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

Faintly, Fenris said, ‘Oh God.’

Now Cullen was looking at Dorian like he’d never really seen him before, like he was someone completely different. Slowly, his hand came up to his mouth again.

Fenris’s gaze moved to Cullen. ‘You swore to me you told him.’

‘I did.’

‘You said he understood.’

‘Fenris, I _did_ tell him. I—come on, this is silly.’ Cullen looked back at Dorian, expression caught halfway between a weird kind of _smile_ and something that was definitely not. ‘You _know_ I’m a singer.’

‘Obviously.’

‘And that I’m famous.’

‘Yes, definitely aware of that.’

Fenris seemed to lose his patience. ‘Cullen is not a promoter, Dorian. He’s a singer. A very famous singer with platinum records, millions of sales worldwide, arena tours and awards. Cullen is famous for _being_ a singer. He’s known throughout the world.’

Dorian laughed. ‘What?’

Even Leliana seemed shocked now. ‘Oh fucking hell.’

‘Dorian you know this,’ Cullen insisted quietly, taking a step closer. ‘Sweetheart, come on. There’s no way you didn’t know.’

He laughed again, couldn’t help it. ‘Know what?’

Lee’s phone burst into noise and she answered immediately. ‘Yes. When? OK. Yes, start it now. I’ll call you back.’ She hung up. ‘It’s breaking on E.’

Fenris shook his head. ‘Already? How bad?’

Leliana picked up the remote and turned the TV on. ‘Bad.’

‘Please don’t,’ Cullen said, but she didn’t stop.

‘You need to see it, Cullen. He does too.’

She landed on E!News, a channel that Dorian had never watched in his whole life.

Cullen’s name was right at the bottom of the banner, red lettering again.

 _Cullen Rutherford Pictures, Secret Romance Leaked_.

A very _All-American_ woman was speaking, informing viewers of the _story_ as she sat on a sofa, screens behind her that showed Cullen in a suit, background similar to a red carpet event and Dorian felt like he was falling headfirst off of a very tall building.

 _‘…the pictures are clearly very intimate, were taken with trust and in a private setting and we know that Cullen doesn’t usually do these kinds of shoots, that he guards his privacy jealously and carefully, so we have to assume this is a leak, though whether or not it’s an intentional one remains to be seen. What we’re hearing from a source in the UK is that tomorrow, they’re breaking a story that sheds light on much of Cullen Rutherford’s private life too, central focus on monetary aspects as well as romantic. We’ve been told, and this is not yet confirmed, but we’ve been informed that the romantic partner is, in this case, a man. Apparently,’_ she paused for effect as the screen behind her shifted to a different photograph, one of the Prague ones. Oh God, the selfie of them both. _‘This man, Dorian Pavus. Now, if that name rings a bell, you’d be correct in thinking you recognise him from YouTube last year. The story is not yet printed, but we’ve been told it depicts a great deal of private details about this romance. If you’re just joining us, intimate photographs of Cullen Rutherford have been leaked. The_ Swim Into The Tide _singer has been the victim of a potential hack and the internet has been flooded with these images of him and his apparent boyfriend._ _’_

The screen morphed into a clip that stopped Dorian’s heart in his chest.

It was Cullen standing on a glittering, golden stage, holding an award, a Grammy, if Dorian wasn’t mistaken. Smiling that practised smile, everything about him perfect and beautiful as he talked silently, probably thanking people, probably the people in this room.

He wasn’t uncomfortable or nervous he was… he was a fucking celebrity.

‘Oh my God.’

Cullen was _famous_.

Cullen was a _singer_.

Cullen was an _international fucking superstar._

 _Of course_ he was.

_Of._

_Course._

_He._

_Was._

Dorian was the stupidest person who’d ever lived and breathed. It was almost funny, had to be funny to whatever God sat above, watching it play out. Dorian was just so _stupid_ , and he could see it all falling into place. Horrible, cruel realisation calling far too late. It was like a bullet through his heart, a knife between his ribs.

‘You’re famous,’ he heard himself mutter. ‘You’re—'

But the TV woman cut him off.

_‘…never made any attempt to hide his bisexuality and very early on established boundaries with the press, but there are rumours going around that this could be an intentional leak for publicity, Maria, what do you think of that?’_

_‘I think that’s absolute nonsense,’_ Maria answered, sat on the opposite couch, screens behind them still showing Cullen, photographs that shifted every few seconds. Some taken by Dorian, others _not_. ‘ _This isn’t the kind of press that someone like Cullen or his team would want in a million years. Think back to two years ago in the legal battle over photographs of him with his daughter. He also has zero motive for such a stunt. Not like he needs the publicity,_ _Ali.’_

_‘So we’re thinking leak, then?’_

_‘I think we’re looking at a leak, definitely, but not an accidental one, closer to a hack, I’d say. The story about to run alongside these pictures makes it impossible to believe this was an accident.’_

_‘Do we think it could be the boyfriend, Dorian?’_

_‘Again, I just don’t think that’s what we’re seeing here. I remember that clip from YouTube and honestly, that was—’_

Fenris’s sudden growl made Dorian jump. ‘Turn it off, now!’

Lee had her phone between her shoulder and ear, typing swiftly on a small tablet. ‘Do it yourself,’ she sneered quietly at Fenris. ‘But we’re learning more from these brainless hosts than all my people combined. This is _breaking_ , happening right now!’

‘ _…shrouded with mystery about the reason for the cancellation last month, though his people claimed it was due to illness, we then saw him performing in Prague only days later.’_

Full screen, Dorian saw a stage, he saw lights and a live band and there, front and centre, was _Cullen._ Cullen holding the mic stand with both hands, eyes closed, emotion playing over his face as he silently sang. He was wearing… fuck.

He was wearing the fucking shirt Dorian had dressed him in, the pretty purple one. 

‘…s _trange circumstances when you pair with this picture here,_ _’_ Ali went on and the screen shifted to the selfie again. Their smiling faces and all of Prague laid out behind them. ‘ _Could be looking at a whirlwind romance here, maybe_ _?’_

_‘I think this is a really unfortunate leak, knowing how private he is. For even one photo to leak of this nature, I think the man we know would be distressed but we’re talking close on three thousand and some of them, which we won’t show until our after nine show, some of them are really quite intimate.’_

_‘You’re talking about the kissing pictures?’_

_‘Yes, the ones where it looks like the camera, I’m assuming a phone, was angled above them while kissing in bed. What we know of Cullen is that this will be a very distressing time for him and his family.’_

Fenris took the remote from where Lee had set it down and turned the TV off. ‘We don’t need to see this.’

‘Harding,’ Leliana spoke into the phone. ‘Yes, I know. Get everyone up on the system, and I mean _everyone_. Teamsters, PA’s, anyone we’ve ever worked with before. I need all their NDA’s checked and double checked. There’ll be a gold rush, offers for everyone to come forward. Everything needs to be airtight. Thanks. Yeah, call me back.’

Dorian stared at the TV long after it went black. He felt like the images were branded into his brain. Cullen singing, Cullen wearing his shirt, performing on stage in the O2 arena in Prague. Cullen accepting awards.

He couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t feel anything.

‘You’re a famous singer,’ he said again, voice distant and detached, like the words weren’t even his own.

‘Dorian, you _knew_ that.’

‘I… didn’t. I really didn’t.’

Dorian’s phone was ringing, had been for a while. When he took it out of his pocket, he saw it was Sera. He cancelled the call and turned the phone on silent, unsure of what he was meant to do.

What _was_ he supposed to do?

When he looked up at Cullen, the blond seemed to be feeling the same thing. Lost, helpless, adrift.

‘Dorian, how could you not know?’

‘You never…’ the words caught sharply in his throat and a fit of something like nausea had him in a brief stranglehold. This couldn’t be happening, none of it.

Not his pictures on TV. Not his name being spoken.

Not people talking about Cullen like they knew him.

‘You never told me.’

‘I _did,_ how can you say that? I told you when we met, I told you twice in Prague! How… _how_ ,’ he lowered his voice, softened it as something vulnerable came into his eyes. ‘How could you not know?’

‘He must have known,’ Leliana muttered, still on the phone.

‘I _didn_ _’t_.’

‘Like you didn’t upload those pictures?’

‘OK, enough,’ Fenris warned sharply. ‘Lee, this is not helpful. Lashing out won’t make anything better.’

Cold and sharp, she bit back quickly. ‘You’d _know_ all about that, I suppose. And you know what else, _back_ the fuck off, go see to him if you’re so concerned. My concern here is _Cullen_ , you know, our best friend? The one whose career and life might have just been _tanked_ by some newcomer!’

Cullen half turned towards her. ‘Fenris is right, placing blame won’t help.’

Lee didn’t look up from her phone. ‘I’ll do what I need to, like always.’ She dialled and put it to her ear, closing her eyes. ‘Kieran, sweetie, it’s Lee. Can you put your Mummy on? Thank you.’ She waited, glaring across the room while Dorian tried to recall the use of his mouth, of his _brain_. ‘Morrigan, would it fucking _kill_ you to turn your mobile on once in a while? Yes, _obviously_ it’s why. I need your help. Fine, whatever it is, send me the bill. Patently _not_ , or else I’d be calling him myself, wouldn’t I? Sorry. Yes, all right. Thanks. Send them to Josie. Bye.’

Fenris watched her with slightly widened eyes. ‘You’re calling Morrigan?’

‘I believe it to be necessary.’

Cullen scrubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘Fuck.’

Frantic banging at the door made Dorian jump out of his skin. He heard Sera and Lana yelling through the door, calling his name.

‘Get rid of them,’ Leliana instructed to precisely no one, affixing a small, subtle Bluetooth device to her ear and dialling someone else. ‘Preferably have them sign something first.’

Cullen looked back at Dorian. ‘What do you want to do?’

His _voice_ , oh God, it was like he was shattering apart, held together only by the barest of margins. Held together by confusion, by lack of understanding.

Fenris opened the door and in came Sera and Lana, hurrying over to Dorian.

‘Babe, don’t panic or anything,’ Lana panted, hands raised. ‘But your face is all over the news.’

A shaky thing, _almost_ a laugh, but most definitely a sob in origin came out and Sera pulled him into her arms, hugging him fiercely.

‘The fuck happened?’ Sera demanded when they parted, shooting daggers at each of the three. ‘Is this some kind of publicity stunt or what? Just cos you’re famous, don’t mean you get to—’

‘I didn’t know he was famous,’ Dorian told her.

Sera froze and so did Lana, right before their expressions collapsed into almost hilariously identical grimaces.

‘Fucking knew it,’ Sera groaned.

‘I _told you_ we should have showed him! Fuckin’ told you!’

‘I don’t _care_ what you need to do, just call me when it’s done!’ Leliana yelled at someone before she hung up on them with a decisive jab at her screen. She levelled Lana and Sera with a cold glare. ‘I’ll ask this once and I expect honesty. Has either of you gone to the press? The voice messages were all sent to you.’

Sera’s jaw _dropped_. ‘You think we did this?’

‘That’s what I am _asking,_ yes.’

‘If you think we’d do this to Dorian, you’re fuckin’ mental!’

‘Has either of you been compromised? Phones lost or stolen over the last week?’

‘So typical, blame the little people,’ Sera crowed scathingly. ‘You think you’re hot shit ‘cos you’re rich, well I’ve got news for you, bein’ rich don’t mean you can just—'

Fenris got a call and answered it with quiet urgency, the attention of the whole room swerving onto him, silence prevailing to allow him to speak. Dorian watched and he let Sera steady him. He could not bring himself to look at Cullen, could barely stay _upright_.

Famous. Cullen was _famous_. His boyfriend was a fucking household name and Dorian…

‘You OK?’ Sera asked softly when he swayed.

Jaw clenched shut, he nodded briskly and subtly clung to her all the more.

‘Yes. Confirmed? OK. Thanks.’ Fenris hung up, clipping the old fashioned phone shut with a snap. ‘We have to leave. They know where we are.’

‘Perfect,’ Leliana said with barely contained fury. ‘Of course they know where we are.’ Her gaze locked with Dorian. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

Dorian took a deep, trembling breath. ‘You can think whatever you want of me, but I _did not do this_!’

More banging at the door and this time, it was Cullen who closed his eyes, recognising the voice outside.

Fenris said, ‘I can send her away.’

‘Better to let her in,’ Cullen told him.

Madeline was pristine as ever, but Jassen was all sweaty and damp, wearing joggers and a black vest top. Sophia was not with them.

‘Where’s—?’ Cullen began to ask but his ex raised a hand sharply to silence him.

‘Concierge and hotel manager are both watching her. What in the _fuck_ is happening? Why are pictures of you all over Facebook?’

Madeline’s disgust was palpable, there was real, bubbling anger there. Jassen beside her was silent as ever, concerned expression flitting from one person to the other, always coming back to Cullen, lingering there slightly.

And Dorian’s breath caught again, but for a _very_ different reason.

‘You,’ he said, gaze affixed on the sweaty man standing awkwardly. ‘This is… this is _you?_ _’_

Jassen looked behind him, brow furrowing. _‘Me_?’

Mind running a mile a minute, Dorian narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh my _God_. This is all you.’ Brittle, cutting fury began to stretch and burn within because he’d been stupid, stupidest person _alive_ , but he knew, with every fibre of his being, that this instinct was somehow dead on. ‘You knocked my phone out of my hand. You did the thing Fenris did. You cloned my phone or whatever. This is _you_!’

Madeline’s boyfriend gawked unattractively. ‘I… what’s me? Did I crack the screen, then? I’m so sorry if I—’

Fenris stepped forward. ‘Let me see your phone.’

‘I—OK, I mean sure, but why?’

He handed it over, the very picture of worry but oh, Dorian could see through it. He could _see_ right through him and it was breath-taking, it was _terrifying_. He’d known players, he’d known liars and even men whose performances were Oscar worthy, but this… this man was something else and Dorian felt an irrational stab of fear that the others wouldn’t believe him.

Jassen was _bad_. Sophia was so right.

Fenris surveyed him flatly. ‘Where were you the last few hours?’

‘In the gym,’ Jassen said, slowly. He seemed so dumb, so innocuous but now Dorian had seen it, he couldn’t _un_ -see it. Jassen was acting, playing the role of the goofy, awkward tag along. ‘Been there all evening.’

‘Hmm,’ Fenris commented, accessing his phone without needing Jassen to unlock it. ‘Convenient alibi.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Leliana spat. ‘We have bigger concerns than this!’

‘It’s _you_ ,’ Dorian repeated as Lana wrapped her arm around him, half comfort, half to stop him in case he did something stupid. ‘You’ve done this, I know it!’

Madeline gave Dorian what could kindly be termed a very _cold_ up and down look.

‘How dare you accuse him when it’s so blatantly you? These were pictures you took! Hope you got your money’s worth, you fucking _whore_!’

Cullen started forward so fast that Dorian didn’t really know what was happening until Fenris threw out his arm, hand pressed to the centre of Cullen’s chest to _stop_ whatever started and Leliana did the same, delicate fingers wrapping about his upper arm. Now that Dorian was looking at him, gaze drawn helplessly there by the movement, he could see anger shining brightly through everything else _._ That Cullen had been angry enough to move forward, for his friends to deem it necessary to stop him. All the more jarring considering that Cullen was _never_ quick to anger, always remained calm and patient.

Madeline was disgusted, but perhaps very slightly shaken as well. Her voice trembled when she demanded, ‘Who the fuck do you think you’re dealing with? I’m the Mother of your _child_ and you move forward to hit me?’

‘I would _never_ —’

‘Just wait till I get _my_ turn with the tabloids. What a fucking story that’ll be!’

Leliana’s eyes flashed. ‘Madeline, shut your mouth! As if you’ll go anywhere near them. You think ten grand will set you up for life? Get a grip and stop trying to make this about you!’

‘Maybe I don’t want your money if it means being _shackled_ to you and your shame by association!’

‘Coming from _you_?’ Dorian fairly scathed, couldn’t help himself. ‘That’s pretty fucking rich!’

Madeline sneered at Cullen. ‘What were you _thinking_ , trusting someone like this? What have you exposed us to just to fulfil your _pathetic_ needs?’

‘OK, _enough!’_ Fenris barked. ‘This situation doesn’t need any more complications, Madeline, not a single one. We’re in damage control here, but safety is still the priority. There will be no going to the tabloids, no speaking to anyone. We have to leave. Madeline, you and Sophia will have to come with us for security purposes. Jassen,’ he added, shooting the man a hard, flat stare. ‘You’ll have to make your own way back.’

‘Oh, right, of course,’ the man stammered, still hovering in the background, hadn’t moved to Madeline’s side, hadn’t spoken once since Dorian had accused him. ‘Can I get my phone back, or—yeah, no. All good. Give it back whenever.’

‘He doesn’t have to leave!’

‘We _all_ have to leave.’

‘Well, then he’s coming with us. He didn’t do this and you can’t just _oust_ him because of what Cullen’s little _trick_ accuses him of!’

Dorian didn’t miss the way Lee’s hand tightened around Cullen’s arm. The air crackled, tension thick and oppressive, everything _wrong_.

‘It’s fine,’ Jassen smiled sadly. ‘I get it. I really hope things are OK for you,’ he told Cullen, so earnest it made Dorian’s skin crawl. ‘Sorry for… for causing you any pain.’

Dorian wanted to _scream_ at him, wanted to scream at them all not to let him go. He should be handcuffed, arrested, _hurt_ for what he’d done to them but he could already tell from the way Cullen nodded, _almost_ smiling in return, that Fenris was likely the only one who believed him. For now, it would have to be enough that he wasn’t going back with them, with Sophia. Dorian had time to prove it, to make them _see_.

‘Maddy, I’ll see you back home, yeah?’

‘Of course,’ Madeline said, but she didn’t move to kiss him or even touch him. Jassen’s pause was agonisingly awkward and Dorian couldn’t help but marvel, because even he wanted to cringe at the man’s slow realisation that his girlfriend didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.

It made him terrified for Cullen. For all of them.

The door shut behind Jassen and Madeline burst out, ‘Do you realise how much this will hurt Sophia? She starts proper school in September, how could you let this _happen_?’

‘He didn’t _let_ anything happen,’ Lee corrected sharply. ‘And unless this affects the cashing of your next cheque, then please realise that this has _nothing_ to do with you!’

‘Christ, you never miss an opportunity to be a _bitch,_ do you?’

‘Stiff competition when _you_ _’re_ around.’

‘You stuck up piece of—’

‘Right, Madeline, you need to go and pack,’ Fenris said, apparently endless patience keeping his voice steady and soothing. ‘Get Sophia ready and we’ll collect you from your suite in half an hour.’

‘No, I will _not_!’

Seething, panting slightly Madeline made for Cullen and Dorian didn’t miss the way the taller man _flinched_ ever so slightly.

‘I _begged_ you to keep a low profile with this disgusting shit,’ she snarled through ground teeth. ‘Find a _girl_ willing to put up with your pathetic bullshit, but oh _no._ You had to hook up with someone who’s even more of a joke than you are and now… _now_ it’s going to hurt our daughter and make me a laughing stock!’

‘Madeline, I didn’t mean it to—’

She slapped him across the face, hard enough that it cracked and resonated around the room, earning a physical reaction from everyone. Cullen’s face reeled to the side in accordance with the blow, but he was rigid, no stumbling back in shock. Leliana shoved Madeline back, away from Cullen.

Dorian was moving, that was definitely happening but Sera and Lana didn’t let him go anywhere near the commotion, kept him still and kept him _away_. Madeline was screaming and hitting Fenris as he dragged her out by the wrist, leading her out of the hotel room and slamming the door shut before she could get back inside.

Leliana was closest to Cullen, standing in front of him protectively, body turned towards him. Dorian watched in horrified, strangled fascination as she reached up and touched his face, something impossibly _delicate_ in her expression as tears filled her eyes. Lee placed her hand on his cheek and his larger hand covered hers. It was like they were alone, heedless of who watched their strange intimacy. She closed her eyes, fresh tears spilled down her perfect, pale skin and she pulled Cullen gently down into a half embrace, his forehead resting on her shoulder.

Dorian felt suddenly and abruptly like an interloper, an outsider. Like he should leave this _celebrity_ with his friends, people who knew him inside and out, people whose history together was both tangled and tangible.

Fenris joined them as their embrace parted and he touched Cullen’s arm gently, enquiring silently with keen eyes that searched and sought. There was a single moment when they stood in a perfect triangle, bodies each making up a side and when Fenris’s arm brushed Leliana’s, Dorian couldn’t help but think how perfectly aligned they all were, how no one could ever penetrate that triangle.

Then Cullen moved back and wiped his face, shattering the ridiculous introspection. Dorian remembered he was a _person_ , he was Cullen’s _boyfriend_ and they were in the room together. That although the world was falling apart, he was still expected to _participate_ in it.

Madeline’s hand-print was red and ugly, staining Cullen’s face, the only source of colour to be seen on his skin because he was _pale_. He was shaken to his core and Dorian had never seen him like this. Broken mix of emotions, shaky, stuttered movements.

‘I need to talk to Dorian,’ he rasped, swallowing over a lump. ‘Please.’

The _please_ was for Sera and Lana, Dorian realised. Cullen’s friends, despite arguing, despite not agreeing, they would do as Cullen asked regardless.

Lana’s hand tightened protectively and Sera muttered under her breath, ‘Dor?’

Part of him wanted them to stay, felt like they were all that was holding him up but… he knew he and Cullen needed to talk properly without the others there.

Fuck, he didn’t want to but he knew it was necessary.

‘It’s fine,’ he told them and nudged them to let him go.

‘Want us to wait outside?’

‘Uh, no,’ he said. ‘I’ll meet you in your room.’

Sera tipped her chin, looking at the others suspiciously. ‘Got your phone, yeah? Call us if you need anything.’

He nodded and tried to smile. ‘Course.’

‘OK, love you,’ she said, looking back when Lana had yet to move away from Dorian’s side. ‘ _Lan_ , let’s go.’

Lana squared her shoulders. ‘Don’t you fucking hurt him,’ she told Cullen, looking him dead in the eye, all of four foot nine, barely ninety pounds of utter chaos, but Dorian had never loved her more than in that moment.

Cullen nodded. 

Leliana was making another call as she swept out of the room, Fenris lingering last, looking between them. He seemed _sad_ , seemed almost torn.

‘I’ll be outside,’ he said, to no one in particular, and then, oh God then they were alone.

‘So,’ Dorian said after a bout of silence in the gloomy, _luxury_ suite. ‘You’re famous.’

Cullen blinked slowly. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know.’

Dorian averted his gaze, trying to hide how much that stung. ‘Guess I really am just that stupid, then.’

‘No, that’s not what I… fuck, I don’t want to do this.’

Dorian looked back quickly when his voice _broke_. When it cracked and he realised Cullen was softly crying. ‘I don’t want this to happen.’

Few moments in his life had rendered him quite so dumbstruck, but Dorian couldn’t _move_ then, couldn’t do anything beyond stare while his heart smashed out a desperate rhythm and his mind screamed at him to please, _please_ not fuck this up even worse.

’Don’t want _what_ to happen?’

Cullen’s fingertips wiped away excess tears and he looked up as if seeking strength from above, finding none.

‘You didn’t know,’ Cullen said as if telling himself. ‘All this time, and you thought I was a… a what? A promoter?’

Shame stung coldly in Dorian’s gut. ‘You don’t need to belittle me for it. I doubt anyone thinks less of me than I do of myself right now.’

‘I’m not, don’t twist it, _please_ ,’ Cullen begged. ‘Please just talk to me. I _don_ _’t_ want to lose you and I—I can see where this is headed. You’re disconnecting from me, you’re barely looking at me.’

‘I keep seeing you on that stage,’ Dorian said quietly, jaw clenched. ‘You went out that night and performed in an _arena_ and I had no idea.’

‘Dorian, I didn’t lie to you.’

‘No, you were just trying to protect me by not talking about this kind of thing.’ Dorian took a deep, shaky breath and turned away. ‘No one would blame you in this scenario, don’t worry. I’m the fucking _moron_ who can’t even listen to people talk about music. Stupidest man alive.’

‘You’re not.’

‘Oh, God, please don’t even try,’ Dorian said softly. ‘Just don’t. And besides,’ he added. ‘There’s far worse to worry about than me and my rude awakening.’

‘You matter to me.’

‘And you to me.’

Cullen moved forward when Dorian said that, perhaps emboldened. ‘Then please, _please_ don’t turn away. We can get through this together. Dorian, I’m begging you. Don’t shut me out. I can’t do this without you.’

Against all his deeply ingrained instincts, Dorian slowly faced Cullen, fingers digging into his upper arms. He felt cold and shaky, felt adrift in his own body. In shock, maybe.

Cullen was right there, beautiful as ever, perfect as ever. God, but Dorian loved him, he did. Wanted to build a life with him, wanted to be with him always…

But…

‘You’re a celebrity.’

Cullen kind of _faltered_. ‘I-I suppose. I don’t think of it like that. Think of myself as a musician, despite how _arrogant_ I’m sure it sounds, I tend to use the term—’

‘Artist,’ Dorian filled in, breath leaving him swiftly. ‘That’s what you… what you called yourself on the application.’

‘Dorian, I thought you _knew_. I told you in Prague that night we went out, the night we made the padlock but you didn’t remember the next day and then after you were hurt, I told you _again_!’

‘No,’ Dorian said hotly, clinging to what he knew. ‘That was you telling me you loved me!’

Cullen’s non-reaction sent a jolt of something sour through Dorian. Oh _God_.

‘Fucking Christ, that was you trying to tell me you were a celebrity, wasn’t it? Oh God. Oh fucking _hell_ , I can’t believe I’ve been this stupid!’

‘Don’t blame yourself, it’s not—’

‘Who else is there to blame?’

‘Me, obviously! I should have done more, I should have made sure you knew, but I swear, I really, _really_ thought you did. You came to that performance with me, you were involved in so much of what was happening, I just—'

‘That first night you didn’t go to work, that was a performance right? You missed a performance for me?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you had to do others to make up for it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So, you quite literally took me on tour with you, then?’

Cullen looked down. ‘I shouldn’t have.’

‘No, you fucking _shouldn’t_.’

‘I’m sorry.’

After a strangled beat of silence, Dorian looked around like he was just seeing everything for the first time. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ he said lightly, tone belying the maelstrom of _horror_ within. ‘I feel like this is all a dream. Like I’ll wake soon in your arms and tell you all about it.’

‘I’d give anything for that,’ Cullen uttered.

‘How famous are you?’

‘Dorian, I—’

‘Tell me.’

Jaw working, Cullen said, ‘Very.’

‘Define _very_.’

With a mildly defensive shrug, Cullen said, ‘Platinum albums, world tours, that kind of thing.’

‘Talk shows?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Collaborations with others?’ Dorian’s mind was fucking _racing_ to catch up. ‘Isabela, you performed with her, right? Recorded it in the hotel room.’

‘Yes,’ Cullen answered. ‘We sing together sometimes. That was for YouTube, she has a channel, we both do.’

Fingers digging deeper into the skin of his upper arms, Dorian managed to ask, ‘Did you ever perform with my ex?’

 _‘No_.’

‘But you knew him?’

‘I didn’t _know_ him. I met him a couple of times. We were in the same circuit sometimes but I didn’t and _don_ _’t_ know him, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.’

Cullen sounded so fucking wretched, so pained that Dorian wanted to stop, he really did, but he just couldn’t. It was coming out, all coming out now one way or another.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

Hands in his hair, Dorian screwed his eyes tight shut.

‘This can’t be happening.’

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t… I just don’t know how you didn’t realise. It’s my fault, I’m sure it is and I’m sorry for that.’

It was all Dorian could do to keep breathing. ‘Lee thinks I uploaded the photos, that I sold you out. You don’t think that, right?’

‘I don’t.’

Dorian exhaled shakily, clinging to what he could.

‘But maybe it was an accident.’

His eyes flew open, six words hitting his solar plexus like a sucker punch. ‘ _What_?’

‘Maybe,’ Cullen said slowly. ‘You uploaded more than you meant to, I don’t know. You said you did post one.’

Slowly, Dorian lowered his hands. ‘So because I posted _one picture_ , I posted them all?’

‘Don’t get angry.’

 _‘Don’t get angry_ , Cullen - look around! Everything is falling apart and you’re accusing me of what, gross negligence at best?’

‘I’m just saying maybe because you uploaded that one, the others… I don’t know, maybe your account was targeted because of it.’

‘You don’t believe me that it was Jassen?’

Cullen closed his eyes. ‘You’re upset.’

Dorian gasped. ‘You motherfucker, don’t you _dare_ gaslight me. I _know_ it was him!’

‘Fenris will look into it, but—’

‘—but _what?_ _’_

‘I think maybe you’re just blaming the newcomer. He’s expendable, he’s _there,_ easy to blame.’

‘He fucking knocked my phone out of my hands and dropped his too, he gave them back stacked on top of one another. He _did this_ , Cullen!’

‘It really doesn’t matter _who_ did it.’

‘Because you still think I did it?’

‘Not intentionally.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘I’m just trying to say that if it was you by accident, it’s OK, I don’t—’

‘Stop talking, just… shut the fuck up, I can’t be here.’

He swept past, shoving him away when Cullen reached for him. The last time he’d stormed out of a hotel, Cullen had not tried to _grab_ him, had let him go when Fenris told him to, but Dorian knew this time would be different. He made a sharp right as soon as he was out of the door, Fenris absent despite his earlier assurance, and Cullen was following him. He made for the emergency stairwell instead of the main one. Yanked the heavy door open and began to move down the stairs at relatively breakneck speed.

He had to get _away_.

‘Dorian, _Dorian,_ slow down!’ Cullen was so close behind but Dorian was faster, for once he was _fast enough_.

‘Go away.’

‘Please wait, _please_ just let me—’

Dorian stopped so abruptly that Cullen crashed into him, almost sent them both tumbling down the dangerously narrow set of metal steps, dizzying square descent that led to the base of the hotel, dark and cramped.

Cullen caught him, steadied him with one hand, the other gripping a flimsy railing and Dorian just didn’t _care_ that Cullen might have saved his life, could barely see straight he was so fucking _hurt,_ so angry it had him trembling. Years’ worth of outrage, of anger, of _pain_ and the sheer, suffocating _unfairness_ of it all had chosen now to make themselves fully known.

‘Let you _what_?’ he spat, shoving Cullen back hard. ‘Let you fix it? Go on then, fix it!’

‘I can’t fix it, but I—’

‘Oh, finally! Fucking _finally_ the great Cullen Rutherford meets a problem he can’t solve!’ Dorian shoved him again, hands right in the centre of his chest, same place he’d touched a dozen times before, same place he’d once painted with body glitter. ‘Can’t throw money at it, can’t let Fenris save you, can’t have Lee carve a path… just you, you’re all that’s left and guess what? You’re not enough to fix this! You are _not enough_!’

He shoved him again but that time, it felt like something in his own chest cracked and shattered. The first sob hit him hard, came over him like a wave breaking, nothing to be done, no way to stop it. Hands over his eyes, but it could not conceal the depth of what savage despair had him in its grip now.

‘You’re not enough,’ he repeated in a shallow, shuddering gasp. All he could see when he closed his eyes was Cullen on the red carpet, accepting awards on a stage. That _smile_. The smile he’d given to Sera and Lana when first they’d met.

The smile he’d never, not once, given to Dorian.

Dorian had his own brand of a Cullen smile and it was only for him. No one but Dorian made Cullen smile like that, no one made Cullen feel this way, so the other man had promised over and over. Dorian wished he could doubt it, wished he could poke holes in anything about Cullen then, the way others could about _him._ Question his honesty, doubt his loyalty.

‘I—I know,’ he heard Cullen say. ‘I know I’m not enough.’

Oh God, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do any of this. Was not strong enough to reach out in anything but spiteful anger, with thunderous aggression absent of trajectory that had sickly hot nausea rolling over him because… because Harry had done this exact same thing. Lashed out, hurt him, shoved him, hit him.

‘Dorian, I’m _sorry_. I am so sorry you didn’t know and I’m sorry for this, with the pictures. I love you so much, please… please just let me _try_ to be enough, I’ll do whatever you—'

‘I can’t be with you,’ Dorian choked out. ‘I just… you’re famous. You’re really truly famous and I.. I don’t know how I didn’t see it, but I know I can’t be with you if this is your life.’

‘No, no, no. _Please_ , we’ll make it work, I’ll do whatever I can to make this—'

‘Stop it.’

‘—better, just let me try, let me _try_!’

‘You can’t make this better! This is who you _are_!’

‘I’ll—I’ll stop, then.’

‘Cullen.’

‘I’ll give it up, if that’s what you want. I’ll quit. No more.’ Cullen touched him, lightly on the shoulder as if Dorian were a skittish animal instead of a sobbing, useless _shameful_ wreck. ‘We can go t-to the villa in Corsica. We can live there if you want. Go into the mountains.’ Cullen’s voice cracked. ‘You loved it there, I know you did.’

‘Please stop this.’

 _‘No_ , because you’re going to leave me and I can’t be without you now! I always told myself to let you go if that’s what you wanted, that I wouldn’t be the guy who kept you caged, who manipulated you but… Dorian, oh God, I can’t be without you. You’re everything to me. You’re my whole world. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll _be_ anything you want.’

‘You’ll always be famous.’

In a small, desperate voice, Cullen said, ‘Dorian, I thought you _knew_.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

_Stupid, ignorant, useless._

Didn’t see, can never see until it’s _too fucking late._

Didn’t see with Harry, didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know.

Stupid, weak and _broken._

‘Tell me what I can do.’

Dorian tried to laugh, wanted back the brittle, razor sharp anger but it was struggling to ignite beneath the weight of so much _blue_ , tidal wave of devastation that was only just beginning to crest.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t leave me.’

‘I can’t do this.’

‘You said that before and we—we managed, didn’t we?’

Dorian closed his eyes and forced out the words, ‘I didn’t _know_ you before. I didn’t know who you really were.’

‘Dorian, you’re the only one who _does_ know me!’

‘I’m so dumb,’ he whispered as tears spilled, hot and stinging. ‘I can’t believe I’m _this fucking dumb_ that it was right in front of me all this time. I… I just didn’t see it, didn’t _want_ to see it. Didn’t want to know because if I did, I would never let myself fall for you. Never.’

He went down a few more steps and Cullen followed.

‘Please stay with me, _please_ don’t leave!’

‘Why? You’ve got enough to deal with.’

‘I love you, Dorian, I love you so much, _please_!’ he grabbed Dorian’s hand, pulling him back but never once risking him, never making him unsafe in that dangerous place. ‘Stop _running_!’

Dorian snatched his hand back. ‘I’m not _running_ , I’m leaving! People _leave_ , all right? You can’t make me stay just because you’ve collected me. I’m not a _fan_ , I’m not a _groupie_. I want to leave, so get out of my way!’

Cullen was crying now, maybe as much as Dorian, maybe more, it was hard to tell. ‘You don’t want to leave!’

Dorian tried to shove around him. ‘Fucking _move_ , I swear to God!’

But Cullen took him by the wrists, held him there, held him tighter than he ever had before. Cullen was a man who knew his own strength, who was careful _because_ he was strong and Dorian had never feared that strength, had never once felt _panic_ when those muscles flexed… until then. ‘You love me too, I know you do!’

An old phantom fear resurfaced from Dorian’s darkest depths and the fact that it was misplaced did nothing to assuage it. ‘Get out of the _way_!’

‘I can’t do this without you, I—I _can’t_! I need you, I love you, you’re everything, _everything_ and without you, I’ll fall apart. I love you so much. Don’t leave me like this, I _know_ you love me too, _please_!’

Dorian’s ears were ringing, heart beating so fast it was almost humming and he was drowning, he was _dying_.

‘I _DON’T_ LOVE YOU!’

His scream bounced off the dark, concrete walls, echoed down the stairwell and back up again, his own fear singing in the air around him.

‘Dorian—’

‘I _don’t love you!’_ he repeated, low and lethal, absolute primal fear taking control, taking over because Cullen had been hurting him and Dorian would _not_ be hurt again. Accidental hurt or otherwise, something deep inside him refused to stand for it, took over and vowed to defend him no matter the cost. ‘Let me go or I’ll give you a fucking mark to match Madeline’s, you hear me?’

He yanked his hands _down_ , hard and swift but there was no resistance anymore. Cullen wasn’t holding him tightly, hadn’t been since he’d first screamed at him. Maybe hadn’t been hurting him at all, it was hard to tell anymore but too far gone, too late.

Too late now.

Dorian didn’t pause a single second to look back when he moved past. Knew if he did, he would falter, would run to Cullen, climb the stairs and beg, fucking _beg_ forgiveness because hurting Cullen was anathema to him, but he’d done it anyway. Hurt him back, hurt him far _worse_.

He reached the bottom floor, threw his full weight into the emergency exit and only when he tasted fresh air, the door closing heavily behind him, did he fall painfully to his knees, face in his hands.

*

It was Fenris who found him. Fenris who pulled him up and let him collapse forward into an embrace that could not be classed as a _hug,_ nowhere near it. Fenris was shorter than Dorian, slight in frame but he was stronger than him, bore the taller man’s weight easily and helped him over to the curb.

Dorian realised they were at the back of the hotel, the car park most likely. Fenris sat him down, not letting him go and then sat beside him, rubbing Dorian’s back while he cried.

‘Do you want me to tell your friends where you are?’ he asked softly and Dorian nodded, couldn’t dredge his face from his arms where they rested on his knees. He wanted to stay like this forever, curled tight, never to undulate and extend again. He wanted to find the deepest, darkest hole in the earth and crawl into it.

He wanted to die.

‘Rear exit, car park. I know, I’ll be there soon.’

Dorian looked up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘It’s OK,’ he whispered. ‘Go.’

‘Not yet.’

Thickly swallowing, Dorian managed to say, ‘He’s your friend, go to him.’

‘You’re my friend too.’

Another wave of something _awful_ rose up in Dorian’s chest, strangling him, sucking his bones into a black hole. ‘Go look after him,’ he said, drawing in a serrated breath. ‘I hurt him. He needs you.’

‘He’ll be all right, Dorian. You both will.’

‘Don’t trust Jassen, I know he did this, somehow.’

Fenris nodded, still rubbing his back. ‘I’ll always protect him. You don’t have to worry.’

Dorian started to cry again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

To his credit, Fenris made no attempt to comfort Dorian with words, with false assurances that he’d done nothing wrong. He just sat with him in the dark, in the quiet night air of the happiest place in Europe and waited for others to comfort him _better_.

He heard the doors open, heard heels on asphalt and felt small hands wrapping around him as Fenris let go, moving to stand.

‘Bring the car around,’ he said quietly, talking into his ear-piece.

‘It’s OK, we’re here,’ Sera was saying as Lana plastered herself at Dorian’s side while he cried, couldn’t stop even though he wanted to. ‘We’re here and we’ll get you home, don’t worry.’

‘Do you need—?’

‘We’ve _got him._ _’_ Sera’s voice cut over Fenris’s like a whip and Dorian wanted to tell her not to, that Fenris was kind and good, that they _all_ were, but he still couldn’t stop crying as the whole world fell apart.

He turned into Lana and hid there, hid his face in her dark hair, her skinny arms all around him and he let them guide him home.

*

In the bathroom of the Eurostar station, Dorian splashed cold water on his face but he didn’t look in the mirror, could not bear to. The girls had gone with him, stood directly behind, neither talking except to confirm things like train times. They handed him paper towels and he cupped his hands under the tap, twisting it the way Fenris had done to keep it running long enough to catch a decent amount. Clever trick.

It was cold and refreshing, but the second it hit his stomach, a violent jolt went through him that had his back rolling, nervous system ringing in warning.

‘You need to be sick?’ Lana asked quietly.

Dorian swallowed it down, hands balled tightly enough to cut into the flesh of his palm, little half-moon indents he had no interest in.

‘I’m fine,’ he lied.

*

The journey back was completely surreal. He stared out of a glass window at the darkness, unable to differentiate between night and genuine darkness, born of depth. He stared at the glass and fought for sanity, to keep himself together long enough so that he didn’t break down on a fucking _train_. Lana and Sera were beside him, Sera holding his hand. Someone rang Lana’s phone and from the way she answered it, he knew it someone they’d left behind. Fenris probably. Lana was curt and almost rude, telling whoever it was that they were on the train and not to call again.

Dorian blinked tears down his face and quietly realised he was still wearing the tracking bracelet. He looked down at it, touched the lightweight material, a kind of rubber with something running through it. A simple _Fitbit_ to the untrained eye, lifesaving device for anyone _lucky_ enough to be granted access to the Bermuda Triangle that was Cullen’s existence.

Breathing hard through his nose, he yanked the strap, finding it harder than he thought to remove but eventually it gave and after a few seconds, it was off. It beeped quietly, just once. He looked up at the top window, saw it was open barely an inch, just enough for a little bit of breeze.

Dorian stood on shaky legs and pushed the tracking device through the gap, pushing it all the way with his fingertips until it fell, lost to darkness, lost forever.

He shut the window and sat back down again, determinedly not looking at anyone.

*

Sera and Lana outright begged him not to go home. Pleaded to let them take him back to their place, anywhere but the loft he’d shared with Cullen.

But he wanted, he _needed_ to go home.

In a daze born of disconnection from reality, he fumbled for his keys before he realised he didn’t _need_ them anymore. His old door was gone and standing there at the end of the tiny hallway, lift behind them, was a great, steel thing.

‘Right,’ he said dully.

‘Just uh, just let me do it, yeah?’ Sera said, edging past. ‘They showed us how to add a fingerprint, it’s really easy.’

Dorian stared, anxiety fucking _skyrocketing_.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I need a new door.’

Sera and Lana looked at each other. ‘OK, well, that’s more of a tomorrow thing, babe. Don’t know where we’d even start at two AM.’

He looked down, shaking his head. ‘Just open it for now then.’

It didn’t help, not looking, because he still heard the exact same high pitched, pleasant little beep indicating time spent pressing. Same as Corsica, same thing Fenris had showed him.

When it opened, Sera hurried ahead and Dorian did not have the energy to tell her not to bother. He just wanted to get in his bed, nothing else mattered.

Lana walked with him, not touching him, but close at all times. It was dark inside and no one turned the lights on, but the curtains were slightly open, ambient, twinkling lights of London outside letting Dorian see where he was going, as if he wouldn’t know blindfolded.

In his bedroom, he swallowed down the abject fucking misery of _remembering_ things, ruthlessly shoved it all away. _Just sleep_ , he told himself. _You just need to sleep for now._

‘You uh, want us to sleep with you?’ Lana offered uncertainly while Sera continued doing whatever she was doing, rushing around _removing_ things, no doubt.

Dorian dropped his bag, phone inside turned very much _off_.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I just want to sleep.’

‘OK, well, we’ll be here when you wake up.’

Dorian didn’t strip off beyond kicking off his shoes and jacket, pulling back the covers and waiting until he heard the door click shut before he burrowed underneath them, no plans to ever resurface.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up the following weekend or earlier, a big chunk of it's already written.  
> Thanks for all the support. Love you all.  
> 💜💜💜


	23. Losing The Stars Without A Sky, Losing The Reason Why (Losing The Calling That You've Been Faking and I'm Not Kidding)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An earlier chapter as vaguely promised!  
> 💜💜💜

It was still dark when he awoke and he was boiling alive. Fully dressed beneath the duvet had the effect of literally super heating him and he was sweating when he kicked the covers off.

There was no delay, no bittersweet moment of confusion about where he was, where _Cullen_ was. He knew, right away. Had dreamt of nothing but that.

Dreamt of doing something different, something _better_. Of not posting that picture, of not screaming at Cullen in the stairwell. Anything but what he’d actually done.

For a little while, Dorian lay there, just breathing, staring up and remembering when he was very young, the first time he saw a large black shadow moving across the ceiling. A spider. He’d watched it move, terrified. No amount of calling out for his parents had done any good because they’d been downstairs throwing a party, the music drowning out the cries of a small child.

That was the first time Dorian killed anything. Stood up on his bed, face tear-stained, shallow shaky breaths as he threw a cushion at the ceiling, sending the spider scurrying to the floor. He’d jumped down, even more afraid of letting it escape than he was of watching it crawl above his bed. He’d squashed it with his foot, crying hysterically.

‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered to himself, there in the _now_.

There was no spider, no shadow and he had no parents. If and when a spider was stupid enough to sneak into his loft, Dorian would trap it with a glass and paper, would take it down to ground level, irritated and mildly put out before tossing it back into the mean streets of London. Stupid things.

Slowly, he sat up. His head ached as if he’d been out all night drinking. His mouth was dry as fuck and he felt weak. So very weak.

When he ran a hand through his hair, he could feel himself shaking still. No amount of rest had been able to get rid of that, nor the feel of quiet, absolute dread, settled in the centre of his being. Iron wrought certainty that nothing would ever be right again.

He closed his eyes, swapping out dark grey for pure black. His wrist felt oddly light without the tracker and his room was cold.

It was too much. Already too much and it hadn’t even sunk in yet. He did his best not to think about how this was so much worse than before. How he’d never loved Harry anywhere near as much as Cullen, how the public embarrassment was _nothing_ like this in terms of scale.

Hardiss Lilbourn hadn’t been famous _until_ Dorian’s disgrace, not really. Certainly hadn’t had a number one album.

This was different. Worse.

So much worse.

But for now, it was just about surviving. Getting through the next few moments.

Slowly, he trailed out of his room to find Sera and Lana on the sofa, fast asleep in front of the TV. It was on low, some old movie that Dorian half recognised. He looked away quickly, memories creeping in like vines. The clock in the kitchen told tales about how early it was, almost four am. Had he only slept two hours? Christ, he was _exhausted_ still.

Silently, he padded through the loft, worried to look and see but knowing he had to make himself do it. Cullen’s room was right opposite the bathroom. He knew what Sera had been doing, knew she’d probably stripped the room of his stuff, not that there had been much, in truth. Cullen travelled light, all but his guitars, of course.

Something like anger stung in the lowest part of Dorian’s lungs, making it hard to breathe. He was angry because he hadn’t seen it, angry because no one had ever taken him aside, smacked him around the head and yelled it, plain and simple. Angry that Cullen had chosen the one path in life Dorian could not follow him down.

The anger was a nice distraction, however brief. Like a flash of white hot pain instead of a constant, dull migraine. Against his better instincts, Dorian pushed against the door and went inside, turning the light on. The bed was stripped, covers probably in the wash or even chucked if Sera was being especially thorough. What few things had been Cullen’s own were gone, of course they were. His friends were good friends.

The room was barren and void, a guest room and nothing else. Maybe, if Dorian concentrated, he thought he could catch the slightest remnants of Cullen’s scent, but his friends were clever and the window was open, letting the warm, summer air of the city drift inside, permitting any lingering ghosts to venture out as well.

He looked around, willing himself to be numb, willing away the feeling that could not be accurately called _pain_ because it was so much worse. If death were a feeling, this was it. If _destruction_ were an emotion, it was swallowing Dorian whole.

Cullen’s room no more.

Dorian turned the light off as he left.

*

He emptied his bladder, he quietly showered and he changed into clothes that were his _own_ once more. When he forced himself to look in the mirror, he felt a familiar stab of hatred for the person he saw. The person who’d ruined so much with _stupidity_ , with wilful ignorance.

‘How could you not know?’ he asked himself, barely a breath behind it. ‘How?’

His reflection had no answers, only stared back with eyes that glistened dangerously. Dorian knew this feeling, some weaker variation of it anyway. He _knew_ not to entertain any kind of emotions. His grief would take any opportunity to come to the surface and once it did, it would take root, take _over_.

Shut down, it was the only option. Shut down everything and get through each moment as it came. No other choice.

When he went back into the living room, the TV was on a different channel, a little bit louder and both his friends were awake.

‘Hey, you,’ Lana greeted in her most normal voice which Dorian appreciated. ‘Shower OK?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ he said in a pretty dead on impression of himself. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘S’OK, babe,’ Sera said as he sat in the corner of the sofa. ‘You slept for ages. We didn’t wanna wake you, but glad you’re up now.’

Dorian blinked. ‘I slept through the day?’

‘Yeah, kinda.’

He tucked his legs under himself, playing with the material of his baggy joggers. ‘Right.’

‘You want… anything?’

Cullen would have offered tea. Maybe delicious things to eat. Probably kisses, too.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

Abstractly, he observed that the channel they were watching was _Gold_. The channel with all the old reruns of shows from fifty years ago, channel that never once had anything resembling something from this century on it and certainly didn’t get news updates.

It came out hollow when he asked, ‘What am I going to do?’

‘What do you _want_ to do?’

 _Die_ , he did not say, no matter how true it was.

‘I don’t know,’ he went with instead. ‘Don’t know what to do.’

‘Shall we tell you what we know?’

‘Involving what?’

‘Like, the news and shit?’

He pulled at a loose thread harder than advisable. ‘Did the story break about the—the voice messages?’

‘Not yet, no.’

He looked up sharply, was met with a pair of earnest stares. ‘Really?’

‘We’ve been checking. Twitter verse thinks there’s a gag order in place because the messages were nicked illegally.’

 _Leliana_. 

‘OK,’ he said slowly. ‘What about the pictures?’

‘They’re still around.’

‘What are people saying?’

‘I mean, mostly they’re fangirling. It’s… well, he’s a big deal.’

‘What are people saying about _me_?’

‘Dor, you don’t need to know this.’

‘Tell me.’

Sera sighed. ‘It’s troll shit. Sayin’ you leaked them to re-up your fame or whatever the fuck.’

‘People think I did it?’

‘Some. Mostly people think it’s a hack.’

‘It was _Jassen,'_ he said very quietly, throat constricting. ‘Madeline’s boyfriend. I know it.’

‘Well, whoever it was, they’ve covered their tracks. Your uh, y’know, the bodyguard has contacted us twice. Once to ask where to send your stuff and once to tell you that he’s still looking into this guy, _Jassen_ , but so far, nothing.’

Dorian kept himself neutral. ‘Was that all?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Nothing from… anyone else?’

The girls looked at each other. ‘We’ve been screening unknown numbers, but we uh, we checked your phone for _his_ number, and no, he hasn’t called either of us.’

Sickness lurched horribly. ‘You checked my phone.’

‘Just to get his number, nothing else. We put it on charge and turned it off again. Didn’t read nothing.’

His eyes itched. ‘Where’s his stuff?’

‘In a box by the door.’

‘I covered it with a coat,’ Lana explained helpfully.

‘OK.’ He took a deep breath, looking out at the skyline. The sun would be rising soon. ‘So, how bad is it?’

‘Whacha mean?’

‘Like, if I go out to get milk, am I going to be mobbed?’

‘We already got you some milk,’ Sera said. ‘And I wouldn’t recommend you go out for a while.’

‘Are there people outside?’

‘No, but they’re around. We’ve both been approached by lowlife reporters.’

Dorian forced a smile. ‘Sold me out, did you?’

‘Oh yeah, easiest five grand I ever made,’ Sera said, rolling her eyes. ‘Cheeky git.’

He wished he felt any part of the small laugh he huffed out.

Lana’s smile did not come so easily, it wobbled and she bit her lips into her mouth, eyes turning glassy.

‘Dor,’ she said. ‘I was thinking. Maybe we could go stay with my family.’

‘In Ireland?’

‘It’s really remote. They don’t even get TV there, I think.’

Dorian looked out at London, at the world of vipers waiting for him. Of the _online_ universe, of TV people saying his name. He was gossip now, _again_. Worse this time. So much worse.

‘Maybe,’ he said, but didn’t really let himself consider it. Travelling would always remind him of Cullen.

God, what _wouldn't_ remind him of Cullen?

‘I don’t think I can do this,’ he whispered, shaking his head.

‘Do what?’

‘Get over him. I don’t…’ his throat stuck horribly and he tried to swallow over the building lump. ‘I can’t even really feel it yet. It’s here.’ Dorian touched his heart, pressed where he’d guided Cullen’s hand to feel his truth. ‘But it’s behind _glass,_ waiting. I don’t think I can survive it.’

‘Just get through each moment one at a time,’ Sera said firmly. ‘We’re here, we’ll be here for whatever you need.’

‘You have to work,’ he pointed out dully, blinking tears down his face that he couldn’t even feel.

‘We can get by.’

Dorian hitched his knees close to his chest, needing to feel small, feel _contained_. He rested his cheek on his knee and closed his eyes.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For being my friends.’

‘Don’t have to thank us,’ Lana told him fiercely. ‘An’ we’re gonna get through this, I fucking swear it.’

He nodded slowly, much as he could in such a position.

‘I’m making tea,’ Sera said in a weird voice, forcibly normal but most definitely a bit strangled. ‘You sure you don’t want one, babe?’

‘Yeah, go on,’ Dorian said slowly, distantly. ‘I’ll have one, thanks.’

‘OK, great.’

It wouldn’t be Cullen’s perfect tea, but the sooner Dorian started accepting little things like that, the better.

*

As the sun rose, they made a plan.

Granted, it was a terrible fucking plan, but a plan nonetheless.

Dorian felt cast adrift, cut off from anything _real_ and so he understood. They were trying to anchor him, to ground him. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up, but they wouldn’t allow that and he respected them for it. Loved them even.

He was just so _tired_.

The plan was to exist, to be alive. It involved little projects like eating, drinking water, breathing. It involved talking with them both _while_ eating, drinking water and whatever other shit they’d Googled, or maybe remembered from the last time his life fell so spectacularly apart.

‘I really think I’m OK,’ he said at one point, somewhere around mid-morning. They’d both stared at him then, not hard stares, not angry glares. They simply didn’t believe him and it was plain.

He drank Sera’s awful tea and when he opened the fridge at midday, he saw nothing but empty shelves. He laughed then and realised it was back to beans on toast. Back to eating crap, shitty meals that had hardly any taste.

As he stood at the fridge, holding the door, something fucking _monstrous_ came for him. A physical rolling sensation that stole his ability to breathe and all because he realised that last night, or the night before even, they’d broken their _streak_.

The streak of Cullen making Dorian wonderful things for dinner or sometimes Dorian having a go himself, but always one of them making dinner for the other.

Gone now, broken.

 _Broken_.

‘You OK?’ Sera asked warily.

Dorian closed the door, ruthlessly ignoring the rumbling of his empty stomach. ‘Fine.’

‘You’re hungry? We can make—’

‘No, no thanks.’

*

He made it through that first day by the sheer effort of his friends and nothing else. He stayed conscious only because they were there, moving around, busy doing stupid little projects he’d long been putting off like fixing the wonky cupboard door, sewing the zip on the sofa cushion. They were busy and noisy and they were all that kept Dorian _there_.

But as soon as the sun set, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

‘You can’t go to bed,’ Sera said and it sounded like this was a conversation she’d been dreading. ‘You haven’t eaten all day.’

‘I’ll eat tomorrow,’ he promised, so tired it was making him dizzy. ‘I need to sleep or I’ll keel over.’

‘It’s OK,’ Lana said softly, nodding at Dorian. ‘Go to sleep, honey.’

Sera sighed, internalised her argument and Dorian didn’t say anything else, simply crashed into his bed and slept.

*

Things were both better and worse the next day. Better because he didn’t wake up feeling exhausted, was no longer hosting a brass band in his head and he wasn’t trembling quite so much. It was daylight outside, good indicator that he’d slept for a decent amount of time.

But he was starting to _feel_ things and that… that was bad.

Dorian awoke with the immediate urge to burst into tears. Cullen’s absence was a sensation, a real live thing inside him, negative space he couldn’t avoid or ignore. He wanted Cullen, he burned for him. He wanted to call him, to talk to him, listen to all his promises to make everything _all better_. He wanted to run away with Cullen back to the mansion, live there always. Toss his phone, cut off the internet and just _live_.

He wanted it so much his body _hurt_ , every nerve ending screaming for those strong arms to be wrapped around him.

But he couldn’t have that.

So, Dorian made his own tea that morning, better than Sera’s botched attempt, but he made it the _old_ way, not Cullen’s weirdly brilliant way. It didn’t taste right but that didn’t matter, did it? Tea was tea.

True to his word, he ate half a slice of toast and pulled the other half apart, grossly ashamed of how easy it was to utilise old habits and make it _seem_ like he’d eaten more than he really had. It was necessary, though. The headache was gone and so were the rolling tremors, but he still felt sick. Felt like he’d been diagnosed with a terminal fucking illness, like he’d never be happy again.

‘Go to work,’ he told them. ‘I’ll be fine here.’

‘I already quit,’ Lana replied casually, heating up tinned ravioli in the microwave. ‘Fuckin’ hated that job.’

‘And I’m not due in till tomorrow night,’ Sera said. ‘So, _no_ , you’re not getting rid of us just yet.’

He didn’t have the energy to feign outrage, was just grateful they were there.

In the afternoon, he slowly built up the strength to turn his phone on. He knew it was the first step towards ever getting back to normal, no matter how much he was dreading it.

‘We can do it,’ Lana offered repeatedly. ‘You can tell us what to do and we’ll do it.’

‘No thanks,’ he said, holding the phone, still turned off. ‘I need to do this myself.’

Alone in his bedroom, he turned it on and waited for the thing to come alive. As he waited, he took a few deep breaths.

One by one, his notifications began to blow up. It was already silenced, had been since that first comment days ago, so it made no noise, but he had _thousands_ of notifications and not just stupid fucking _Instagram_ shit. He had messages, emails, texts. Missed calls in the hundreds.

He wished he didn’t know where to begin, but he did.

In the _Instagram_ app, he accessed his account, which had nineteen thousand followers. There, he methodically went through each picture, deleting them one at a time. Every time he deleted one, he saw the top few comments. Saw what people thought of Cullen Rutherford in an unguarded moment, painted up with body glitter, or kissing Dorian and smiling. The majority of the comments were benign. Things like, _“Beautiful couple”, “Holy fucking shit!”_ and _“Next thing I knew, I was pregnant”_ but some were malicious. Teasing. Dorian stared hard at those, resisted the temptation to scroll down and read more. Most of the vitriol was aimed at Dorian himself. Snide little quips relating to the YouTube thing, clever plays on words that related to _Fully Charged._

Some were about Cullen.

Some were _awful._

Dorian deleted the pictures, wiped away tears and did his best to remove the source of all the bad, even though it was ridiculous. The pictures had been screenshotted, immortalised on the internet forever. There would be memes, there would be comments and rumours. Speculation, cruelty and _debate_. Support and low energy, casual spite. Reddit. Fan art. _#IStandWithCullen_

That kind of shit.

When they were all deleted, he deactivated the account and then went into his email, ignored every single message there and got rid of them in bulk. Select all, _delete_. It was a familiar process, removing himself from the world. He hated that he knew what to do.

When it came to the text messages, though, he stopped.

There were hundreds, literally hundreds. Mostly from unknown mobile numbers. _“Dorian, we’d love to hear your side of things and get your story across in your own words. Call us anytime,”_ followed by the name of whatever _rag_ was attempting to court him. But there were also messages from Cullen, from Fenris and even a few from Alistair.

The pain behind the glass was building, pushing, cracking the walls that held it at bay.

He read Alistair’s first. There were three.

**Man, I am so fucking sorry. Call me if you need anything xxx**

**I have a friend who deals with these sorts of things. If you need legal advice, I'’ll sort it xxx**

**You're a great guy, you don’t deserve any of this. Call me whenever, for any reason. I can be there in under an hour xxx**

Dorian read and re-read those messages until he felt the oh so familiar sting of tears, the conversation about the rule of text kisses swirling around with a dozen other memories that seemed like a distant dream. It would have been lovely to see Alistair in any other circumstances, but for now, he couldn’t bear the idea of it. Knew Alistair was a conduit, a connection that could not be permitted.

But he did reply. Made himself type out a quick, _Doing OK, but thank you. You're fucking amazing, wish you all the best xxx_

Fenris’s messages were both perfunctory and concise, more or less what Dorian expected and he read them quickly.

**Nothing yet on Jassen. You still have things here. Legal case against the release of the message is ongoing, but positive so far. You might be called upon to confirm ownership of the messages.**

**I'm your friend, too. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.**

Dorian stared for a while at the last message, at the four words that had his breath trembling in his chest. Fenris being his friend would mean being in Cullen’s _bubble_. Dorian knew he meant well, but it was unthinkable.

He sent back, _You were a great friend, thank you. Please don't contact me again, though. Good luck with everything._

And saving the worst for last, he opened Cullen’s messages, all _sixteen_ of them. The timestamps indicated he’d started messaging Dorian pretty much as soon as he’d left, maybe an hour or so afterwards and then each following was spaced roughly an hour or so between.

Sensation not unlike a hand gripping his heart, Dorian made himself read them.

**I'm so sorry xxx**

**I know you didn't mean what you said, I know you love me, Dorian. I’ve fucked this up and I’ll do whatever I can. If that means time and space, then that’s what I’ll give you. I love you so much. I will fix this xxx**

**We're doing everything we can to control the damage. Lee might have found a way to prevent the messages from running. I’m so sorry, love you so much. Please just let me know if you’re OK xxx**

**I should have done more to make it clear, I know this is my fault. I hate this, I'd do anything to make it right xxx**

**The story won't be running tomorrow. Establishing legal ownership of the photo’s is in progress. I love you so much. Please. Please just let me know you’re home safe xxx**

**Your phone is off and I know how fucking crazy this will look when you turn it on but I can't stop. I’m trying to keep it together, but I miss you so much already. Feel like I can’t breathe. Whatever you need, I’ll give you, you know that, but I just wish I could do something more xxx**

**I don't blame you for leaving. I don’t blame you for any of this. You were hacked because of who I am. All this is because of me. I don’t blame you xxx**

**Fenris says I need to stop messaging you but I can't. I miss you so much, I feel like someone cut a hole in my chest. I can’t think straight, I keep looking around for you but you’re not here. Please don’t do this, I will give everything up. It means nothing to me. I will do whatever you want, Dorian. Please. Xxx**

**Gag order is in place for now, but the story could still leak. Doing everything we can, I promise xxx**

**I still have your things. I'll give them to you when I see you, maybe xxx**

**Please just talk to me, I would never ignore you like this. I feel like I** **’m dying. Please xxx**

**Sorry, I keep saying please like a broken record. I don't mean to keep repeating myself. Love you xxx**

**So this is probably a stupid question, but everyone keeps saying we're broken up. We’re not, right? I’m sorry I froze up, I know I should have come after you but I didn’t know what to do. I should have done more, should have been better. You’re completely right, I wasn’t enough. You’re angry at me and you have every right to be so, this is all my fault, but please, just drop me a text, a single word to tell me that I can fix this, somehow, at some point xxxx**

**I can't do this without you xxxxx**

**I'm just begging now and I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have so I’m going to stop. I’m here and I’ll do anything to make this better. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Dorian xxx**

**I love you so much xxx**

Jaw clenched tight, tears free-flowing, Dorian looked away from the screen. It was worse than anything. Unbearable to the extent that he had to shut it out or face the collapse of what little support structures he clung to.

It was all so typically Cullen, so fucking familiar that Dorian felt it as if each word was being spoken in that voice he loved, voice the whole world loved, apparently. Even hearing about what Leliana and Fenris were doing was _agony._ Freshly ousted by choice, but he was an outsider now, no doubt about it.

And he knew he had to reply, like he had with the others. The last message Cullen had sent was over a day ago, but he _knew_ Cullen. Knew he’d be checking and rechecking his phone over and over.

Slowly, trembling fingers making a mess of his words, he began to write. He did his best to numb himself, to promise that after this, he could genuinely toss the phone, draw a line under the whole thing.

He told himself that while he cried, while he spoke to Cullen for the last time.

When it was done, longer than he’d intended, he stared at the tiny blinking line at the end of his message asking if he’d like to add anything else. It would be undeniably counterintuitive to put kisses, but it would be kind too. It would lessen the blow of what he’d said. Could end it on a better note. Cullen had shown him nothing but kindness the entire time they’d known each other.

Tears spilled continuously, face wet and lungs tight. He typed three kisses and looked at the message as a whole. Read back every word, deleted mistakes where he’d made them, polished his cold finality and then, swallowing hard, deleted the kisses too. It wasn’t kindness to give Cullen false hope, not really. Better to be cruel, to be _clear_.

He sent it before he could change his mind. Waited a few seconds so it well and truly sent and then he deleted it. Deleted everything. Deleted Cullen’s number, all his numbers. Deleted every single picture in his _Gallery_. Uninstalled every application. Reset the phone to factory settings and removed the SIM card too.

In the bathroom, he ran the hot tap, let it run for a long time until steam filled the room and then he dropped the tiny little thing down the sink, watched it swirl and then vanish.

Dorian wanted it to feel _done_ , like he’d promised himself. Wanted it to feel better somehow. Final.

All he felt was pain.

‘You OK?’ Lana asked softly from outside. ‘We’re making sausage and eggs for dinner, that all right?’

He started to run the bath. ‘I’m good and sure, sounds great.’

Maybe it was the strangled quality of his voice, maybe the sheer amount of steam likely wafting under the bathroom door, but Lana’s response took a long time.

‘Right, well. Maybe open the door a bit, yeah? Don’t wanna turn the room into a sauna.’

The joke was thin, but Dorian didn’t resent her for checking on him, for requesting that he leave the door open. He’d do the same, were their positions reversed. Had he been the one to find _her_ on the floor last year.

‘OK,’ he said, unlocking the door and opening it. She was standing there with an armful of fresh towels.

‘Here,’ she offered quietly, eyes moving over him, assessing. It reminded him of Cullen too much so he looked away, taking the towels.

‘Thanks. Uh, could you do me a favour?’

‘Sure.’

‘Can you sell my phone? Might get twenty quid for it or whatever.’

‘You don’t want a phone?’

‘There’s a spare one in the drawer.’

‘The one that doesn’t even have a camera?’

He laughed hollowly. ‘It makes calls, that’s all that matters.’

‘OK. You want me to get any numbers from this one?’

‘Uh, no. Only two I need are yours anyway.’

Lana blinked and took the phone. ‘All right.’

‘I’ll leave the door open,’ he promised and turned back to the bath, unable to see the sadness in her eyes. His own pain was unbearable as it was, let alone someone else’s.

When the bath was two thirds full, he added a splash of cold so it didn’t scald him, but he left it as hot as he possibly could. He stripped off and slowly lowered himself into it, skin stinging and throbbing until he was fully submerged, water hovering dangerously close to the top. He laid back, letting the heat remove what pain it could. Soothed the physical ache in his bones and muscles, but didn’t come close to soothing anything else.

He reclined, the hard surface digging uncomfortably between his neck and back, and stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. As the water sped up his heart, scalded his skin, he failed completely in his endeavour to _not_ think about Cullen getting his text. How many times the man would read it, over and over.

How he’d feel, seeing that. What he’d do.

Dorian knew what he would do. He’d turn to Fenris, to Leliana. He’d let them comfort him. They would help him, they would make it better because they loved him. Josie would fix this and spin it into a million pounds worth of free publicity. She’d protect his image. Leliana would keep the messages out of the news, iron clad gag order to hand. Fenris would protect Cullen from Jassen, from anyone who dared get near him with dark intentions.

Cullen would be fine. That was what Dorian told himself as he slipped beneath the surface of the hot water, sending it spilling over the sides.

Cullen would be _fine_.

*

A week slipped by without his consent or true understanding of how quickly time could pass when existing in a blurry, denial-fuelled haze. He ate and he drank, he kept himself going in terms of furthering his existence and though he did nothing beyond that, the time moved _fast_. Dorian felt almost alarmed when Sera told him it had been a week.

A week since he’d had a boyfriend.

A week since he’d been happy.

And he had been _so_ happy.

Fuck, but it was far to fall. A great, gruesome height complete with a landing he still couldn’t quite _feel_ yet, but it was there. Fracture in his bones, but he wasn’t _moving_ yet so it wasn’t plain.

He caught Lana and Sera watching _This Morning_ and didn’t hear himself or Cullen mentioned once, though they both turned the TV off as soon as they saw him.

‘It’s dying down,’ Lana told him later, buttering his toast.

Dorian nodded, but didn’t believe her. TV was not a true indicator of these things. The internet was a place of putrid perpetuity. Of retweets and links. _Comments_.

At some point, someone had dropped his things off and collected the box with Lana’s coat over it. Dorian had not asked who, though he managed to convince himself it was one of Leliana’s assistants. Sera opened the suitcase, a brand new one with no tags. Something plain and black, bought especially for him because he’d been sharing Cullen’s suitcase for the duration of their… well, relationship.

He’d gone through it himself. Phone charger for a phone he no longer had. Clothes that were paid for by others. Jeans that Cullen had pulled by the belt loops, drawing Dorian near to kiss him while they walked around Disneyland together. One thing was very obviously missing. His shirt, the one Cullen had performed in. The rest of it was all there, though. Even his almost empty pots of body glitter.

When he realised he couldn’t actually keep any of it, he felt the urge to cry again, but it was becoming easier to control as time went on. Numbness was like a disease and it spread rapidly, taking hold, taking _root_ within.

‘Chuck it all,’ he said, dumping it back in the suitcase, stark contrast to how beautifully it had been folded.

The girls sold most of it. A lot of things were still new with tags on. That ridiculous shopping spree in Sardinia bore fruit on _Shpock_ and _Vinted_. Dorian did not begrudge them, knew that money - which had never been plentiful - had to be verging on desperate now. Lana had indeed quit her job, hardly ever left the loft and while Sera still worked, it wasn’t enough to support the three of them, not while still paying rent on their old place together.

Money, reality, the _world;_ all the things that had not mattered with Cullen, it all came crawling back. Inevitable tide returning to the shore after so long at sea.

He knew they’d kept one or two things, hidden away from him. The most expensive items, he supposed. The suit was definitely one of them.

Dorian did everything he could not to think about that day. Cullen taking his hand, excitedly pulling him around, picking out things he thought Dorian would like. As they were fitted for suits that had been sent to Corsica when finished, untouched and flawless, hanging plastic in the walk in wardrobe downstairs, place where they’d all kept their clothes because they were people who shared everything.

Tried not to think about it and failed.

Because while it might have been possible to suppress the pain in a limited fashion, enough to survive at least, there was no way to stop thinking about Cullen. About all of them. He fucking _missed_ them. He missed breakfast together, he missed _dinner_. He missed the fast pace and the efficient, clever way they lived their lives. He missed the luxuries he’d bemoaned at the time. Missed the freedom of waking up and wondering, always a little excitedly, what they would do that day.

Now, when he woke he knew exactly what his day would entail and there was nothing exciting about it.

Sometimes, at unexpected moments, a strange kind of sickness would hit him like a gut punch. He’d be sitting perfectly still and out of nowhere, the need to purge would come upon him. It was like intermittent illness, absent one moment, raging the next. Sometimes he was hot, sometimes he was confused. One of the girls was always there, though. Rubbing his back, talking him through it.

One night, he heard them talking on the phone to someone. Angry, quiet tones betraying whose circle of friends this _person_ belonged to.

‘ _He's not fine,’_ they’d told this person, who Dorian guardedly allowed himself to think might have been Fenris. _‘And he ain’t gonna be for a while, so stop fucking calling!’_

_*_

At the end of the week, Lana casually asked if he wanted to go for a walk with her that night. Dorian reeled like she’d slapped him, the question so ridiculous, it made him want to laugh.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head, chuckling in a weird way. Didn’t sound like himself. ‘No, thanks.’

*

The second week was built on the backbone of that rapidly stabilising numbness and though Dorian loosely considered it progress, he knew his friends did not. Again, he couldn’t blame them. Knew if their positions were reversed, he’d be pushing them for a reaction. To grieve, to let it all out. Cathartic release and then move the fuck _on_ , because life was short, too short to waste walking around like a reanimated corpse.

He also knew, as things like _time_ slowly started to make sense again, that this was the week he would probably have gone to Coachella with Cullen. He tried to take comfort in that, in thinking about how, had he gone with his then boyfriend, there was no way the stupid _misunderstanding_ could have continued past that point. Seeing Cullen perform on a stage before thousands _might_ just have done the trick, Dorian sourly mused.

It was during that same week that he opened his laptop, went into Spotify and fell into a black hole of abject self-destruction, downloading Cullen Rutherford’s albums.

 _Albums_ , because there were four.

He went through them chronologically, applying method to his madness and listened to the song right at the top of that first album; a song called _Smile For Me_.

It was a shock to his system, that first song. Who the fuck was he kidding, it was a shock to his system just seeing the _cover_. Dark and shadowy, Cullen in black and white as the singer looked away, but it was still _him_. Undeniably Cullen.

He played the song. First few seconds of a pretty guitar riff, plain and clean and then… oh God, then Cullen was singing. Not _quite_ the voice Dorian had heard in person; that gorgeous, hypnotic thing he’d clearly cultivated throughout the years. This was Cullen at a young age, somewhere in his mid-twenties, judging by the year of the album. It was sweet and very bare, full of sadness and beauty and Dorian felt like he was _dying_ , he really did.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

This was a form of self-harm, no two ways about it.

He made it through that first album, through all eleven songs of _Free Run_ and had to stop after that. Shut the laptop, ran a bath, made it hot and stayed there until he couldn’t feel his skin.

‘Is he performing at Coachella?’ he asked them later that night, staring down at the plate on his lap, small portions ensuring he didn’t feel too bad about eating hardly anything.

‘What?’

Dorian cleared his throat, hadn’t spoken much that day. ‘Is he, y’know. Doing Coachella?’

Sera looked away first, scooping up her spaghetti hoops with the ease born of familiarity. ‘Dunno, babe.’

But she was lying and he knew it.

‘Lana?’

She sighed, looking down. ‘I don’t think he is, no.’

Dorian swallowed hard. Should not have asked.

Cullen was _fine_.

‘Thanks.’

*

In bed that night, he listened to the second album, _Black Books,_ played a game with himself, vicious and ruthless. Tried to get through each song without having some sort of physical reaction. He failed every time. It was during this album that he began to hear the emergence of the Cullen he knew, the man who’d smiled for a pub full of people, who sang confidently and easily because he was a professional, a fucking superstar. Posed with _fans_ , signed autographs.

Held Dorian’s hand without thinking about it.

Kissed him in public.

Loved him.

 _Loved_ him well enough to ruin him for anyone else, ever again.

There was a song in that album that struck Dorian hard; jarring mix of emotions that was halfway between a knife in his ribs and a fucking marriage proposal. Cullen did not _know_ Dorian then, not when he wrote this, but the song could have been written about him. Could easily be about him, the _Dorian_ of years ago when he’d been under Harry’s thrall. Like all of Cullen’s songs, an undertow of bittersweet sadness was ever present, but in this, there was also a vein of anger, of righteousness that called out to Dorian.

The others were more upbeat, the kind of thing that could have been played on the radio. Two songs, Dorian was mildly horrified to realise, were ones he _recognised_ , albeit abstractly. The kind of thing where the riff and chorus were familiar, but nothing else.

He let himself feel the full extent of how stupid he’d truly been. Over and over he tormented himself, bullied himself.

‘You didn’t _want_ to see it,’ he muttered, quietly disgusted when he closed the laptop.

*

‘You’re losing weight,’ Sera told him and he nodded, didn’t know what she expected him to _do._ He never wanted to eat because eating had been something he did with Cullen. A whole relationship built around food, around healthy, happy eating. Dorian hadn’t realised just _how much_ Cullen had cooked for him, not until it was gone. Nothing tasted good, he never had an appetite.

He was depressed. Knew the signs, knew what it meant to be tired and listless, to want only to sleep and cry. To feel an ache in his bones and to detest the daylight hours. He only felt safe at night, could only breathe when the sun went down.

It was all familiar, just on an unprecedented scale.

His friends were his guardians. Fierce sentinels of his privacy and they took this role seriously. One of them was always there. He had no idea how they were paying for _their_ place as well as propping him up. He hoped they’d made a decent amount of money from the clothes, but deep down he knew that couldn’t have stretched far enough to keep them afloat for more than a week.

It had been three weeks and Dorian did not yet have the courage to listen to Cullen’s third album, _Heart of Ninety Eight._ The album waited for him, sat untouched in his playlist.

Three weeks and he knew, deep down, he was no better than the moment he’d collapsed outside the hotel. He couldn’t find anything inside him willing to get _up_ , to pull himself to a metaphorical stand. Living each day was just _exhausting._ He told himself when it was better, he’d try harder. When it was easier to breathe, he would put more effort in.

He told himself a lot of things.

*

Life went on. The world didn’t stop turning, no matter how much Dorian begged. Hiding himself away with nothing but incremental progress to show for it, he wasn’t bringing the world to a grinding halt, it was simply spinning without him. Life went on and it would pass him by if he didn’t join in at some point. He knew this. He knew everything because these were lessons learnt previously.

People had their hearts broken every day. Not all of them got to lay around sleeping whenever they liked, not everyone had friends to take care of them. It went against everything in his body the day he asked Sera for the number of his old boss in River Island. She Googled the store number and watched him dial it himself from his ancient phone with enormous trepidation.

The call was mentally draining. Talking to someone who required airs and graces, who required him to sound _normal_ , that was a hardship but Dorian pressed on. His old boss, a grumpy arse who would have been better suited to managing a rickety pot shed as opposed to a sleek modern clothes shop, was patently astonished to hear from him.

Dorian asked if he could have his job back and the gap of silence was so long that he wondered if that call had dropped out. The man explained in a thin voice that he’d been replaced but he added that if anything came up, he’d call him right away. He then apologised for his harsh tone that day and reaffirmed he hadn’t meant to fire Dorian.

A sly, sharp part of Dorian was already mentally calculating the damage that might have been averted, had that little _misunderstanding_ been made evident. Had Dorian not been fired, there would have been no afternoon drinking, no body glitter. Cullen wouldn’t have missed that first performance and from there, a tangled web of events that simply wouldn’t have _happened_ without that point of origin.

He briskly thanked him and hung up, imagining (not for the first time) Cullen casually looking at Dorian one day and saying, _‘By the way, you know I’m a famous singer, right?’_

And Dorian, who would _not_ be irrevocably in love with Cullen then, might have frowned, might have said, _‘Are you? What, like, really famous?’_

Maybe Cullen would have laughed. Might have shown him things. Proof positive and Dorian would have had a _choice_ then. Go no further, decide if proximity to someone in this much limelight was dangerous and unhealthy or… or choose to proceed, but secure in the knowledge of what he was getting into.

It wasn’t true, what he’d told Cullen in the stairwell. He _would_ have fallen for him regardless. Whirlwind tour or not, mansion or not, he was falling in love with Cullen from pretty much their first night as roommates.

But he deserved to _know_.

‘It go OK?’ Sera asked.

Dorian shook himself, looked up with a smile. ‘Yeah, fine. He replaced me, obviously, but uh. He said if anything comes up he’ll let me know.’

‘Hey,’ Lana said. ‘I think I might have something.’

Sera snorted. ‘Better not be chlamydia again.’

‘Go fuck yourself with a broom handle,’ Lana flung back, barely paying attention to the insult. ‘Your friend, the one with the big hat, he works from home doesn’t he?’

‘Yeah,’ Sera agreed, brow rumpling as she considered. ‘He does. Works with a headset. Ideal for him, he’s on the spectrum, doesn’t like to be around people too much. I could ask him what he does, see if there’s any work going?’

The urge to go back to bed and hide under the covers was powerful, but like much else lately, Dorian pushed through it. They needed money, he was sure they did.

‘That’d be great, thank you.’

*

It was a strange moment in his life to check his bank balance with utmost _dread,_ realise that dread was misplaced and then instantly be overcome with fiery, choking _rage_ upon seeing money that had no business being there.

He’d been expecting the account to be horribly overdrawn but when he finally logged in on his laptop, he saw there was almost four grand in the account. He didn’t need to wonder, didn’t need to ask himself where it had come from.

‘You fucker,’ he muttered.

Cullen had paid rent. Had _been_ paying rent the entire time they were away because of course he was, but he’d also paid for a whole month last week, too. Dorian’s fingers tapped out a manic rhythm, acidic anxiety bubbling up and churning together with indignant fury. He stared at the numbers, at the ridiculous amount of money that Cullen had no right paying even if they _were_ roommates, London or not.

When he clicked on the most recent transaction, the reference said, _final payment._ As if that made it any better. As if that made him less angry.

Something spiteful and childish inside him yearned to send it back, send it all back but that was a level a pettiness that led to bad places and he was _trying,_ trying to get better. Trying to be strong, no matter how good it would feel to be petty and impulsive. Things like that would only lead to him trying to _contact_ Cullen, finding him, screaming at him.

He hadn’t realised just how _much_ he wanted to do that until the desire manifested fully.

It was a great, yawning _need._ He wanted to see Cullen again.

There were things he had to say. Questions he wanted answered.

But beneath those perfectly logical reasons, valid requests that hardly anyone would deny he was entitled to, the glass was cracking all over. Spiderweb of ever-increasing fragility, only just holding. The emotion beneath it was unthinkable and he knew, he just _knew_ that if he saw Cullen, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Because he loved him.

He _still_ loved him.

He would always fucking love him.

He couldn’t send a snippy, cutting message like he wanted and he wasn’t proud enough to send the money back, not when he knew Sera and Lana badly needed it, so he did nothing. Transferred the money to Sera’s account and then, as punishment for his weakness and for simply being who he was, he opened Spotify and started playing Cullen’s third album.

*

On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he told himself that tomorrow would be better. That the next day would bring strength and he’d feel less like he was dying. It would ease. It would fade. This too shall pass.

He didn’t cry, hadn’t _cried_ since that day even though tears spilled from his eyes sometimes when everything was too much. He never let himself cry because he was afraid if he started, he might not stop. It was frightening, the feelings inside him. It made him afraid and that fear held back the worst of his pain, but only just.

Mornings came and the promises he’d made himself last night about feeling _better_ , most times they shattered. Disappointing lies but he always made fresh promises the next night.

He wasn’t going to give in. He couldn’t.

He fucking _wouldn't_.

*

‘It’s been a month,’ Dorian said, fingers around his cup of tea long since cold. He said it aloud but wasn’t really expecting a reaction. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, when his friends looked up at him from the object of their attentions, one of those adult colouring books they’d gotten for him but had ended up becoming obsessed with themselves. Sera put down her neon highlighters and Lana left alone her pastels, the pair regarding him with something like wary hope.

‘Yeah,’ Lana said gently. ‘It has.’

Dorian closed his eyes, fighting to control what was shaking within and he said, ‘I miss him.’

The small admission, tiny obvious statement of fact that came as no shock to his friends, it _wrenched_ his heart. Twisted it around in a semi-circle. Just admitting that aloud was painful because there was so much _more_ beneath it, desperate to come out, to come crashing over him. It was a deluge, it was a fucking _river_ and if he let the dam burst, it would crush him, no two ways about it, but…

But it had been a month.

They deserved something.

Sera reached over the table, took his hand.

‘We know, babe.’

He couldn’t add anything more, didn’t dare. Squeezed his friend’s hand and nodded, returning to the safety of his lukewarm tea, retreating once more.

*

They never talked about him in front of Dorian but he heard things sometimes. Little slips when he would pad to the bathroom at night, the living area dark but for the cool blue glow of their phones, only time they used them. Low voices, flat tones and he just knew they were talking about Cullen. The strain of disapproval, quiet, mild anger.

He _knew_ , but he didn’t ask, couldn’t. Cullen was fine. Cullen was absolutely fine. He had amazing friends. He had support. He had teams, resources, money. He was strong. He’d survived worse. He was _fine._

Dorian needed him to be fine.

So he left him in the _Fine_ box and didn’t think on it, ignoring the niggling curiosity to see how much better Cullen was doing than him. It was better this way, essential really.

He was due to start working from home in the next few days. A deeply strange boy in his earlier twenties had come round with a box and in that box was a very clean, but well used headset and folder. The boy, who was indeed the owner of the most enormous sun hat Dorian had ever seen, had pale blonde hair and eyes that didn’t linger on anything or anyone. Cole, as Sera had introduced him.

‘You need this more than me,’ he’d told Dorian, handing him the box before looking around the loft, softly humming all manner of pretty nonsense.

‘I don’t want to take your job,’ Dorian said with a frown, looking to Sera for guidance but she didn’t seem fazed and the boy only smiled at the kitchen, fingers playing an invisible piano.

‘No,’ Cole said, calm and untouchable. ‘My job is words and the depth they carve into those who took the time to learn them. Money is not life, a _job_ is not a calling. Sera was teaching me about capitalism before your second sadness.’

Dorian looked down into the box, working to ignore the sour stab of guilt he felt at how much he disrupted people’s lives.

‘Well,’ he said quietly. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘You appreciate much,’ Cole told him, dreamy and removed from reality. ‘It is hard to feel things so deeply, I know. Breaths cut through skin, words bruise deep and dark, so how much would betrayal hurt? When strings can pull you down beneath the line of visibility, best to cut those strings and go with the ocean. Drift and swim and learn to breathe as we all did once, one cell in the sea.’

Sera was watching her other friend with mildly exasperated affection. ‘Cole has this hyper-empathy thing and he’s on the spectrum., like I said.’

‘So are you,’ Lana uttered with a teasing nudge.

‘Aren’t we all, though?’ Sera mused.

‘The earth is round and the rivers sing, I like it when we discover new things,’ Cole said. ‘I have to go, I’m getting a new kitten today. She won’t tell me her name until I meet her, but I’ve made a lot of guesses.’

Lana gave Cole a rather concerned up and down look. _‘You’re_ getting a kitten?’

‘I know how to care for them,’ Cole assured her as he hovered in the monstrous grey door that made safe Dorian’s cocoon. ‘Food and water, love and patience. Cuddle them gently and let them learn to trust in their own time.’

Dorian swallowed, averting his gaze with a nod. ‘Well, thanks Cole. This is really kind.’

Cole smiled and left without another word, dancing lazily away.

*

‘Right,’ Dorian said, reading through the manual. ‘I just didn’t realise it was doing _this.'_

Lana, who sat beside him, read with interest. ‘I could do this job way better than you.’

‘What did you expect?’ Sera asked, washing up their mugs. ‘Sex lines?’

Dorian mildly glowered. ‘I thought it’d be customer service or-or maybe one of those _helplines_!’

‘This is a helpline.’

‘For _fortune telling_.’

‘Technically,’ she said. ‘It’s for astrology.’

‘I don’t know anything about astrology.’

‘Neither did Cole. Don’t need to, it’s all there in the folder. He’s got a lovely, weird voice, that’s all that mattered.’

‘Do I have a weird voice then?’

She considered. ‘Not _weird_ , but it’s lovely, innit? Soothing. Mystical.’

Dorian really didn’t want to talk about _voices_ anymore, so he just sat with Lana and kept reading.

‘Shame _your_ voice is so tinny and annoying,’ Sera told her. ‘You’d smash this job, babe.’

Lana snorted. ‘I wouldn’t. It’s all bullshit and lies. None of it’s accurate, not really. Do people really still _call_ to get their fortune told?’

‘Apparently so.’

‘It’s a job,’ Dorian said with a touch of finality. ‘That’s all I care about.’

*

Due to start his _job_ the next day, Dorian went up to the roof that early evening. He stared out at the horizon, sun almost fully set over London. It was a high building, but he stayed well away from the sides, didn’t want to examine the part of him that was _interested_ to see just how much of a dizzying drop it would be.

He listened to sirens in the distance, took solace in the sounds of the city, even if he couldn’t be a part of it for the time being.

When he sat on the roof, waterproof tarmac rough beneath his palms, he looked up at the darkening sky and took a deep, trembling breath. He was alone for the first time since he’d left Cullen. Alone for the first time since that night he’d posted the picture.

It felt… sort of nice.

He watched the sun set all alone, took comfort in the fact that he could _be_ alone, even if his friends were just below.

‘I miss you every moment of the day,’ he told the sky, though in the purple depths of space and stars, he was seeing the face of another. ‘I miss you so much.’

The glass was cracking, he knew it. Time could only hold these things in place for so long and his progress, incremental or otherwise, was plateauing. He wasn’t getting any _better_. Yes, he’d mastered the art of not drowning in a bathtub. Honed his fine skill of continuing to breathe, of eating when forced to and drinking when his head pounded and his mouth burned. But the glass that protected him was also a ceiling and until it shattered, he could rise no higher.

He didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want to grieve all over again, let himself feel the true extent of what he’d crushed down but it was coming. Either he broke the glass himself or he waited for it to crack under the weight of his feelings, of his sheer fucking _loss_.

He found Cullen’s _little saucepan_ in the sky, small constellation of stars. It was easy to find when he knew what to look for. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at the night sky again without seeing it. Cullen was like a tattoo, a brand. Permanent, unmovable. All Dorian could hope for was that he _faded_.

*

Somewhere around 9pm that same night, Dorian’s stomach clenching and rumbling bitterly because he never allowed himself to eat this late, someone knocked at the door.

Sera was working and Lana was showering. Dorian was the only one who’d heard it and he couldn’t make himself unfreeze at first. Terror gripped him by the heart, did not let go as the person knocked again. Soft, polite, but not going anywhere.

Dorian forced himself up and out of the sofa, old _EastEnders_ reruns in the background. He approached that door with a level of apprehension that had his ears ringing. Swallowing thickly, he looked at the small screen that showed who was outside.

‘Oh fucking hell,’ he muttered, equal parts relief and traitorous disappointment washing through him as he opened the door.

Alistair Therein was holding two massive white bags of what Dorian assumed was takeout. He wore a tracksuit, the expensive, flashy kind with ridiculous bright orange trainers. He no doubt thought he looked very _low key._

 _‘_ I waited a month,’ he greeted Dorian without preamble, sounding almost scared. ‘But then I couldn’t wait anymore, I’m sorry.’

Dorian shook his head, eyes stinging with tears he painfully resented. He hated how his body began instantly to betray him. That seeing Alistair suddenly turned all his shoddy defences into _mush._ It was unexpected and Alistair was… he just reminded him of…

When a small sob escaped his throat, Alistair dropped the bags and flung himself around Dorian. Completely wrapped around him with no reservations.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated in a fierce, quiet kind of way. ‘I am _so,_ so sorry.’

Dorian started crying then, hid his face in Alistair’s shoulder, arms tight around him. He couldn’t help it, was simply not in control of the emotions as they came rushing out. Even though he hated himself for it, _hated_ that his control was finally slipping in such a way, he clung to Alistair then as sobs wracked his body, as he cried and let the other man hold him up.

They moved inside and Alistair sat with Dorian on the sofa after depositing the two mostly intact bags of what smelled like kebabs, burgers and chips onto the kitchen counter. Dorian couldn’t _stop crying,_ wished he could take a breath to at least laugh self-deprecatingly but Alistair - fucking _Alistair -_ had broken the dam.

He was of _Cullen's_ world, someone who Dorian had only ever known with Cullen by his side. Alistair would always remind him of that beautiful place. Of the delicate breeze from the ocean that drifted through the mansion. Of shopping for Cullen and the others. Clambakes and lighthouses in the distance. Happiness.

The last time he’d seen Alistair, he’d been _happy_.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Lana’s tone was defensive and deeply wary. Dorian looked up to see her standing behind the sofa, dripping wet and wrapped in her _Little Mermaid_ towel that she’d had for well over a decade.

‘I’m Alistair.’

‘He’s fine, Lan,’ Dorian managed, but it was croaky and wretched and _fuck_ , there he went again. Alistair gave exceptional hugs, as it turned out. Somehow, it felt perfectly fine to cry all over him, to mess up his warm, soft hoodie with tears and just a little bit of snot. He couldn’t _stop_. It was all coming out and there was a fucking tidal wave of it. Though tears had been frequent and plenty over the last four weeks, these physical paroxysms and the rolling cramping agony of _crying_ had not been.

At some point, a still damp Lana came and cuddled him from behind, wrapping tiny arms around his waist and leaning against his back. Alistair laughed, gentle and calm. ‘I charge extra for threesomes.’

A tiny little laugh of Dorian’s own had bubbled up through all the crying and that hint of anything cheerful just made him cry all the more, missing what it felt like to laugh, to be carefree and happy.

Lana clung like a jacket, never saying anything, just slowly making his t-shirt damp with her hair and Alistair, at some point, adjusted his hold on Dorian to _include_ Lana, sandwiching Dorian good and proper between them.

When Dorian’s ribs hurt, when his breath slowed, the tears coming slower and cooler, he began to calm. Lana was stroking his hair and Alistair was almost fully holding Dorian up, taking his weight like it was nothing.

Dorian wondered if he should have feigned embarrassment, knew without a doubt he had fuck all energy to do so, but didn’t know whether or not to at least _try_ as he slowly began to draw away. He’d made a royal mess of Alistair’s top and his own had a great big wet patch where Lana had laid her freshly washed head on his shoulder blade.

‘Here.’ Alistair offered him a tissue, which was sorely needed and then one for Lana too who was, apparently, also crying. Dorian turned to her, expression crumpling because she loved him so much and he’d no doubt put them through a cold, quiet hell this last month but there she was, at his back, sharing in his sadness.

‘C’mere, you,’ he said, pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told her. ‘I’m sorry for being like this.’

A very muffled, ‘Shut the fuck up you wanker,’ was just about audible as they hugged. Dorian kissed her cheek, smoothed back her hair and took a deep, trembling breath.

‘Fucking hell,’ he sighed. ‘Hi, Alistair.’

*

Dorian was shaky and he felt pretty much cleaved in two when Lana went to get the food, opening a window to let in whatever breeze existed in mid-August. London was enveloped by a different kind of summer than the places Dorian had been with Cullen. It was an oppressive heat, almost mechanical, like the shimmering waves from a well run car engine. The air was thick with pollution and dense with humidity but when she opened the window, he breathed a little easier all the same.

While Lana busied herself with plates, cutlery and condiments, Dorian fixed Alistair with a look, absent of anything but quiet gratitude.

‘You didn’t have to come.’

Alistair nodded, tiny dent in his brow. ‘I tried to wait, give you time, but. Well, I had to see you. I was too worried and I really missed you.’

Dorian could have been angry about it, could have reprimanded him for coming uninvited, but he was drained from all the crying and really, he was happy to see Alistair.

‘It’s good to see you.’

The redhead smiled softly, absent of his usual, boundless energy.

Lana sat with them on the sofa, hair now wrapped in a towel.

‘So,’ she said, giving Alistair a very thorough once over. ‘Are you the uh… the—?’

‘The whore?’

Dorian snorted and rolled his eyes, opening one of the bags.

‘No! That’s not—I wouldn’t…’ she huffed and gave up. ‘Yeah.’

Alistair smirked. ‘I’m the sex worker, yes. Escort is probably a more accurate word, but it’s best to use the universal term whenever possible. I do like _whore_ though. Such a _strong_ word, isn’t it? Something vaguely onomatopoeic about it. I got one of everything, so dig in. I only want the chicken donner and a few chips.’

It was a lot of food. Dorian stared at it all, unsure of how to really feel about the fact that someone from the great all-consuming _before_ had shown up with comfort and food, but he found he was stripped bare beyond his ability to over-think. Crying was exhausting and he was hungry, starving even.

‘Thanks for this.’

Alistair nodded, shuffling closer. ‘Missed you.’

‘You too,’ he smiled sadly, eating right out of the box, fuck plates. It was _good_. Salty and dripping in grease; gorgeously seared meat that hit the spot with perfectly fried chips, positively drowned in salt and vinegar.

Lana had the burger, took massive bites as she spoke to Alistair.

‘So,’ she said, wiping burger sauce off her mouth. ‘Just to check, you seem like a nice guy an’ all, but you’re not—?’

‘No,’ he answered quickly, firmly. ‘I’m not here at anyone’s behest.’

Dorian swallowed his food and nodded. ‘That’s good.’

His hand rested on Dorian’s knee. ‘Just here for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Plus,’ he added, a touch brighter. ‘I wanted to see your place. You told me a lot about it and I wanted to see if the view was really that good. No word of a lie, I see.’

After that, they ate in companionable silence. Dorian didn’t eat too much, not as much as he wanted because he knew how real the threat was of it all coming up again. But he did let himself feel almost full, let it soothe his hunger pangs and for a little while, he sort of _blissed out_ , or as close to bliss as one came after having their heart torn to tiny shreds.

‘How’ve you been?’ he asked Alistair, wrapping up what remained of the food and putting it on the coffee table.

Alistair nodded, almost done with his kebab. ‘Steady work and no injuries. That’s about as good as it gets in my field.’

Lana asked, ‘Does it really pay that well?’

‘It can,’ he answered evenly. Dorian got up to go make tea, really wanted one and besides, it was nice to let them talk. Christ, it was nice to _hear_ talking. He boiled the kettle and only briefly debated about whether or not to make it _The Good Way_ , leaning towards bravery, spurred on by the oddly satisfying feeling of having actually eaten enough to be almost full.

He made it Cullen’s way, knew how Alistair liked his tea and so made it that way too. Lana, he knew, liked a coffee after she ate, beautiful little weirdo that she was, so he made her one.

There was laughter coming from the living area and he took a moment, palms flat on the countertop, just to _listen_ to it. To let himself feel something other than pained, awful silence. It made his insides warm to think that his friend was briefly happy. Made him all the more determined to sort himself _out_ because he hadn’t heard her laugh for a month and that was not fucking OK.

‘Here,’ he said, offering mugs of hot drinks and then sitting at the end, Lana now in the middle. ‘Thanks for the food,’ he told Alistair.

‘My pleasure. I really did miss you, y’know. I missed your face,’ Alistair said, quite earnestly. ‘It’s kind of like art, you’re so pretty and symmetrical. So glad I finally barged in!’

Dorian smiled, sipped his tea. ‘Me too.’

It was impressive, how they talked about _nothing_. About the weather, about how annoying the heat was and how they all preferred winter because then the _choice_ to become warm was available whereas heat was oppressive and hard to remedy.

Dorian thought of that room. Of how hot it had been without the air-con. Of skin slick with sweat, of how hot he’d been but in the best way. Closing his eyes did little to remove the thoughts, but the noise from the other two was more successful.

As citizens of Britain, they managed to complain about the heat for a solid half an hour before moving on to other areas of benign interest. Alistair was surprisingly skilled at _not_ venturing into dangerous territory, but Dorian knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped or he asked himself.

When Sera arrived back from work, tired from a night of bartending, she greeted Alistair with a hostile glare.

Dorian explained. Sera took in Dorian’s demeanour, perhaps took in the atmosphere and the majority of her hostility drained away.

‘Well, all right then,’ she said, kicking off her boots, still wary despite assurances.

‘He’s the _sex worker_ ,’ Lana informed her friend proudly.

‘Nice to meet ya.’

Alistair beamed, shaking her hand.

‘Well, I’m gonna shower and then we can talk, I s’pose, yeah?’

There was that toothy, beaming smile Dorian liked so much.

‘That’d be lovely!’

Dorian followed her to the bathroom, sensing that she required reassurance _not_ in front of the newcomer.

‘You OK?’ she asked, the moment he clicked the door shut.

‘I…’ he paused, realising he’d been about to say he was _fine_. Perfunctory response, thoughtless answer for sure, but it was the closest he’d come in a while to actually being _fine_.

He wasn’t fine. He wouldn’t be fine for a long time, if ever again, but he did feel a bit better. More human.

‘I’m OK,’ he went with. She studied him carefully, sussing out any aspect of deception, but there wasn’t any to be found.

‘He’s not here because of them?’

‘No.’

Sera nodded, pulling her socks off. ‘All right then. Make us a tea and I’ll come join you in a bit. Dor.’ He stopped as he was halfway out, looking back. Her expression had softened a little. ‘S’nice to see you smile.’

*

It was close to midnight by the time Sera joined them but Dorian didn’t feel tired. Maybe it was the food giving him energy, maybe it was the company. Pressure taken off of Lana and Sera to keep him alive, to make sure he breathed and ate, drank and slept, it was lovely to see them relax a bit.

Alistair was full of stories. One or two, Dorian had heard before, but most of them were fresh and new. Alistair was good at walking the line none of them talked about.

As the night went on, as his confidence increased, Dorian’s curiosity about _other things_ began to peak. Part of him _wanted_ Alistair to slip up, make some casual reference to _them_ , to _him,_ just so Dorian could pursue it.

Cullen was fine, he knew that.

But a part of Dorian that would always be glutton for punishment, that part _burned_ to know what he was doing, what was happening in the outside world that Dorian was not quite ready for yet.

Alistair did not slip up, so Dorian did.

‘Have you spoken to them?’ he blurted out, when Alistair paused to take a sip of his tea.

The girls looked at him quickly, worry rounding their eyes, Sera placing her hand on his knee and Alistair froze.

‘Um.’

Dorian shook his head. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t be sorry,’ Alistair said. ‘Definitely don’t be sorry.’

‘I don’t want to put you in that position.’

‘It’s not… I’m not in a position, just that. Maybe it’s better if you don’t ask, that’s all.’

Something in the way he said it had Dorian’s instincts bristling with concern, but he felt confident it was misplaced. Cullen was fine, he was safely ensconced between the two people who loved him best in the world and he had everything he needed to move on, get past this and be _fine._

No, the feeling was in response to the sheer fucking _danger_ of asking about them, of becoming involved in their world again, even tangentially. He yearned to know of Cullen because, deep down, he wanted to see him again. Part of him knew it was inevitable. So much had been left unsaid, so much had been said in anger and Dorian… he knew he’d hurt Cullen, had hurt him as much as he could to make it a clean break, to make him let go.

But Cullen was fine and if anything, probably better off _without_ Dorian.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dorian said and in the same breath added, because he just couldn’t _help it_ , didn’t quite trust the part of him coldly _insisting_ upon the fact he clung to, ‘But he’s fine, right? He’s… he’s OK, obviously?’

All Alistair needed to do was nod. Didn’t need to speak. Just a nod and a smile and Dorian would move the conversation along, he really would.

But Alistair stared as silence stretched on and Dorian rethought his question. He’d only asked if Cullen was fine, if he was OK.

Fear began to slowly squeeze his insides then, turning them cold as Alistair struggled to find words, to react to Dorian’s question. The girls were watching Dorian with what seemed like resigned dread.

‘Alistair,’ Dorian repeated, firmer that time. ‘He’s OK, _right_?’

And Alistair, seeming pained and pinned, he winced and said, ‘Define OK.’

Sera stepped in, briskly taking control before it all fell apart.

‘He’s alive and breathing, that’s all that matters,’ she said sternly, shooting Alistair a warning glance. ‘It’s not our business.’

Alistair agreed and the conversation moved on _fast_ , onto determinedly funny and cheerful things, but Dorian did not move on with it. He was stuck on Alistair’s face when he said, _‘define OK.’ T_ he pillar of absolute faith that Dorian had leaned on for that whole abysmal month began to crack at the base. His belief, his ice cold assurance that Cullen was fine, it was faltering.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t get past it. Couldn’t pretend to smile, not when the thing he’d convinced himself of might not be _true._

And really, very deep down he’d known that Cullen obviously wouldn’t be fine and dandy, that… that he would be suffering because he’d loved Dorian. If he’d loved Dorian even half as much as Dorian loved him, then he definitely wasn’t _fine_ , but it was a clever little umbrella word and Dorian had allowed it to obscure Cullen’s wellbeing from him long enough to get through the earlier weeks of abject agony. Of heartbreak that was entirely too literal. Of despair that took his breath away with no promise of when it might return.

He’d told himself that Cullen was fine to get through that time, but now… now he needed to know.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he interrupted them and Alistair sighed, closed his eyes like he knew what was coming. ‘I need to know.’

‘Dor,’ Sera warned softly. ‘This is a bad idea.’

They all knew, he realised. They all knew what was happening, if anything, with Cullen and the others. If they all knew, that meant it was fucking _newsworthy_ and that meant no more _Cullen Is Fine_ box.

‘I _need_ to know.’

Lana shrugged sadly. ‘He’ll find out sooner or later.’

‘Yeah, _later_ would be better,’ Sera said, but it was inevitable now and Dorian knew it. Misery twined with eagerness; he was both desperate and terrified to hear Alistair tell him of Cullen, of what he knew.

‘Please,’ Dorian said. ‘I… if he’s not fine I need to know.’

‘Why?’ Sera prompted gently. ‘Babe, you’ve been through _enough_ at this point. Can we not just focus on you for a bit longer?’

He felt ashamed then, knew how much hard work and time had gone into keeping him alive, keeping him _there._ They had saved him, they were the best friends anyone could ask for.

But he had to know. One way or another.

‘Maybe it’s better we tell him,’ Lana countered. ‘Better than reading about it and Alistair probably knows the _truth_ , at least.’

‘I really am sorry,’ Alistair told them. ‘I honestly didn’t come here to—’

Sera sighed. ‘No, you’re all right, mate. Inevitable, innit. But let’s just take it slow, yeah?’

She fell silent and Dorian looked at Alistair, weighing every emotion as it crossed his face.

‘Is he not OK, then?’

Alistair’s gaze dropped, moving off to the side. ‘He’s… been better, I think.’

That wouldn’t do. ‘Just tell me what’s been happening, don’t _shroud_ anything.’

‘I mean, it’s not good,’ Alistair warned quietly.

Dorian’s desperation was verging on impatience. ‘Tell me, Alistair.’

The redhead took a deep breath. ‘He’s falling apart, big time. It’s all over the papers, the news.’

Dorian stared hard, the words ringing in his ears. He’d been prepared to hear that Cullen was struggling, that he wasn’t doing so great, but this…

‘Explain.’

‘Well,’ Alistair went on heavily. ‘He’s being sued for breach of contract.’

‘Nothing to do with you,’ Sera told Dorian. 

Dorian didn’t believe that, not really. ‘Why?’

‘It’s not been made public,’ Lana said, but Alistair bit his bottom lip and Dorian didn’t relent.

‘Please tell me.’

‘It’s… he broke contract with his label, was overdue for an album as it was, and he failed to meet the re-negotiated dates, apparently. No album, hence breach of contract. He’s being sued for it.’

No album. Dorian thought of him signing something in front of the hotel in Sardinia, of Leliana pressing him with an ever looming due date, reminding him about urgent matters and Cullen’s blasé attitude in response.

Tightly, he asked, ‘What else?’

Alistair blew air through his teeth and went on. ‘His… behaviour in the last few weeks has drawn a mass of attention. Negative attention, obviously.’

‘What behaviour?’

‘The _not good_ kind that the press really likes.’

‘Like what?’

‘Drinking, partying, punching reporters.’

Dorian’s stomach plummeted _._ ‘ _What?'_ He looked at his friends. ‘You said it was dying down.’

Sera crossed her arms. ‘It was dying down, for _you_. They hardly ever talk about you now.’

‘That’s true,’ Alistair agreed. ‘Do you want me to—?’

Dorian waved a hand encouragingly. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, probably the worst thing is that he fired Lee and Fenris.’

It took a few seconds for Dorian to realise what Alistair had actually _said. '_ I’m sorry, what?’

‘I know,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I never thought I’d see the day, but he did. I called Lee a bunch, but she didn’t tell me anything new, just that he’d fired her and Fenris too.’ Alistair rubbed his face. ‘The press are all over him and his ex has placed a restraining order against him. He’s not allowed near her or his daughter, pending a court date.’

‘This… Alistair, this can’t be _right.'_ Dorian looked at the girls, but what he saw there in their expressions just confirmed everything. ‘Fucking hell, how? How has this happened?’

‘It’s not _you_ ,’ Sera said quickly. ‘He pulled out of Coachella and that’s when it all started happening, the legal shit. It’s not you, babe. Nobody made him do that.’

No reassurance had ever sounded more hollow. 

The next thing that came out of Dorian’s mouth was complete and utter truth.

‘I need to talk to him.’

Sera scowled. ‘That’s a bad idea.’

‘Yeah, probably,’ he agreed. ‘But I need to. Is he in London?’

‘Whoa, whoa,’ Alistair said, holding his hands up. ‘Dorian, hold on.’

‘No, I—I need to talk to him,’ he said, standing quickly. ‘You’ve got his number, right?’

‘Babe, let’s talk about this, please?’

Cullen wasn’t fine. Wasn’t even OK. He was _alone_. No Leliana, no Fenris and if he’d fired them, he’d probably gotten rid of Josie too. Not being allowed to see Sophia… shit.

‘No! I’m done talking. Alistair, please. You’ve got his number?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘I only ever had Lee’s.’

Lana sighed sadly and Sera shot her a highly disapproving look. ‘I’ve got it.’

‘You _have_?’

‘From when we went through your phone. Just to see if he was calling you or whatever. I kept it because he… well, in the early days he called me sometimes.’

Later, Dorian was going to cry. Later, he knew, he would fucking scream. This was entirely too much, too fast, but it was happening, regardless. A thrumming, electric urgency flooded through his worn out system, filling him with new life, with fresh determination.

He was furious. With Cullen, with _himself_. The message he’d send to Cullen, the one with the kisses he deleted, that had to be at least partially responsible for this. It had been awful. Cold, clinical and plain cruel. Even _with_ kisses, it would have hurt.

And he knew why Cullen hadn’t been able to provide the album. He knew exactly the reason why, wished he didn’t, but he did.

Lana handed him her phone and Dorian’s thumb hovered over the call button, something horrible occurring to him then. ‘Alistair, he’s not _using,_ right?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Alistair said. ‘Press would be all over it.’

Well, that was something.

Dorian controlled his breathing as he paced, walked the length of his loft and back again, denying time to delay or vacillate. He pressed _call_ , brought the pink, glittering phone to his ear and waited, heart smashing against his still sore ribs.

It started ringing and he rubbed his neck anxiously, vestigial mirroring habit that he tried not to think on. It rang and rang so long that he was about to give up when the other end burst into sound. It was so _loud_ , had him wincing slightly.

Club music, maybe.

 _‘Hello_?’

It wasn’t Cullen who’d answered, not him. Dorian put a finger in his ear, spoke loud and clear. ‘Is Cullen there?’

_‘Who’s this?’_

‘It’s… Dorian. It’s Dorian. Who’s _this?'_

The man on the other end of the line didn’t answer at first and the sounds of the music in the background continued, loud enough to rattle the inner speaker of Lana’s phone.

 _‘It’s Jassen,’_ the man said, calm and cool. Dorian’s blood turned to water. _‘Cullen doesn’t need you anymore, Dorian. Don’t call again.’_

The line went dead. Dorian couldn’t _breathe_.

He looked down, frantically redialled but the call didn’t go through, didn’t even go to voicemail. Jassen had blocked the number.

‘Oh God,’ he said quietly, staring at the screen. ‘Oh my God.’

‘What is it?’ Alistair asked, walking over. ‘What’s wrong?’

On the tail of a shaky exhale, Dorian turned to his friends, all of them. ‘We need to find Cullen. He’s in trouble.’

*

Cullen knocked the drink back hard, taste of a shot that cost more than it would to fill a car up with petrol burning his throat. It was his eighth and they were starting to do their thing, at _last_. Gone were the days of a mere month ago when a white wine would have him pleasantly buzzed and relaxed. His system needed more now, needed a lot more to feel drunk. Addicts had high tolerances, he knew.

A pulsating, violent rhythm smashed through his system, nothing remotely resembling _music_ , not really, but it was loud and it stopped him from thinking too much.

He shook himself and hollered in approval for the burn of the drink, the noise entirely lost to a thunderous rhythm and then he slammed the shot glass down on the bar way too hard. It shattered beneath his hand, glass cracking and half exploding, cutting his palm and littering the neon bar with crystal debris.

Cullen lifted his hand, bleeding fast with tiny shards of glass still stuck inside and he laughed, blinking languidly. He couldn’t feel it, body perfectly, fucking _gloriously_ numb. Beside him, his drinking partner took hold of his wrist, laughed too and then waved over the bar tender.

‘Can’t take you anywhere,’ Jassen shouted to be heard over the oppressive din. ‘No, keep it _up_ , silly. Haven’t you ever bled before?’

‘Least it didn’t go in my face,’ Cullen said to no one, no one who could hear him at least. Even over the crashing sounds of a song that had the elite of London throwing themselves around, Jassen looked at Cullen and smiled like he _had_ heard him. Cullen didn’t mind, didn’t _care_.

He didn’t care about anything anymore.

The bartender finally came over with a rough, clean towel and despite the extravagant entry price, despite this place being touted as a _safe haven_ for celebrities who liked to party, he wasn’t the least bit interested in helping. Left the towel besides a glass of tap water and walked the fuck away.

Cullen was still laughing. It was _funny,_ everything was funny when he felt like this.

Jassen tended to his hand carefully and Cullen didn’t bother watching him, didn’t really like the proximity but he wasn’t going to push away the only person who wanted to hang around with him these days.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Jassen told him and Cullen nodded, wouldn’t have cared either way. He let his head fall back when the song shifted into something deeper, something that was all primal urgency and minor keys and Cullen _wanted_ it, wanted to throw himself around, weightless and free.

‘C’mon,’ he said, tossing aside the bloody towel. Fucking bartender could clean it up for all he cared, rude prick. ‘Come dance with me.’

‘You don’t want another drink?’

Cullen smiled, but he couldn’t feel that either. He was already moving towards the floor, heaving with people he vaguely _recognised_ , one or two who he was mildly surprised to see. Halfway there, he turned back and extended his hand to Jassen who followed with an answering smile that spoke of things Cullen did not care to examine.

The rhythm called out to Cullen, demanded he follow it and he was helpless but to obey. Music had betrayed him, music had fucking _abandoned_ him, but this… this was just a baseline. A pulse. Brutal and loveless. Fucking instead of making love. It was cold and it _soothed_ him, much like the alcohol did.

When Jassen finally joined him, Cullen grabbed him by the front of the shirt, aware he would leave a bloody hand print but that was funny too. Fuck, he’d spent so much of his life being uptight, relying on others and letting them rely on him in turn. So much time _wasted_ being the boring one, the fucking _good guy_. Childhood gone in the blink of an eye, Madeline’s whipping boy, the dutiful _singer_ , hardworking, learning the art of his profession and walking that fine tightrope line between good press and bad.

Then Dorian.

Then fucking _Dorian._

Jassen didn’t seem to care about the blood, but he _noticed_ it. Looked down when Cullen let go. Touched it. Cullen wondered if it should be _weird_ , the way Jassen looked at it, but that rhythm was endless, pounding and addictive and Cullen just wanted to dance.

He just wanted to fucking _dance._

So, he danced. There was no style to it, no one to impress. No cameras to hide from. This place, underground money trap for the absolute elite who liked to let the fuck go now and then, it was a bastion of privacy. He could do whatever he wanted within reason and there would never, ever be pictures in the paper. No one was allowed a phone. No cameras.

Free to do whatever the fuck he liked.

Cullen had never been a _good_ dancer, but he knew how to move. It was instinctive and innate, his body _unable_ to resist moving in time, no matter how beautifully sluggish he was. The alcohol made everything glitter, made the world feel soft to the touch. Drugs would feel better, _heroin_ would feel better, especially the kind he could afford these days.

There was a paper thin line between what he was doing now and what he _could_ be doing. Line thin as the scar on his mouth, but it was there. The last line he hadn’t yet crossed because once he did, he knew he was lost. Knew he’d never make it back to the surface if he shot up because he’d only gotten clean before by the grace of those who’d loved him enough to _stop_ him.

This life he lived now, it would _enable_ him. His addiction would glide downhill and not a single person would try to stop him.

No one loved him enough, wasn’t that just fucking _hilarious_?

They didn’t care anymore.

Not Fenris. Not Leliana. Rosalie, Bran, Josie.

Not Dorian.

And certainly not Cullen himself.

 _Cullen_ just wanted to fucking dance.

So if it was weird that Jassen put his fingers into his mouth, Cullen’s blood on his tongue as he moved against his body, then Cullen didn’t give a fuck.

They danced together and they danced apart. No one bothered Cullen which was great because the mood he was in, he might well have done something really fucking _stupid_. He had free reign, had paid enough for it, after all. When he moved away from Jassen. the other man did not follow, didn’t try to crowd him. He waited until Cullen came back, which he usually did because he might be without his friends for the first time since he was six fucking years old, but he wasn’t ready to be _alone_ alone.

When they danced together, they danced _close_. It was sexually charged and Jassen, he wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t _pretty,_ but he was hot. Good looking, especially when he wasn’t dressed up like a fucking twat. That night, he wore Cullen’s ripped jeans, jackboots and a black t-shirt, slicked back hair falling into his eyes. Jassen was definitely someone Cullen could have fucked.

Cullen didn’t have a lot of experience with casual fucking, but he wanted it. Wanted it like he wanted heroin. Wanted to fuck Jassen through the wall and make him scream so loud that Cullen never heard anything ever again, or even let Jassen fuck him, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t _sex_ he wanted, not really. Just another thing to feel in excess.

Jassen would give him that. He knew by the way he looked at him, saw the heat in his gaze even if he couldn’t _feel_ it, only ever felt cold lately.

When his lungs burned and his mouth was dry, he led Jassen by the hand back to the bar where he ordered more shots. The glass had been cleaned away from the glossy neon surface and so had his blood. He sat heavily on the stool, blinking unevenly as his heart raced. Cullen looked down at his palm, at the thin, jagged line there in the centre but that time he couldn’t make himself laugh.

The _nothing_ was fading and he needed more. Without it, he might start to feel things again and that was simply unacceptable. No. More drinks, more dancing, _more_. More nothingness to keep everything else out.

There was no need to pay cash, he’d surrendered his card at the start of the night and everything would be charged when he checked out of the rooms above the club. Jassen ordered a bottle and he carried it plus two glasses over to a small, concealed area; special table that was built into an alcove for the illusion of privacy. With his free hand, he pulled Cullen along with him.

In the alcove, Cullen poured a hefty shot, but he drank it slower that time, savouring the vicious burn, the vile taste that would bring velvet numbness to his thundering nadir. He poured one for Jassen too, was a polite drunk and besides, who _the fuck_ wanted to drink alone?

‘You OK?’ he asked the other man who was watching the dance floor, the bar and everyone in it with only mild interest.

‘Yeah, of course,’ he answered Cullen. ‘This is fun!’

‘I appreciate you coming,’ Cullen slurred, only a half lie. Didn’t really _appreciate_ anything, had to feel to do that, but he’d been a polite man once, in possession of manners and kindness, and some habits were hard to break.

Jassen frowned at him, almost insulted. ‘Of course! You needed to get away, it’s fucking crazy lately. Don’t blame you for wanting to let off steam. I told you this place was good, right?’

‘It’s great. You’ve been here before?’

‘Maybe.’

Cullen let his gaze wander over Jassen then, made no attempt to hide it. Buried beneath an avalanche of _nothing_ , his feelings could not be heard, couldn’t object to the monstrosities he was committing, let alone those he was _considering_.

The answering slow, sultry smile spoke of how if they _did_ fuck, Jassen would do all the bad, terrible things that Cullen needed. That he was far more than Madeline had ever realised. That he was a deep, dark well and Cullen a thirsty man, desperate enough to fall if he leaned in too far. Cullen might have cared, once. He might have been wary.

But then, in that frame of mind, it just made him like Jassen even more.

Cullen knocked back another shot. Soon it wouldn’t be enough, he’d need more, need something stronger. It was always the way with things that killed pain.

‘So, tell me,’ Jassen said, shifting closer in the booth as someone who Cullen had accepted an award from last year threw all manner of _shapes_ around the dance floor, girls clamouring around him. Weird guy, good singer, but just _weird_. ‘How did _you_ meet Madeline?’

With a smile that _he_ had always disliked, Cullen cast around for memories that were buried deep. Repressed by better times, better days… all shattered to fuck now, like that glass beneath his palm.

He laughed, reaching for the bottle. ‘It’s a long story.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be MASSIVE and oh, so much is going down.  
> The upswell of comments and kindness really made my whole week, thank you so much. Each tiny bit of feedback means the world to me, I know, I'm such a whore lol. But thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I give this my all and your support makes it completely worth it.  
> Love to all!  
> 💜💜💜


	24. World Was On Fire And No One Could Save Me But You (Strange What Desire Will Make Foolish People Do)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ, OK. Few quick notes. 
> 
> I'm so so sorry this came in ridiculously late, but as you can see by the INSANE wordcount, this took over completely, to the point where even I was like, 'OK, I think I can stop here,' and something inside was like, 'NOPE.' It took two weeks to write 61k and 3 days to edit this second part of Cullen's life story and all I can really do is weep and hope you guys like it because holy shit, but I really bled for this one. 
> 
> I don't usually do this, but this chapter definitely needs warnings for domestic abuse and some borderline non-con because this is Madeline and she's a BITCH of the highest degree. Honestly, I'm warning because this gets upsetting at times, even to me while writing it. So, here's me warning you guys because there are a few readers who I know, like me, who've experienced this kind of thing first hand. It's all in aid of cathartsis and this story, I feel the need to reiterate, will have the happiest most wonderful of endings, but in the meantime, it's angst city, so strap in. 
> 
> What else? Also, it's NaNoWriMo which I have SORELY neglected to write this insane chapter that probably no one will even like lol, so I'm gonna be trying to balance out a little more now, get back into a good rhythm, but that is at least part of the reason for the delay. Also, it was the election forever and I couldn't write the whole time, was glued to CNN so that definitely played a part. 
> 
> FINALLY, because this is SO LONG, I broke it down into parts, so you can read over time if you want and find your place, IDK, I just feel bad it's so long but I couldn't stop, something took over. Four parts and basically four chapters of about 15k each so I just... hope you enjoy it? Haha, I'm a tad delirious, not feeling super great but I can say confidently, I am really proud of this. 
> 
> Love to all, please enjoy at your leisure. 💜💜💜

**-Part One-**

_Cullen Rutherford met a clever, beautiful woman with long brown hair and well applied makeup when he was twenty years old._

_'How did you meet her, then?' Bran asked._

_Cullen mixed the gravy, biting his bottom lip with excitement. 'I met her at a gig, actually.'_

_'Oh, it's like that, is it? A groupie was she?' Cassie jibed playfully. She sat opposite Bran, Rosalie beside her. The two always got along well. Leliana was helping to plate up the potatoes and though the house was as full as it got these days, Fenris's absence stuck out to Cullen, always would._

_They had his letters and postcards on the fridge, all five of them as if somehow that could manifest his presence, make Cullen less lonely in the house he'd grown up in. Lee would go back after dinner, take the train and return to her student housing and her classes. Bran would go back to his place with Cassie. Rosalie, she flew out to Romania the next day, was staying with her travel friends so they could go to the airport all together._

_Cullen told himself to enjoy seeing them when he could, to always make the most of it, but it was hard and without Fenris, he was never quite himself._

_It wasn't all bad, though. Madeline said he could see her tomorrow._

_'Not a groupie,' he told Cassie, tutting with exaggerated disapproval. 'She was there with her friends. She's completely gorgeous and so smart.'_

_'Smitten, are we?'_

_Cullen carried the gravy over to the same table he'd sat countless times with his friends, making hard decisions, talking things through, always with a tea to hand. He placed down the elements of dinner; a great big roast cooked to the best of his ability and judging by the way everyone dug in, he'd done a good job._

_'Maybe a little bit smitten,' he admitted, sharing a brief look with Lee whose smile was kind, if curious._

_'I can't wait to meet her,' she said lightly._

_'Me too!’ Rosalie agreed eagerly, piling potatoes onto her plate while Bran scowled at her even though there were more than enough. 'When I get back from Europe, invite her round!'_

_Cullen nodded, slicing chicken. 'Yeah, maybe.'_

_'Maybe?'_

_'Well, she's_ _…'_ posh _, he'd been about to say. 'Pretty busy sometimes. We could go out to eat or something.'_

 _Lee sipped her water, watching him evenly and he_ greatly _looked forward to when she would inevitably pull him aside later and quietly ask if he was ashamed of their family house, of where it was situated and if so, what was he doing with someone like that?_

_'Sounds good,' Bran said, nudging Rosie with playful impatience to give everyone else a turn with the potatoes. 'What does she do?'_

_'Her family's got money.'_

_Bran snorted. 'So, she doesn't_ do _anything, then?'_

_Cullen gave him an unimpressed look. 'She does things.'_

_'Like what?'_

_'Like_ _…'_ shopping, lunching with her friends, partying. _'Y'know. She does stuff, OK?'_

_'With charities and things?' Cassie offered kindly. 'Or just investments?'_

_Cullen really wanted to take that and run, but it wasn't the truth. Madeline lived on her father’s income and she did whatever she liked. She was intelligent, no doubt about it and she'd attended the finest schools in London but she didn't work and she was most definitely used to the finer things in life._

_'Yeah, something like that,' he said, smiling gratefully at his brother's fiancé._

_'Anyway,' Lee said, swiftly rescuing him as always. 'What about you, Branson Rutherford? How goes work? Lay your boss out yet?'_

_Bran grimaced and launched into his usual complaint-riddled speech about how much he hated his boss, about how the company would be so much better without him, how Bran could run things differently. Cullen slipped into silence, happy to breathe easy among the noise of his family. Bran was much changed, physically. He would never be tall like Cullen, but he was broad shouldered, strong. Like Cullen years ago, his work was the kind that shaped a body and built muscle. They looked nothing alike save for the shape of their eyes, maybe. In Rosalie, Cullen could see the resemblance. Now that he could stand to look in the mirror at himself, he saw how much they looked alike, could have been twins were it not for the age difference._

_They resembled their mother; blond curls and light brown eyes, same smile, same laugh. Bran was all their Dad, all_ Mia _. Cullen's memory of her was an immovable thing. Permanent fixture in his heart, but she was a little blurred around the edges now. He knew she'd been loud and strong, his big sister. That she had been smart and boisterous, but a source of safety for him and the others. Bran reminded him of her, they had the same kind of energy._

_Rosalie kissed his cheek and hugged him for a long time when the night came to an end. 'Text me every day,' he reminded her, unnecessarily. 'If there's any problem, call me, yeah?'_

_'Course,' she promised, kissing him again when they parted. She was so free with her love, with her emotions. 'I'll be back in a few weeks, maybe a month.'_

_Cullen rolled his eyes. 'Maybe a month, who talks like that? You're such a hippy.'_

_She laughed and wiped her eyes. 'I'll be very safe, don't worry.'_

_'Of course she will,' Lee said, opening her arms when it was her turn. 'My darling girl is the cleverest of us all.'_

_'Still think you should buy a knife when you're out there,' Bran muttered darkly. 'It's a dangerous place, Romania.'_

_Rosalie scoffed while Cullen privately agreed._

_'Bye, Cass,' Cullen said and hugged the woman who was due to give birth next year._

_'Oh, bye you!' she said, yanking him in close. 'Lovely dinner, as always. Great seeing you!'_

_'You too, thanks for coming.'_

_'Can't wait to meet your Madeline!'_

_Cullen nodded and closed the door. In the kitchen, he heard the gentle clack of plates. 'You want me to drive you to the station?'_

_Leliana looked up at him from the table. 'I'm staying the night.’_

_'Lee, you don't need to.'_

_'I know. I want to. I miss you, miss the house. I'll go back first thing tomorrow, don't even have classes until midday. I'll be fine.'_

_Cullen smiled softly and together, they cleaned up the kitchen._

_'Bran seems so happy,' she said as they washed up, side by side._

_'He does.'_

_'Cassie is wonderful.'_

_'Definitely.'_

_'You're not comfortable bringing Madeline here.’_

_Cullen sighed, smiling wryly. 'Here we go.'_

_'Well,' she prompted. 'It's true, isn't it?'_

_'I never said that.'_

_'I can read you like a book, Cullen. It's because she's rich?'_

_'There's no reason, I just don't want to.'_

_'Well, fair enough, I suppose.'_

_'To be honest,' he said heavily. 'I was thinking of moving on.'_

_'From the house?'_

_'Yeah.'_

_'Makes sense,' she said gently. 'Bit big for you to rattle around in.'_

_'That, and I just_ _… I don't know. Maybe it's good to move on. New beginnings and all that.'_

_'With Madeline?'_

_'Not moving in with her, no. Just. Maybe a different place.'_

_'When does Rosalie move in with May?'_

_'When they get back from Romania.'_

_Lee smirked. 'You know they're seeing each other, right?'_

_'Well, obviously.'_

_'She's damned adorable, that Rosie Rey. I love her so much.'_

_'She loves you.'_

_Leliana laid her head on Cullen's shoulder and loosely wrapped her arm about him. 'It's so quiet here. I don't blame you for wanting to move on.'_

_'Wherever I go, there'll be a spare room.'_

For Fenris. For you.

_'Same area, or somewhere in the city?'_

_He laughed. 'I couldn't afford that, not in a million years.'_

_'No? What did that agent say?'_

_'I haven't called him yet.'_

_'Why not?'_

_'I don't know, he just seemed_ _… shady.'_

_'He's an agent. That's how they are. You want me to come with you for a meeting?'_

_'No,' he said quickly, too quickly. 'I'll be fine. You're right. I shouldn't pass up an opportunity.' Dropping a kiss to her hair, long enough to reach her lower back now, he sighed and let her scent ground him._

_'Has he written to you?'_

_She sighed. 'Not since a month ago, no.'_

_Cullen didn't say how much he missed Fenris, didn't have to. Knew she felt the same. He was always there, third equal part of them, even in spirit._

_'It's so fucking hard,' he said instead, abandoning the washing up completely so they could hug. 'Not knowing if he's OK, when we'll hear from him.'_

_Her damp, soapy hands went all the way around his waist and they leaned into one another, soft and comforting. 'He's strong,' she reminded him. 'So much stronger than the both of us. He wouldn't do this unless he knew he_ could _do it.'_

_Cullen nodded, stroking her hair. 'Still, did he have to join the fucking army?'_

_Leliana laughed and squeezed him harder. 'I know.'_

_'Couldn't have joined a gym, no?'_

_'He needed more than that.'_

More than us _, Cullen heard._

_'And what about you? You haven't told me how classes are, how many miles ahead of everyone else you are.'_

_She kissed his chest and they parted easily, Cullen's insides warm once more._

_'University is hard,' she told him, finishing the plates. 'Everyone there has had the benefit of a far superior education.'_

_Cullen smirked. 'So, only a few thousand miles ahead of them, then?'_

_She cracked that smile he loved. 'Makes it sporting, at least.'_

_When the quiet, empty house was clean, they walked upstairs together, nudging now and then. Past the bathroom door, where they'd taken turns checking on Fenris, where she had sat and quietly talked through the door as he'd wretched up bile, body in a stranglehold of protest as his addiction fought back. Same spot where he'd listened to her gentle, quiet sobs after returning from the clinic, pregnant no more._

_The house was full of ghosts, of memories._

_'Night,' he said when they got to her room, nothing inside it changed, save for what she'd taken with her to University. He went to kiss her cheek but she stopped him._

_'Maybe we could—just for tonight.'_

_He smiled gently, easily, trying to hide how relieved he was. 'OK.'_

_They changed in front of each other, neither caring, neither having ever once looked at the other in_ that way _and in Fenris's room, they slipped into his old bed. Small single thing, but his covers smelled the same. The room had retained his essence even during the time he'd been taken from them._

_They didn't say anything as Cullen opened his arms to her and Lee burrowed inside, sighing. Beneath their best friend's covers they cuddled and then, peaceful and light, they slept._

_*_

_Madeline set her bag down at the table, dazzling smile in place. ‘Am I late?'_

_Cullen, who'd been waiting for over half an hour, nerves creeping higher as every moment passed, stood to greet her, shaking his head._

_'No, I'm just early.'_

_They kissed briefly. It always made him a little bit dizzy, seeing her, kissing her. They sat down and she made that happy, contented little sigh he loved._

_She opened the menu. 'Good week?'_

_'Yeah, it's been OK,' he said, doing the same even though he'd already read it four times, self-conscious and slightly embarrassed to have been sitting on his own for so long. 'Better for seeing you.'_

_Madeline rolled her eyes and smiled. 'You're such a sap. Did you miss me all that much?'_

_'I did.'_

_'How much?'_

_'A lot.'_

_'Poor baby,' she cooed. 'Come have another kiss, then.'_

_He leaned over the table and kissed her again, heart spinning in his chest. Her lips were thick and soft, he couldn't get enough._

_'You're so amazing,' he told her._

_'Thank you. What shall I get?'_

_Cullen paid, he always paid even if it made his own_ food _situation extremely tight for the rest of the week. She had expensive tastes. After the meal, she walked the streets of London with him, hand in hand._

_'Want to come back to mine?' she asked casually._

_Cullen's throat got stuck in his haste to answer affirmatively._

_Of the nine dates they'd been on, Madeline had not yet asked him back to her place and Cullen was not comfortable asking her back to his, especially as they always met up in central London and he lived a fair drive away._

_For now, at least._

_He was shaking a little when she closed the door. Her place was everything he expected and yet far more. It was massive, cream throughout and patently expensive. Huge, ridiculous TV on the wall. Soft, ambient lighting in the ceiling. Art and furniture that wasn't mass produced. Her apartment (it couldn't be called a flat) had a_ doorman _in the building below who'd greeted her and Cullen respectfully._

_'Wow, this is incredible,' he said, pulling his shoes off._

_She looked back. 'What are you doing?'_

_'Oh,' he paused, gesturing to her near white carpet, thick pile and utterly unblemished. 'I didn't want to ruin it.'_

_Madeline laughed, tossing her keys into a pretty glass bowl atop a sideboard. 'Make all the mess you want, the whole place gets deep cleaned once a week.'_

_She still had her shoes on but Cullen's were boots and it made his stomach clench, the idea of getting that beautiful carpet muddy._

_He pulled them off, cheeks reddening. 'Just to be on the safe side.'_

_Cullen followed her into the kitchen where she poured two glasses of red wine. 'You're adorable,' she told him, handing him a glass which he drank to be polite. Red wine tasted_ awful _and he repressed a wince, but barely. He watched as she shrugged out of her jacket, dropping it on the floor and used a small remote to put music on. Soft, casual music sung by women, the kind of stuff that most people considered background, but Cullen had always liked more than he should. Found their soft voices and lovely words to be enchanting._

_'Relax,' she told him, voice dropping low, slightly hypnotic. 'I promise, you don't have to worry in here.'_

_'I just_ _…' he said, tasting the wine on his tongue as he spoke. 'It's a beautiful place, I worry that—'_

_Madeline tipped her glass of wine upside down over the carpet and all that red, same shade as her lipstick, went pouring down on the thick, expensive cream coloured carpet. Cullen watched it happen, his insides tightening, shock no doubt betraying him in his features._

_When it was empty, she tossed the glass over her shoulder. It landed on the sofa, dribbling mess there too but at least it didn't smash._

_'I said,' she repeated, lower. 'Relax. I don't care about all this shit. The pretty art, the carpets. Jesus. I care about you, OK?' Perfectly manicured nails took hold of his face as she brought his lips to hers. 'I care about_ you, _Cullen.'_

 _He was still holding his wine glass but he kissed her back, couldn't help it. Rosalie was right, he was smitten. She was all he could think about. Madeline curled her tongue against his, the kiss soft and blissful. She made these little noises as they kissed, soft sighs and moans and it was all so sexy, so deeply fucking erotic that it drove him crazy. Cullen's two experiences of sex had both been atrocious in their own way. Kissing had been agony, everything had_ hurt.

_This was so different._

_Madeline was soft and her fingertips moved over his skin light and teasing. She made him shiver, she made him feel drunk._

_'Come with me,' she muttered and he followed her into the bedroom. In there, the walls were a deep, dusky shade of rose petal red and the ceiling_ _… fuck, the ceiling was made entirely of mirrors. Cullen looked up at himself, still holding a glass of red wine, dazed and astonished. In the mirrors, he saw her stripping off, slow and deliberate. She drew the blinds, making the room darker but with the mirrors, all existing light was doubled._

_She was_ stunning _._

 _Her long hair curled loosely around her naked skin as she unhooked her bra, perfect, ample breasts swaying slightly. Madeline stepped out of her lacy matching underwear. She looked like something from a fucking_ movie. _Her lips were red and her gaze was heady. She ran her hands over her skin, fingertips trailing over her nipples as they stiffened, peaked. Cullen knew he was staring, all the blood in his body gone aggressively and irreversibly_ south _but he couldn't help it._

_'Tip your wine on the carpet,' she told him, hands squeezing her breasts now, kneading the flesh as she moaned softly, waiting._

_Cullen did as she said, extended his arm and then, with a hand that trembled, spilled the no doubt expensive wine onto the soft, deep carpet. He didn't look at the mess he'd made, could not wrench his gaze from her. She took his breath away, she made him fucking_ dizzy _._

_Madeline Hawke smiled at the carpet, looking up at him through lowered lashes. 'I want to see you. Show me your body.'_

_No one had ever undressed quicker, he was certain. It might have been funny, had he not been so ridiculously, agonisingly turned on. He yanked his shirt off, his_ good _shirt he usually wore for their dates. Unhooked his belt and shoved his jeans down and off, but he left his boxers on, couldn't quite overcome his hesitation there. Painful inexperience in such an arena making him want to cover up._

_Madeline's eyes moved over him appraisingly. She bit her lower lip, gaze moving lower. 'Off.'_

_He swallowed and did just that, the way she gave him little_ commands _making something in his lower spine vibrate. His cock was hard, had been hard the second she'd undressed and the cool air of her bedroom did nothing to lessen it, hot and desperate, almost painful._

_'You're big,' she commented, backing towards the huge, silky bed, four posters and everything. 'Come here.'_

_He moved forward so quickly that his shaky knees almost gave out. His cheeks were burning, aware of his own awkwardness, but it was hard to care when he wanted her so much._

_'Am I beautiful?' she purred, as he bent to kiss her, keeping him away slightly, hand on his chest._

_'Yes,' he gushed. 'Fuck, yes, you're so beautiful, Madeline.'_

_'Do you want to kiss me?'_

_Cullen swallowed hard. 'Yes.'_

_'Kiss me here first,' she said, leaning back, opening her legs and Cullen fell to his knees, over eager, mind positively swimming. He'd never done this, never had the opportunity and he was nervous, wanted to be good for her, wanted to make her blissfully happy but the nerves were fucking with him, making him hesitate._

_'What's wrong?' she asked, cupping his cheeks and angling him to look up at her. 'You don't want to?'_

_'N-no! I do, God, of course I do, I just_ _…'_

_Her smile was wide,_ pleased _. 'You've never done it before?'_

_'I've had sex,' he said, voice small and thin. 'But not_ _… this.'_

_'Oh, baby,' she said. 'I love that.'_

_'You do?'_

_'Yes! Love that my pussy will be the first your tongue has ever been inside, love that I can teach you how to make me feel good.'_

_It resonated like praise, like approval._

_'I’ll do anything you want,' he promised, hands running up and down her thighs, heart beating so hard he could feel it in his ears._

_'Come up here on the bed,' she said, moving back so she could lay against the mass of pillows and cushions, all egg white silks and satins. She looked like a Goddess there, hair trailing over her pale skin as she crooked one knee and he crawled towards her. 'I'll tell you what to do each step of the way, all right, baby?'_

_'Yes,' he panted, dizzy with the depth of emotion he felt then, of his_ gratitude _for not laughing in his face. Twenty years old and he didn't know how to go down on a woman. 'Yes, please.'_

_'God, you're so pretty,' she told him, running her hands through his hair. 'Do you want to taste me?'_

_He keened, high and desperate. 'Please.'_

_'Mmm, OK then, we'll do this together.'_

_*_

_She blew his mind._

_Showed him things, taught him things and she was always so patient, so loving. Her voice was his anchor and without it, his mind would literally disconnect, that was what she did to him. He felt bewitched, utterly lost to her. She taught him to use his mouth, to bring her to shaking, shuddering orgasm and he became addicted to it. Loved that even more than when she would guide him inside her, tight, wet heat all around and she would always let him come without pulling out, promised she was on the pill and it was all safe, perfectly safe._

_Madeline told him what to say, even, when he was close to coming._

'Say you love me, baby!'

'Say you're mine for all time, only mine.'

'Say you'll only ever love me, no one else!'

'You want to make me yours, don't you? Only yours, no one else? Say it then, say it, Cullen!'

_It was beyond anything he'd ever felt._

_He was so in love with her it fucked him up. When he thought of her, he lost track of what he was doing. He walked the wrong way or he trailed off, if speaking. She was the centre of his universe._

_For three weeks, he barely left her apartment. He was there when the cleaners came, when they got the red wine out of the carpet. Madeline had people who came and did her hair once a day in the morning, sometimes her makeup too._

_Cullen felt awkward the first time the place was deep cleaned, like he should have apologised to the people who steam cleaned the carpet and cleared up the mess they'd made, but it was normal to Madeline. She didn't apologise and so neither did Cullen, just smiled awkwardly as the crew went through the whole place, making it like new._

_She loved making mess, was messy by nature. Not especially clean, really. Cullen washed up one day and she laughed at him, told him not to bother. He knew there was no point. Mid-afternoons, someone else came and cleaned the daily mess, but still. He wanted to help, didn't like dirty dishes in the sink._

_They had sex all the time. Madeline was a creature of pure fucking joy and indulgence in that bedroom with the mirrors. She loved to watch herself, loved to watch him fucking her in the reflection. She stared at herself and Cullen didn't mind, loved her too much to really_ mind _anything she did. Never objected when she wanted him to be more adventurous, when she asked him to hold her down, fuck her harder, make it hurt, make her cry. He didn't want to do those things, but she wanted it, so he did his best._

_The more he came to know her in this way, the more he realised she liked it when he held her down. She didn't often ask it because she knew it wasn't something he would freely offer or request, but she liked it rough sometimes and fucking Christ, but he was lost to her, so he did whatever she wanted. And if it wasn't enough and she grew impatient, that was his fault. If she tried to antagonise him by slapping him during sex, that was because he wasn't being rough enough._

_He tried his best, tried to give what would make her happy, but it was_ _… deeply antithetical to him, hurting her when he loved her so much._

_Afterwards, it would either go one of two ways. If he'd pleased her, she would be gentle and caring. Gather him up in her arms and kiss him all over. Might take him deep into her throat and finish him that way because sometimes he couldn't come if he was hurting her, no matter how fucking amazing she felt, no matter how beautiful she was. If he'd done well and brought her to orgasm, hand around her throat or over her mouth, then he would earn her love, really and truly._

_But there were other times,_ bad _times when he hadn't managed it. When her demands had made him turn soft, made him weak and useless and those times, she might shove him off her, straddle his face and let him finish her that way, but if she was angry, she could be cruel. She'd say awful things, talking almost to herself while riding his mouth, thighs tight around his face and if he couldn't breathe, that didn't matter._

_There were times when he felt like he would throw up. Days when the things she wanted him to do brought tears to his eyes, shame stinging painfully as his lower abdomen tightened and pulled. If it made him come, then she would always be ecstatic. She'd praise him and sob his name even as she begged him not to, not to come inside her because he might make her pregnant. It was all a game, it all ended once she orgasmed and then it was back to reality. To soft kisses and wine on the carpets just for fun._

_But_ if _he came, he couldn't ignore the feeling that followed him for hours after, no matter how pleased it made her._

 _He felt so ashamed of himself for getting off on it, for enjoying_ hurting _her. He looked at himself in her massive bathroom mirror and he slapped himself across the face. Once, twice, hard enough to make his ears ring and tears flood his eyes. Madeline would be waiting for him on the bed, TV on in the background which always made him feel safer because if there was TV on, they weren't going to have sex anymore, not for a while._

_'You feel better now?' she would ask him, smiling sweetly at the red smudges on his face._

_'Yeah,' he'd nod, blinking through tears as he smiled back, love running hot through his veins. 'Much.'_

_*_

_During those weeks, she wouldn't let him leave much. On the days he had to work, she begged him to stay._

_'Don't leave,' she whined, wrapping her legs around him from behind. 'I hate all my friends and I'm so bored, stay with me, lover!'_

_Cullen had resisted at first, but after a few days, she really refused. Sent him money instead._

_'Five grand enough?' she asked, casual and almost cruel. He would trip over himself trying to stop her because that wasn't a good feeling, definitely not. 'Money means nothing to me,' she said. 'You mean something to me. You're all I want and come on, working behind a bar is hardly a career.'_

_He relented and she liked that. Sent him money whenever he did something good and he told the bar he wasn't going to make it in anymore, quit his other job too at the local coffee shop._

_One of the few times he left was at night, to perform. He performed three times a week and at least in this, she never tried to stop him. Sometimes she would glare, but she never did more than that. He went and he performed and he hurried back to her flat afterwards. The only other times he was away were Sundays, dinner with Lee, Bran and Cassie._

_The house was hardly lived in. Mail piled up on the doormat when he entered and it was cold, much colder than Madeline's place._

_Another letter came from Fenris; short, sweet and reassuring. He was fine, he'd made a friend, was rising through the ranks. Excelling, even. Cullen smiled and added it carefully to the front of the fridge, the fridge with nothing inside it save for gone off milk, cheese and some very old tomatoes._

_'When can I meet them, your family?' Madeline would ask and Cullen would blush a little, thinking of that big old house. Of the worn carpets and the outdated furniture._

_'How about we go out for a meal?' he asked, knowing he could at least afford it, all her_ Stay With Me _money sitting in his account._

_They went out for a meal when Rosalie returned, some place midway to being fancy._

_Madeline was all smiles for his family. Warm hugs for Bran and Cassie, playing with Rosalie's hair and complimenting her natural beauty but when Cullen introduced her to Leliana, something rather cold crackled between them, at least from Madeline's side. Cullen had told Madeline about everyone, of course. About Fenris and Lee, his life, his past. He loved her, wanted to tell her everything and so he had._

_'Nice to meet you,' she said and the pair shook hands. Lee didn't seem thrown by the cold greeting she'd received comparatively to the others. Simply smiled, steady as always._

_'Cullen's told us much about you.'_

_They sat down at the table and Cullen suddenly felt weirdly_ nervous _. Maybe Madeline wouldn't like that he'd told Leliana about her. It was so strange. She was impossibly charming to the others, but with Lee, she seemed almost threatened._

_It worsened as the evening drew on, as Lee watched Madeline interact with Cullen. She missed nothing, his best friend and he knew the sensation of her razor focus when he felt it. Madeline was on edge, not her usual relaxed self._

_When the meal ended, Madeline asked if Cullen was coming back with her._

_'No, I'm going home,' he said because_ of course _he was, it was a Saturday and tomorrow was Sunday, the day he spent with them at the house he still hadn't managed to move on from just yet._

_'Oh,' Madeline said and he could see, despite her flawless exterior, that she didn't like that. 'Am I not invited?'_

_Halfway to pulling his jacket on, Cullen paused. 'To_ _… the house?'_

_She crossed her arms. 'To your place, yeah.'_

_'Um, sure,' he said slowly, trepidation unfurling within. 'Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow?'_

_'Love to,' she said and pulled Rosalie in for another deep, very sisterly embrace. 'So, so wonderful to meet you!' she repeated patting Rosalie’s cheek, even though Rosalie was a solid inch taller. Madeline threw a glance at Leliana. 'And you,' she added coolly. It made Cullen's stomach clench, wished he understood and could make it better. They were two of the people he loved most in the world, he_ wanted _them to get along._

_'How serious are you about her?' Lee asked as they drove home together, Rosie gone to a party with her friends in London after the meal, Bran and Cassie home too, would see them tomorrow._

_Cullen's hand tightened on the wheel. 'Why?'_

_Leliana shrugged and Cullen waded through the strange silence for a while before asking, 'You didn't like her?'_

_'It was more that she didn't like me, but no. I did not like her. You seem quite different around her, too.'_

_'I'm happy.'_

_'Are you?'_

_'Yeah,' he said with a definite edge of defensiveness now. 'I am, actually.'_

_'She makes you happy?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Well,' Lee sighed. 'I hardly know her. Perhaps I misjudged.'_

_Leliana did not misjudge and they both knew it, but Cullen took her offering for what it was and let it go._

_'Got a letter from Fenris.'_

_'I got one too.'_

_'What did yours say?'_

_'That he's doing well, made a friend, advancing through the ranks quickly.' She looked out the window. 'That he loves me.'_

_Cullen cracked a grin, turning towards the Blackwall Tunnel. 'I didn't get that.'_

_'I've no doubt he loves you, Cullen,' she said dryly, but he heard the smile that time._

_'Maybe not like_ that _, though, eh?'_

_'Yes, maybe not, but close enough.'_

_He looked over at her quickly as the cars in front came to a standstill, traffic queueing to get inside._

_'I'm sorry it was awkward tonight,' he said softly. 'I think maybe she was feeling a little on edge. Maybe I shouldn't have told her so much about you and Fenris. It's a_ lot _to normal people, isn't it?'_

 _She made no comment about the use of the word_ normal _, instead just nodding in agreement. 'It's a strange adjustment at University, for sure.'_

_'How's your friend, Janie?'_

_'Josie,' she corrected. 'And she's lovely, but like you said,_ normal _.' Leliana sighed again, far more exaggerated that time as she took his hand where it rested on the gearstick, holding it tight before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 'I miss him. I miss_ us _.'_

_'It's two years,' he said. 'We can get through that.'_

_'I hope so. Madeline will be coming to dinner tomorrow, then? At the house?'_

_'Yeah,' he answered, unable to hide the hint of misery that time. 'It's not that I'm ashamed, you_ know _I'm not, just that_ _… she's really rich, her apartment is crazy.'_

_'It's where you grew up,' Lee said. 'If she can't accept that, maybe it's not worth investing long term.'_

_It was Cullen's turn to sigh that time. 'Christ, Lee. Please don't put me in this position.'_

_'Are you in love with her?'_

_'I am, yeah.'_

_'Then I promise, I'll make more effort. Promise.'_

_*_

_Leliana made effort and so did Madeline. Cullen's girlfriend turned up to the address he texted her, slightly more dressed down than usual which, honestly, made Cullen_ relieved. _When_ _she came inside, she looked around with a cheerful smile, eyes bright and warm._

 _'Oh, this is lovely,' she exclaimed, hugging him tight. 'So cosy and well loved! You're so_ silly _not inviting me until now!'_

_Lee was in the kitchen, helping like she always did. Madeline went through and looked at Cullen's friend then, Bran and Rosie not there yet._

_'Listen,' she said to Lee. 'I think maybe yesterday I wasn't especially friendly and I hope you know that wasn't intentional at all.'_

_Leliana watched in that impassive way of hers, eyes like bulletproof glass._

_'No, I was very much the same,' she said, relaxing into a smile._

_Madeline laughed. 'It's just a little intimidating, is all. I've never had friends like you, you know? All my friends are shallow and vapid, they come and go. Why don't we start again?'_

_Cullen left them to it, feeling a million times better._

_*_

_The first six months were the best._

_During those months, Madeline was the nicest he would ever know her. She was relaxed and generous, she had a wicked sense of humour. The effort she made with Lee and his family was significant._

_At Bran and Cassie's wedding, she held Cullen's hand, she brought a ridiculously thoughtful gift and she danced with Rosalie and Cullen at the same time, laughing and charming everyone she spoke to._

_When Cassie gave birth, she was right_ there _in the waiting room, clutching a little bag with a tiny romper inside. Cullen hadn't asked her to come, had just fired off a text to let her know where he'd be. Cullen held his nephew, tiny little thing named Daniel after their Dad and Madeline kissed Cassie's forehead, told her she was amazing._

_The effort she made with Leliana was less effusive, but it didn't waver, at least not at first. There seemed to be something of a shaky truce between the two. Cullen knew that Lee didn't like Madeline, for whatever reason, they just were not destined to be friends the way Madeline was with Rosalie and even Cassie._

_For six months, Cullen came to learn so much he'd never known before, all of it circulating around Madeline. He was caught fully in her orbit, did not ever wish to drop out of it. She was a force of nature and he was so impossibly in love with her that he ignored much of what made him unhappy. The ratio was small compared to what made him_ happy _and so he reminded himself that all relationships required compromise to work. He did everything she asked him to in bed._

 _He found that if he hit himself in the face enough times before sex, it was easier to go through with. As the months drew on, she started wanting more and more extreme interactions from him, games that pushed the line dangerously close to Cullen's inability to comply. She wanted him to pretend to be all kinds of_ bad _. She liked to play elaborate games where she'd make him hide in the apartment closet while she walked around, pretending like she didn't know he was there._

_He hated it. Couldn't pretend to himself that he liked any part of it. It was perverse and unpleasant. Sure, fun between consenting adults was all well and good. He understood about non-con fantasies, but it wasn't remotely exciting to him because of what Fenris had been through. It made him sick to his stomach, but it was what she wanted and so he did his utmost to walk the line between his own sense of decency and keeping his girlfriend satisfied._

_It wasn't_ always _that way, either. Sometimes it was normal sex, or as normal as Madeline liked anyway. Sometimes just rough sex. Cullen preferred that, took whatever lesser extremes she offered and ran with them. Satisfying her was hard work but it was worth it. She was the love of his life._

 _Musically, he performed constantly and during those months, he began to build something of a reputation for himself. They would cheer his name when he performed in the small circuit of clubs now. They_ knew _his name. Sometimes they knew the lyrics to his songs._

_It was around the sixth month that he was considering calling the agent, Aiden but before he had the chance to make a decision, Madeline's life fell spectacularly apart and his with it._

_*_

_Money didn't vanish overnight, but it sure as shit seemed like it. Madeline didn't understand why her cards were declined all of a sudden. Why she was getting calls about payments that were missed. By the time she managed to get in touch with her father, Cullen's worry was a palpable thing in his chest. He'd never seen her like this, so wrought and frantic._

_'No, I_ don't _understand!' she screamed down the phone at her father. 'How could you do this to me? You fucking piece of shit, I never want to see you again!'_

_Gambling, it seemed, was a terrible thing. An addiction unto itself, but when the Hawke well dried up, it dried fast. Debtors come calling, come to take everything that Madeline had grown up with. All her lovely things, all the luxuries she'd taken entirely for granted._

_Cullen helped best he could. Told her not to leave jewellery laying around in a box like that, told her to change the ownership papers of her car to his name, but she didn't believe him. She remained stuck in the perpetual belief that somehow, her father would fix everything._

_When bailiffs came knocking, they took everything, even as Madeline screamed and pled. They were large, impassive men; polite and rational with Cullen, who did not scream at them, only asked what was reasonable to leave behind. But the debt was vast and it had been building against her father for years. Everything was in his name. The apartment, the cars, the cards, the furniture, even her clothes had been paid for by his cards, his money._

_Madeline had Cullen drive her out to the family house in Kent, great big cottage where the old man had been living with his new wife, Madeline's real mother long since dead. Inside, it was clear to see right away that it had been emptied, much like her place. Anything of value had been stripped away and there was a notice of foreclosure on the kitchen countertop signed by the high courts._

_Cullen found her father upstairs, holding the only thing left of value that they'd missed in his right hand, finger still looped loosely around the trigger._

_*_

_Madeline detested being poor. She made no attempt to hide it from Cullen and in the weeks following her father's suicide, she fell into a deep, dark hole of depression that verged closer on violence than sadness. She lashed out constantly. Her anger was brittle and unpredictable. Sometimes she hit Cullen if he was close enough to reach, oftentimes for no obvious reason. It was awful, her loss. Cullen's heart broke for her even as he began to dread those moods, worst in the evenings._

_'I'm not living here,' she told him, looking around at the place he'd grown up in with a flat expression of barely controlled disdain that made his insides ache. 'I took care of you, now it's your turn, understand?'_

_He did._

_*_

_'Aiden, hi. Hi, this is Cullen. Um, Cullen Rutherford. We met a while ago at a club, it was—yeah, no, that's, yeah I wouldn't remember me either. Just that you gave me your card, told me to—yes, I know, but I had a lot going on and—oh, OK, sure. Great, amazing. Thanks. Yeah, I'll see you there. Thanks.'_

_*_

'Cullen, this is a big deal,' _Lee said, hustle and bustle in the background of her call doing nothing to distort her voice, source of absolute calm and strength for him._ 'Have you had someone look through the contract?'

_'Like who? A lawyer or something?'_

'Well, yeah.'

_'It seems pretty standard to me.'_

'But this _is_ a big deal,' _she said. '_ And you need to proceed carefully, make sure that you're not getting fucked over.'

 _Cullen hated that she said_ you _, now. He would never get past missing her and Fenris to the point where he felt poleaxed, their absence in his daily life manifesting as a physical ache sometimes. Before, it would have been_ we.

We need to proceed carefully.

_But now Cullen was alone in London, in a tiny flat he could barely afford, on the verge of signing a record deal with a small label, Aiden Wakelin poised as his agent._

_Two weeks ago, he'd packed up their family house with Rosalie and Cassie's help, baby Danny watching from his bouncer. Madeline refused to live there, refused to live anywhere but London, even if that meant a tiny place one tenth the size of the house Cullen had been forced to give notice on. Their family home, place he'd grown up._

_Rosalie hugged him when he cried, looking at each of the now empty rooms._ So much _had happened there, so much history. Lives lived in fraught desperation, rare moments of happiness that shone all the brighter in hindsight. His baby sister hugged him and held him up, took her share of stuff to the place she lived with her best friend and kindly offered to store Fenris's small box of things too. Cullen did not feel safe taking it with him, having it near Madeline._

_When they closed the door, keys through the letterbox, Cullen felt like a part of him was gone forever. It should have been cathartic, should have marked a turning point, but all it did was remind him that he was alone now._

_Alone with Madeline, which didn't really make sense but it was how he felt. Fenris was miles away, around the other side of the world and when he wrote to them, he spoke increasingly of his friend, of the medic Anders who Cullen had the distinct and very private impression that Fenris liked more than he was saying. Leliana made friends easily when she needed and she had several people in her university who she was close with, a young woman named Josephine especially. Rosalie travelled on and off, Bran had his family and his work._

_Cullen just had Madeline._

_And he had to proceed alone, now. Had big decisions to make_ alone _for the first time in his life since he and Fenris had sat down and pestered a moody redhead, curled around her battered, ancient copy of the Necronomicon._

_'I'll be careful,' he promised Lee, setting down the iron. Madeline liked her clothes to be freshly ironed and hung after they'd been washed but she didn't know how. What little comfort he could offer her, he would. Anything to put her in a more stable mood. 'How are your classes?'_

'They're good,' _Lee said and he could tell she was distracted._ 'Got to run, but text me later?'

_Cullen smiled sadly. 'Of course. Have a great day, love you.'_

'Love you too.'

_He'd barely set the phone down when Madeline walked in and it had his nervous system reeling because he knew without a shadow of a fucking doubt what was coming next._

_'Oh, you love her, do you?'_

_'Not like that, I've told you a thousand times.'_

_'Then why say it?'_

_'Because I do love her.'_

_'More than you love me?'_

_'In a different way.'_

_'Say you love me more than her.'_

_Despite knowing how bad the fallout would be, despite_ knowing _he could have made his life easier by lying, Cullen steeled himself best he could and said, 'I don't love you more than her.'_

_Her un-manicured hand cracked across his face, favoured method of hurting him, at least outside of the bedroom. It stung so bad that tears came streaming, sometimes accompanied by the phantom sensation of that one time Leliana had slapped him, the unbearable pain of that past moment, it debilitated him in the present._

_'How long have you been fucking her?' she snarled, low and trembling,_ unstable _. 'Lying, cheating bastard, come into my life and ruin it and now you can't even be faithful to me!'_

_Cullen didn't touch his cheek, knew it would only goad her further and she was already in a terrible mood, worse than usual because of his careless farewell to his best friend._

_'I_ am _faithful to you, I would never—'_

 _'She's_ nothing _compared to me, how can you even want her?'_

_'I don't, not like that. She's like my sister.'_

_'All those times you were_ snuggled _in bed with her and him, pathetic! You're so disgusting it makes my skin crawl! I don't even want to look at you! Get out! Go on, go shack up with your little bitch! GET OUT!'_

_*_

_He had nowhere to go, that was the worst of it. When she did this, locked him out and trashed the place in his absence, he had nowhere to go but walk around London. Luck was on his side that day; at least he had shoes on, had managed to grab his jacket and phone, but the car keys had been too far away and she hadn't stopped shoving until he was out of the door. December tended to be cold, but he never remembered it being this cold, not a day from his youth had him shivering in such a way._

_He walked aimlessly, letting himself get lost. It was always busy, always plenty of people around, cars stacked in a slow crawl as rush hour approached. Cullen walked through the Tanner Street underpass, veering away from the main roads. He trailed his hand over the rough brick, trying to root himself in the feeling of it, the grit._

_When he made it to the bridge, he leaned against the thick, heavy metal beams, massive rounded bolts the size of coins digging into his shoulders and he looked out at the river Thames. Behind him, cars moved endlessly, people walked across. Some true Londoners, some were tourists. The tourists were always_ happy _. The Londoners were not._

_Cullen stared down at the water, reciting facts to himself. He knew the bridge was not high enough to kill him on impact. The water was close enough that a fall would break him, but not kill him. He was a good swimmer and knew that drowning was painful enough to kick survival instincts into gear. The Thames was also completely filthy and he'd more likely end up with dysentery than peaceful death, or so he scolded himself._

_'Stupid,' he muttered, wiping away fresh tears with his jacket sleeve. He was being self-indulgent, overly dramatic. He was so often dramatic, so often_ too much, _Madeline told him all the time. Told him to man up, get over it, do what he needed to._

 _But that water was tempting. The lure of_ falling _was tempting. A quiet, sad part of Cullen wondered if he climbed the bridge to the very top and jumped, would_ that _do it? Probably, but then he'd never get to the top quick enough and likely end up on the news which, yeah. That was not better._

_He closed his eyes tightly then, thinking of Lee and Fenris. Of how it would be for them, getting a call like that. That same quiet, sly voice sulkily reminded him that they had others in their life now. Lee with Josie and Fenris with Anders._

_It was pathetic,_ he _was pathetic and he fucking knew it. Madeline was right. He was everything she said. Not man enough to fuck her properly, not strong enough to cope without his friends, not good enough to provide for her when she'd taken such good care of him in those early days. He was nothing, nowhere near good enough._

_He watched the skies begin to darken, body freezing as wind whipped over the dark grey waters of that grim, tempting river. His fingers were numb when the phone rang, made it hard to answer that number from an unknown region. His heart caught in his throat._

_'Hello?'_

_There was a beat, a small delay which indicated the call was coming from_ abroad _._

 _'_ Cullen _?'_

_He let out a serrated breath, a long shaky laugh, hot tears spilling down his icy cheeks. 'Fen,' he gasped, heart doing crazy things, whole body in flux. 'Oh my God, I can't believe you're calling.'_

'Hey, I'm sorry it's been so long. I've only just come out of training in a black site, no communication beyond letters. How are you?'

_Another laugh, a strange sound that had no business being associated with humour or happiness. Cullen clung to the phone, cradled it and closed his eyes._

_'I'm great,' he lied enthusiastically. 'I'm really good.'_

'You don't sound good.'

_'Got the worst cold,' Cullen told him, scrambling for control of himself. 'Christ, I've missed hearing your voice. What's happening with you? Tell me anything you can.'_

'Can't tell you much, obviously, beyond that it's all going really well. Are you…' _there was a small pause again, not the international delay this time. When he next spoke, it was quiet, private. '_ Cullen, what's wrong?'

_'Nothing.'_

_He could practically_ hear _Fenris frown._ 'You're lying to me.'

 _'Honestly, I just feel like shit,' Cullen laughed, letting himself sound nasal, letting his throat pull on each vowel. 'Come on, please. I don't want to talk about me. I missed you_ so _much! Tell me about your friend, Andrew.'_

 _'_ Anders _,' Fenris corrected easily, not distracted by the purposefully messed up name._ 'Cullen, I can hear that something is wrong, don't fuck with me like this. I've known you since you were six. What's happening? I've got a bit of time. Ten minutes at least. Whatever it is, I'm here.'

 _It was tempting, so fucking tempting to just spill his guts, tell Fenris everything. It had been so long since they'd spoken like this, since he'd heard his friend's voice. God, he was_ desperate _to tell him everything._

_'I_ _…' Cullen’s voice cracked and something in his heart threatened to give out but if it did, he wouldn't be able to control it. He'd beg Fenris to come home, he'd never let him leave again because without Fenris, without Leliana, he was only a shadow. An echo of his own strength when surrounded by them. His legs were numb with cold, his fingers wrapped around the phone as if it was Fenris's wrist, keeping him there. 'I'm sorry,' he said, wiping his nose. 'I'm such a twat, I just, it's hit me a bit hard, hearing your voice. I miss you every day and I wasn't ready for it. Me and Madeline had a row,' he added, just enough sadness in the laughter to make it ring true. 'I'm out walking, trying to cool off.'_

'What did you argue about?'

_It was easier to laugh that time, no matter how the tears came streaming. 'Ironing, if you can believe that.' He let out a gentle sigh that only trembled a very little with the sheer effort of control his body exerted. 'I'm OK, really. Relationships are tough, that's all.'_

_'Mm.'_

_Cullen knew that were Fenris there, he wouldn't have gotten away with such a lie, no matter how clever it was to intertwine it with half-truths and wry reflection. He could also tell that Fenris didn't completely buy it, even over the phone, but there wasn't much his best friend could do._

_He turned away from the water and started walking through the city. The lights were on now, he hadn't noticed. London was all ready for Christmas in a couple of weeks. The fairy lights twinkled and shone, small, evenly spaced trees glittering and glowing, tasteful decorations everywhere._

_'So, tell me about your friend?'_

_Fenris gave in._ 'He's not really my friend, per se, but we have a decent laugh when he's off his high horse not rambling endlessly about _politics_. Kind of a prat, aren't you?' _he added in a lower, teasing voice to someone else._

'Vote Labour!' _an unfamiliar male voice yelled in highly perfunctory manner. Fenris snickered and returned his attentions to Cullen._

 _'_ He's all right _,_ for a medic. Has a knife named _Justice_ , if you can believe that.’

 _In the background, the same man laughed and said,_ ‘What’s wrong with naming my knife?’

 _‘_ Only twats name their weapons, _' Fenris pointed out, but Cullen could hear unmistakable fondness in it._

_'Do you like him?' he asked outright because he didn't know any other way to ask Fenris a question, direct or nothing, that had always been their style._

_Fenris paused. 'Yes,' he answered slowly. 'It's different though.'_

_'Different can be good,' Cullen said, turning towards Tanner Street once more. 'And I'm glad you're excelling, that you're doing so well.'_

_'_ I miss you,' _Fenris said. '_ And Lee. Miss you both so much. That's the hardest thing, being away from you two. How are the kids, Rosie and Bran?'

 _Cullen laughed, stronger now. He felt centred in Fenris's strength, like just talking to his friend could heal him somehow. 'They're hardly kids, man. Rosie is off travelling, exploring the world off her own back before her nursing degree starts in January and Bran is a Father. He's a fucking_ Dad _, can you believe that?'_

'It's incredible. Lee sent me pictures of Daniel, of all of them. But they'll always be kids to me.'

_'Me too, I suppose.' Even if they were both excelling far beyond him, leaving him behind, just like Lee and Fenris._

'How's Madeline?'

_The name brought Cullen up short, back to the present time and he realised he was almost home again. 'Yeah, she's doing OK. Difficult after what happened, y'know. Her Dad and all.'_

'Yeah. What about you? What's happening with your music?'

_'I've signed with Aiden and a label wants to release the songs as an album, I think Lee told you?'_

'She did, yeah. What stage is it at?'

_'In the really boring stage,' Cullen chuckled, sitting down on the doorstep of the front entrance to his building. 'I go in a few times a week to a studio and work on the songs. It's pretty repetitive.'_

'Really? So making an album isn't any fun?'

_Cullen tried not to think about how different it would be, if he didn't have to worry about Madeline and what mood she'd be in what he got home. 'Just a lot of work for no reward so far.'_

'Well, hopefully things will turn around soon,' _Fenris said firmly but now with a definite air of mild distraction. Cullen had been waiting for it, knew it was coming, but it still made his insides clench to hear someone in the background muttering something, pulling Fenris_ away _._ 'I have to go,' _he said. '_ But I'll try to write before Christmas. Hug everyone for me when you see them?'

_Cullen put his hand over his eyes, voice jarringly normal. 'Course. Make us proud, yeah?'_

‘Love you.'

_It cut out before he could reply and that was probably for the best._

_*_

_She was never sorry, not really. When he would return to the flat, gaze lowered, heart jackhammering from nerves, she would still be disgusted with him, but most times she would have calmed. He would apologise, always apologise so much, too much and eventually, she'd relent. Forgive him. Let him come home and if he apologised well enough, she might generously offer him a kiss._

_Kissing him tended to put her in a_ playful _mood._

_And Cullen could no longer deny how much he hated it when she wanted to play._

_Since the death of her Father, everything in their lives had taken a dark turn and sex was no different. Whereas before, he'd managed to do what she wanted by hurting himself, a kind of punishment that eased the worst of the sickness and guilt, the dynamic had changed now._

_She had no patience for his bathroom ritual, she denied him that sense of equilibrium and had no kindness when he showed hesitation. It made her angry, made her violent. Cullen_ dreaded _it; a cold, sick twist in his guts. Fear was hard to fight through when trying to perform, it really was. The more he dreaded it, the worse it would be for lack of performance on his part._

 _What had once been a game with boundaries and rituals was now closer to an actual_ fight. _She wanted it that way, wanted it to be violent and Cullen_ _… he couldn't do it. She wanted him to hurt her and he_ couldn't. S _he would turn livid and hurt him instead._ _It was a nightmare._

_A fucking nightmare._

_'What's wrong with you?' she would demand, voice trembling when she walked away. Cullen had tried, really_ tried _not to curl up protectively, but she hit so hard and his reflexes were difficult to suppress. His ears were ringing and he tasted blood, knew she'd split his lip at some point with her mother's ring, the one he'd been able to convince the bailiffs to let her keep because, unbeknownst to her, it hadn't actually been worth that much. Madeline had an incredible backhander and she always favoured her ring hand. 'You can't even do this now? Can't even satisfy me?'_

_Slowly, sensing that she was leaving, he began to uncurl, hands sliding away from his face. 'Won't hurt you,' he panted. 'I can't, Madeline.'_

_'Maybe I'll find someone who_ can _, then!' she scoffed and slammed the door behind her._

_*_

_Christmas was awful. Madeline had no one else to spend it with and so she came with him to Bran and Cassie's new place. House almost as big as their family home, except it wasn’t ex-council, not in a rough area. Lovely place that Cassie took the time to decorate properly, wallpaper and borders, art canvases and matching fake flowers. All the stuff Cullen and the others hadn’t thought of because just putting food on the table was usually the priority._

_Maybe the worst thing about it was how lovely Madeline was to everyone else. How she seemed like her old self. Laughing and hugging them, playing with Rosalie's hair and talking to her quietly about sex, about experiences that Rosalie was not yet familiar with. That made Cullen's gut clench, wanted to tell Rosalie not to_ listen _to Madeline, because experience wasn't always good and it certainly didn't lend qualification to guidance._

_He cooked in Bran's kitchen, bigger than their old one and much nicer. Bran had a different job, far better paying. He worked hard, went to night school for additional qualifications to become a real, full blown mechanic. Cullen let himself feel just a tiny bit proud that he'd never allowed Bran to drop out of school, knew it would have been an additional slog, more things to study by night._

_Cullen held Bran's son, baby Danny. He smelled his head, felt the silky soft fuzz that was baby hair. That unique scent of milk and skin made him feel centred, calm. Daniel liked him, would always fall asleep on Cullen and Cassie joked that he should come live with them. It made Cullen's throat tight, how much he would have loved that._

_Lee came late, trains delayed and the shift in atmosphere at her arrival was nothing new, but Cullen hated it all the same. Leliana took one look at Cullen and then she turned her gaze to Madeline. It was cold and flat, subtly accusatory._

_'Come on,' Bran said, looking between them. 'It's Christmas.'_

_'Mmm,' Madeline agreed, relaxed and comfortable. 'Christmas is for family, I agree.'_

_Cullen stilled, looked over. Anger was so unfamiliar to him that he barely recognised it when he felt it. 'Lee is family.'_

_She made him pay for that later, of course. She made him cry and beg and bleed, but no matter how hard she hit him, she couldn’t get him to take it back._

_*_

_'Why won't you leave her?' Lee asked when he drove her to the train station on Boxing Day. She spoke quietly, tone thin with restraint, as if she was only just keeping herself from screaming at him._

_Cullen sighed. It was exhausting, this lie. 'Why would I leave her?'_

_'Because your lip is split and your face is all marked up. Because you hardly ever speak in front of her. You flinch when she touches you. You're not yourself.'_

_'I love her and it's not like that, at all.'_

_She looked at him then, the pair parked in front of the station, neither moving, neither wanting to leave, despite being pressed for time._

_'Why are you lying to me?' she asked, genuinely confused. 'Do you seriously believe I’d think any less of you? I can't understand why you're shutting me out like this, Cullen. You need help and you've only to ask for it. I_ know _she hurts you. I know she's controlling.' Her hand rested atop his on the wheel, cool and light. 'You're safe with me. You can be honest.'_

 _It was true and he knew it. He_ could _be honest. Tell her everything. She would never judge him, she would love him, comfort him, make everything better because no one fixed things like Leliana. She would save him, he knew that, bone deep, but she would do it completely, no holds barred._

_She might leave University, put her degree at risk. He and Fenris had worked hard to convince her to go, that everything was fine and they could manage without her._

_This was the first time she'd had anything for herself and he knew how much she loved it there. The challenges, the resources, the friendships. She could come out of it with a masters, unless he fucked it all up._

_'Maybe,' he said through gritted teeth. 'I just want to stand on my own two feet, ever think of that? That I just want to be with my girlfriend and be happy?' She held his hand tighter, despite what was coming out of his mouth. 'Th-that I don't need you to baby me, did you—did you consider that? I'm_ fine _!' he said, tears spilling uselessly, fucking useless waste of skin that he was as she shifted and took him into her arms, not remotely convinced by his pathetic attempts to push her away. She held him as much as she could, given the nature of car seats. He wanted to push her away, warn her not to get close because there was something rotten and vile inside him, something tainted and sharp and if it cut her, it would infect her and he_ _… he had to contain it._

_'I love you,' she told him, stroking his hair, her own voice tight and thick. 'I love you and I promise, everything will be all right if you leave her. You can come and live with me.'_

_Live with her, ruin her time there, drag her down, infect her, taint her, destroy her happiness. No, no, no._

_'I don't_ want _that!' he insisted wildly, but it was far less effective when his throat kept giving out, when his breath was coming fast and shallow and this was the absolute worst time to have a panic attack, it really was. He had to keep her away, had to keep her safe in her little bubble elsewhere, but it was_ hard _, so fucking hard not to give in. She was soft and strong, best woman he'd ever known and she had always taken care of him, looked out for him. 'I'm fine, you hear me?'_

_'I hear you,' she said, kissing his cheek and her tears mixed with his own, he was sure of it. 'I hear you, but I don't believe you.'_

_It was too much. Too much. How was he meant to cope? What the fuck was he supposed to do? Crack and give in, ruin her life? Fenris would come back, their path interrupted for_ him _. No._

_He pushed her away. Tried not to hurt her, to be careful but she wasn’t having it and he had to push harder. He didn’t think he’d ever hated himself so much. Utterly detested himself for doing that. For pushing her away, for any measure of roughness. He would punish himself for it later, would let Madeline do whatever she wanted as recompense._

_'Get out,' he said, shaking all over. ‘Get away from me.’_

_She did just that. Got out of the car, wiping her eyes and hauling her bags from the backseat and then walked away without a word. He sat in the car, watched her train through the fence and only when she was gone, moving on to better, safer places did he let out the scream that had been building inside him._

_*_

_He did everything Madeline wanted that night, he hurt her and got lost in the role. Bad man, terrible man. Violent, evil, sick. He put his hand around her throat and he fucked her like she so desperately wanted, let himself feel every part of the role she demanded of him. It still wasn't_ quite _enough, he could never hurt her that much, but it was more than he'd ever given and when she fought back, he relished it. Let the pain ground him, anchor around his neck, knife in his heart. He did everything she wanted of him. The cost for punishment was high._

_*_

_'I can't do this anymore,' he said the next day, head in his hands at the tiny table in their tiny kitchen. 'I can't. We need to break up.'_

_She stood there for a while and he was too much of a coward to look at her, but a response was coming, his nerves were curling in dread of such a thing._

_'We can't break up,' she said, sound almost confused. 'I'm pregnant.'_

_*_

_The first time was the worst because he really believed it. He thought of baby Daniel, of the way his skin had smelled, of how tiny and warm he was. Cullen couldn't help it, he'd been stupidly, pitifully ecstatic, right before he crashed headlong into a well of guilt over what had happened last night. His fingerprints were still around her throat as she made coffee, serene and knowing. He cried when he begged for forgiveness, told her over and over he hadn’t known that she carried his child._

_Madeline forgave him and after that, things seemed to reach a stabilising point. Cullen could hardly believe it when he went to work at a local construction site and she didn't complain, didn't beg him to stay. Kissed him goodbye and reminded him to get milk on the way home._

_It levelled out for a while. She became astonishingly, almost suspiciously calm. Content. Kind. He worked on the album, had no belief it would amount to anything, but he did it anyway. He worked with Aiden, a man who he didn't especially like but seemed to be good at his job._

_Rosalie sent him her first selfie from Uni and Cullen smiled, showed Madeline and Madeline had them take one and send it back in return, the pair smiling happily, arms around each other. Cullen looked at that picture a lot, believed it then, that they were happy. That things had turned a corner. She still wanted the same from him in bed, but there was no violence now. It sickened him to his stomach, the things she wanted to pretend but she wasn't asking him to_ hurt _her, so he did it, did whatever she wanted because she was carrying his baby and he loved her more than anything then._

_'Tell your friends,' she told him while he was fucking her one night. 'Call them and tell them now.'_

_Dazed, sweaty from the_ hours _spent driving her steadily towards completion, he shook himself, wiped damp curls from his eyes. 'What?'_

 _Madeline looked down at him, straddling him fully, his cock inside her, a tight metal ring making it impossible for him to come. It was one of those rare, beautiful times when she just wanted_ normal _sex, would only slap him around a little, call him names, but still, it was the most normal sex they ever had. He could have cried when she'd shoved him on his back and strapped him into the ring, but this…_

_'No, I can't.'_

_She already had his phone in hand. 'Call Leliana,' she said, no hint of leniency in her tone. 'Tell her we're having a baby.'_

_She began to move on top of him again, naked and beautiful, her flat, flawless stomach glistening with sweat as her long, siren like hair swayed and moved. She'd always been beautiful._

_Phone at his ear, Cullen struggled to slow his breathing, to exert control but it was almost impossible to calm his body because it had been hours. His throat was dry, nervous system wrecked from being denied release for so long, tears trailing down into his hair as it rang and rang and he prayed that she wouldn't answer, prayed that—_

_'_ Hey _,' Lee answered and he knew he'd woken her then, didn't even know what time it was, but her soft, sleepy voice was unmistakable._ 'You OK?'

 _'Lee,' he struggled to get out, utterly trapped by the twin sensations of his heart and his body, warring grievously like black and white and he was helpless but to be forever grey. It was_ wrong _and he didn't want this, didn't want to do this but she'd told him to do it and that meant he had to. She was tight and slick all around him and it had been_ hours. _His heart felt like it would collapse, his cock raw and pained, desperate for release. He was panting, crying. 'Madeline is pregnant.'_

'What?'

_'She's pregnant, w-we're having a baby.'_

_'Tell her you love me more than anyone.'_

_'I love her—ahh, I love her more th-than anyone.'_

_Silence from the other end made his insides burn but he couldn't control himself, couldn't stop any of it. He openly wept, body convulsing in the throes of the best and worst feelings, fighting for dominance, ruining him in the process._

_'More than her,' Madeline insisted, fucking herself on him harder, faster and oh God, he would die soon, this was going to kill him._

_'I,' he cried, all control long gone as his heart broke. 'I love her more than you.'_

_Madeline took the ring off and the world imploded. He couldn't think, couldn't_ be _as something far too painful to be called pleasure rocked him. His body convulsed, gripped by primordial possession, demonic and dark in nature. He came and he_ came _and a soft, loving darkness surrounded him as water surrounds a rock far from shore, sweetly drowning him._

_When he came back, Madeline was kissing him deeply, not seeming to care that he wasn't responding, that he was essentially a doll._

_'Very good,' she praised._

_*_

_It was mid-February when she told him she'd lost the baby. He grieved and he cried for that too. Madeline blamed him, she inflicted guilt upon him the likes of which he'd never known. Though she didn't cry, never shared with him the details, she made it clear how much he was to blame for what he'd done to her that night._

_Cullen fell deeper into despair, but he kept himself going. He worked and he paid rent. He ironed her clothes and he recorded music. The songs he'd written came together and took shape. There was sadness in all his songs, he heard it when they played it back, never quite satisfied with what he slaved over and so ensued hours and_ hours _of additional work, of singing the same line over and over and fucking over until he hated it, until he never wanted to hear his own words again._

 _He still performed live twice a week. The audience kept growing. Cullen couldn't understand it, couldn't make sense of why anyone wanted to hear him sing, but Aiden told him it was good, that he was building a_ base _and that would mean sales. Sales would mean money and money just might make Madeline happy._

_He'd been with Madeline a year when she told him she was pregnant again._

_She would tell him she was pregnant, show him positive tests, even take them in front of him. Pee on that thin little strip, let him watch as a second line formed. Show him the box the strip came from as a guide. Second line meant pregnant._

_She always "lost" the baby. Always blamed him._

_It took him another year to realise that none of it was real._

*****

**-Part Two-**

_'He's met someone else' Leliana said as they stood side by side at the airport. 'I just know it.'_

_Cullen would turn twenty two in a few months and he didn't want to hear such ridiculous things. He craned to see over the outpouring of people, people who had the audacity to_ not _be Fenris. Two whole years, two_ long, unbearable _years since he'd seen him._

_'Are you listening to me?'_

_'He wouldn't do that.'_

_'You can't know—oh, there he is!'_

_Heart pounding, Cullen saw the same thing Lee had, flash of silvery white hair and the shape of his face, his eyes. Cullen moved forward, almost at a run and Fenris caught sight of him, broke out into a massive grin right before they collided._

_It was a great big backslapping thing, strong arms around him and Cullen gripped him back just as hard. His friend smelled of soap and leather, of metal but it was_ him _. It was finally,_ finally him. _Something clicked in his chest, like a bone settling back into position and he felt like he could breathe a little easier just for seeing him, feeling him._

 _'Missed you, missed you, missed you!' Cullen was saying as they stood rooted to the spot, ignoring the_ looks _from passers-by. Fenris had a backpack over his shoulder, wore a leather jacket he hadn't been in possession of when he'd left. They parted so that Fenris could hug Leliana and it was much the same. Same eagerness, same honesty of emotion except that Fenris hadn't_ kissed _Cullen when they'd parted, not like that. Not right on the lips, not turning slightly, hands sliding into her hair as he muttered personal, intimate things that Cullen politely pretended he didn't already know. He picked up Fenris's other bag and waited until they were done._

_It had been a long time since he'd felt this happy._

_They kissed once more, Lee pushing his hair back off his face and then moving away completely. 'Welcome back,' she said._

_'Good to be back.'_

_*_

_Cullen drove and they sat in the back seat, making out. Cullen didn't mind, it didn't bother him in the slightest. He was happy for them, ridiculously so. His two favourite people in the world who loved each other so much, their happiness was his._

_Fenris was staying with Lee in London, in the flat she was sharing with her friend Josie for the summer. Cullen had sorely wanted Fenris to come with him, to stay with_ him _but that_ _… that was sadly not possible._

 _Later, they'd go to his place, the new place in London, slightly bigger because he'd worked tirelessly to convince Madeline that they could have a nicer life if they just gave up the_ bragging rights _of living so centrally. Fenris had said he wanted to see Cullen's place and meet Madeline. For now though, it was Branson's home in Kent, barely ten minutes from their old family home._

_His best friends stopped kissing, Fenris muttering something to Lee in French that made her laugh and Cullen smiled, shaking his head because their happiness had always been contagious._

_Fenris caught his eye in the rear-view mirror and his expression shaped into something with intent._

_'So,' he said, holding his gaze the way hardly anyone else could. 'Fill me in.'_

_Leliana looked away, moving her attentions to the passing countryside adjacent to the motorway leading back from the airport. Cullen almost wanted to roll his eyes, but his good mood was such that it felt positively bulletproof, despite the obvious set up._

_'What did Lee tell you?'_

_'Everything,' Leliana answered honestly, but not unkindly. 'Obviously.'_

_Cullen sighed. 'It's not what you think.'_

_Fenris was patient, voice deeply soothing when he said, 'It's not what I think?'_

_'Yeah, I can_ tell _what you think. I'm sure what Lee told you sounds bad, but that's not how it is.'_

_'How is it?'_

_'I love her,' he said. 'I love her so much and no, she's not perfect but neither am I. We make it work, the two of us, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.'_

_It was almost word for word what Madeline preferred him to say, he could almost hear her saying it even as he spoke. 'And besides,' he added firmly, slanting an eyebrow at Lee in the mirror. 'People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Burning the candle at both ends, running yourself ragged with work and studying.'_

_'Hardly comparative.'_

_'What we're trying to say,' Cullen went on, clearly teasing now as he spoke to Fenris. 'Is that we fell apart without you, completely and utterly.' He turned off the motorway._

_Fenris let it go for the rest of the journey and amazingly, so did Leliana. She rested her head on his shoulder, the pair holding hands and sometimes kissing. Fenris asking about_ things _didn't dent Cullen's happiness. His other best friend's return would inevitably bring about problems, but Cullen had learnt to take the good wherever he could, rare as it was._

_Bran's place was lovely and Cullen adored being there. Daniel was walking now, brightly chattering away half nonsense, half very distinct words. Bran and Fenris hugged tightly and Cullen was only a little surprised to see that when they parted, Bran wiped away a few tears. Only just twenty, a father with a job that Cullen would have killed for years ago, Bran was everything Cullen wished he could be. He wasn't bitter, wasn't jealous, just happy for his brother. He was well aware of his own shortcomings, it wasn't news to him._

_It was hugs all around and when Fenris held Daniel, something passed over him, some strange expression that Cullen hadn't seen for a long time. Lee looked away and helped Cassie make tea. Without Madeline, it was noisier, far more rambunctious and relaxed. Rosalie would join them tomorrow when she got back from Scotland and so with just them, the house was noisy. Everyone was happy, boisterously so._

_It wasn't surprising either when Cullen used the bathroom and Fenris followed him._

_'Let's get it over and done with,' Fenris said, following him inside, locking the door behind them, way they'd done a million times before. 'Lee thinks Madeline is hurting you.'_

_Cullen rolled his eyes, unzipped himself while Fenris sat on the side of the bath. 'She doesn't like her.'_

_'I can count on one hand the times we've spoken on the phone and every single time something has been wrong.'_

_'Nothing was wrong, except that time I was sulking around outside. You always seem to call when we're arguing.'_

_Fenris watched him carefully. 'You've gotten better at lying,' he pointed out flatly. 'But you are still_ lying, _I can tell.'_

 _'Oh, fuck off,' Cullen said pleasantly, doing the_ shake _before he zipped back up again. 'I haven't seen you in two years and we have to do this now? They don't get along. I won't lie, Madeline can be a bitch,' he chuckled, shaking his head, all light and breezy. 'But she's got a good heart and I love her, I really do. We're a great fit.'_

_He dropped the lid of the toilet, sat on it after he pulled the flush, makeshift seat as they faced one another. Cullen couldn't run. If he ran, Fenris would know he was hiding. Had to front it._

_'Why is she a bitch?'_

_Cullen inclined his head. 'She was raised with money, pretty spoilt right up until it was all yanked from underneath her. It's difficult for her to let that go sometimes. She can be a snob, sometimes she can be jealous. I think that to a normal person like Madeline, maybe our_ _…' he gestured between Fenris, himself and the door, representative of Leliana. 'Friendship can be misconstrued.' He laughed, shaking his head. 'I probably shouldn't have told her about how we all used to sleep in the same bed sometimes. So yeah, she can be a bitch. She can be a proper pain in my arse, I won't lie, but I love her and she loves me.'_

_Throughout it, Fenris watched him. It was an amazing thing, the way Fenris watched people, had always been impressive but now, it was like his best friend could see through him completely. Two years doing fuck knows what had given him additional focus, not to mention how it had built him up. Fenris had always been smaller than Cullen, but he was stronger now, Cullen could tell. Something in the way he carried himself just made Cullen certain that should anyone ever try anything, Fenris could probably break them in half. He seemed quietly, calmly confident in his own lethality and his instincts, Cullen could also tell, had been just as finely honed as his body._

_Fenris blinked after a while and he slowly looked away. 'I shouldn't have left.'_

_'Jesus Christ!' Cullen laughed, exasperation brushing close to genuine panic, making it seem all the more real. Good lying was all about interweaving it with truth, Cullen knew. 'I don't know what else I can say to convince you. You'll meet her later, make your own mind up.' He clapped his thighs and got to his feet, decisive and loud, relaxed and happy. 'C'mon, let's go play with the baby.'_

_*_

_It wasn't just lying that Cullen had gotten better at. He'd learnt how to compartmentalise too. That was important, essential in many ways. Like how he could be genuinely happy to have Fenris back but also, in a separate box, be terrified about it. How he would have fun with his family and yet feel a sick sense of dread the entire time. Dual emotions were a way of life now. He adjusted, survived. Madeline had taught him a lot in their two years._

_And he knew he was convincing, mostly. Rosalie and Bran got along fine with Madeline when she accompanied him and if they cornered him in the kitchen, it was to ask things like why he was so pale, was he not eating enough? Working too hard on the ever delayed album?_

_Lee was never convinced and so Cullen ended up avoiding her for the most part, at least avoiding being alone with her. It was self-preservation as much as anything because Madeline might really kill him if she caught him alone with her._

_His girlfriend remained convinced that he was sleeping with Leliana and no matter how much he worked to assure her that he would never cheat, that he didn't see his best friend like that, she never listened. If they got into an argument of that kind, it would just have to run its course. He would lock himself away in his mind, let her do what she needed and only resurface when she was done, irritably telling him to clean up._

_It was shameful, deeply so. Madeline was taller than Leliana and she was six years older than Cullen, but that didn't make it any less shameful that she could quite literally beat him black and blue. It wasn't that she was stronger than him, because Cullen knew if he ever tried to defend himself, he_ would _have been able to. His body had always been strong, heavyset and broad-shouldered. He still ran in the mornings, pretending Fenris was by his side and his main income still revolved around physical jobs. It wasn't that she could overpower him, it was that when she hit him, she was strong enough to really hurt him. She was spiteful and clever and he'd learnt that it was always better to just_ let _her do what she needed, rather than curl up protectively. If he did that, she would claw, tear at his hair, likely draw blood in her attempts to force him to unfurl._

_So, he stood and let her hurt him when they argued which was often. Her temper was non-existent and no matter how he crept around her, walked on eggshells and did everything he could to keep her happy, it never really worked. She was depressed and she was unstable, he knew the signs, but there was no convincing her to see a doctor, to seek support. She'd told him once that her mother had borderline personality disorder and when he Googled it, many of the symptoms matched up with the very worst of Madeline, but he didn't dare point that out to her._

_Sex between them was the absolute worst of it. They so rarely had sex anymore that anytime she began kissing him, undressing him, he felt panic creep around his heart, squeezing him to death, vice-like grip of pure terror. She wanted awful things, always had when he looked back, but these were so much worse. He could never do it, not anymore. It wasn't that he refused, just that he literally_ could not _do it._

_Her anger at this particular brand of failure was nuclear._

_More than once she'd tried to cut him with a knife. Not to kill him, not to stab him, but just to cut him. He'd stopped her, but only barely and she made him feel sick with guilt for weeks about the bruises around her wrists._

_'If you won't satisfy me,' she would say, pulling on her coat, checking her makeup in the mirror while Cullen slowly returned to his own body, skin stinging, bones aching. 'I'll find someone who can.'_

_Cullen didn't resent her for it. Part of him was just relieved she was gone for a few hours, off letting other men do God only knew what to her, giving her what she needed whereas Cullen could not. He liked those times best, twisted as it was. She would be gone for hours, sometimes all night and he could shower, clean the flat, make himself dinner and eat in peace. Sometimes he would write to Fenris, sometimes he'd send Lee a cheerful text, telling her he loved her, as if that came remotely close to making up for how much he'd shut her out over the last year._

_And when Madeline returned, freshly fucked and mussed, she was always very smug. Thoroughly sated, viciously satisfied. She would initially be cruel, but it was the bland variant. Telling him he'd brought it upon himself, demanding to know if he was jealous. He answered the way she liked, said of course he was jealous, that it ate him alive with envy; complete fiction. He often wished she'd fall in love with someone else, one of her many faceless men. That she'd let him go._

_'I'll always come back to you,' she promised, settling atop him wherever he was in the flat, unfamiliar, cheap aftershave clinging to her skin. 'Could never leave you, my love.'_

_He wished for things that would never happen but he made his peace with it. Lee was happy, she had so many friends and was absolutely smashing it at Uni. Fenris was doing what he needed, pushing and becoming the best version of himself. Bran was so deliriously in love with Cassie and Daniel, more and more successful every time Cullen saw him. Rosalie was a beautiful free spirit, she drifted in and out of his life as she pleased. He didn't mind that she'd given up on her nursing degree. Travelling made her happy. She was born to roam, to freely wander the earth and make her own way and of everyone, she was the one he envied most, if that was the word for it. To leave, to wander wherever and never have to worry because everyone he loved was fine. They were fine._

_He made his peace and he lived what life was his to live._

_The album had been delayed due to the recording label literally going under before anything could happen. They'd gone into bankruptcy and, Aiden explained irritably, Cullen had to wait a year before the rights to his songs could be released. It was a whole messy thing but Cullen didn't mind that either. He had so much going on just keeping Madeline happy that it was good to have that part of his life on pause._

_He wrote songs in a small, black notebook. Kept it hidden from her because she was likely to destroy it if she knew it was important to him. When he was away from her, he wrote words and lyrics on the tiny, cramped pages. Filled them up and squinted down at them, eyes sometimes a little blurry in the evenings. He heard the music in his head, but didn't often play. She didn't like it when he played._

_'Madeline,' he said, hanging his coat on their small rack in their London flat. 'This is Fenris.'_

_'Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you!' she exclaimed sweetly. 'Cullen has told me so much about you, his_ brother _by all but blood. I'm so thrilled to put a face to the name!'_

_Cullen watched with an outwardly perfected expression of relaxed contentment as she wrapped herself delicately around Fenris, who remained somewhat stiff and, at best, polite._

_The_ hug _lasted too long and Cullen tried to ignore how it wasn't only for Leliana's benefit, that lingering touch. Lee eventually huffed and pushed past Cullen, headed for his kitchen._

_It had been months since Lee had even been inside, but she went right for the kettle and that made Cullen smile. He would’ve loved to have her round more, all the time even. She was staying in the city for the summer, living with her friend Josie who Cullen had yet to meet and Fenris was to stay with them. They would be nearby. Maybe if today went well, he could see more of them._

_'You want tea?' she asked, already testy which made Cullen's nerves tighten miserably. He wished they got along better, wished that Lee saw Madeline how Cassie, Bran and even Rosalie saw her._

_'He doesn't drink tea anymore,' Madeline said, trailing inside the kitchen, Fenris behind her. 'Do you, baby?'_

_Leliana's brow lifted. 'Really? Been drinking tea all his life and now, suddenly, he doesn't like it?'_

_Cullen laughed. 'Coffee's fine.'_

_'You hate coffee.'_

_'Not my kind,' Madeline said, dripping saccharine with her wide, painted smile. 'But by all means, make one for yourself,_ Leli _. Make yourself at home.'_

_This had been a bad idea, bad, bad fucking idea and Cullen regretted it horribly, even as he forced his smile to stay in place._

_'Don't call her that,' Fenris said, moving past Madeline to help Leliana._

_Madeline blinked, reeling ever so slightly. 'Pardon?'_

_Fenris looked at her flatly. 'Don't call her Leli. She doesn't like it.'_

_'Ah, let me help,' Cullen said, tiny little bit breathless definitely smiling too much. He could be better than this, lie better, do better, come the fuck_ on _._

_Madeline recovered fast. 'What should I call her, then?'_

_'You could call her Lee. You could even speak directly to her, if you had the balls.’_

_Christ._

_'But_ Lee _is what her friends call her,' Madeline said, leaning back against the side, crossing her arms. 'And she detests me.'_

_Leliana laughed entirely without mirth. 'I really do. You're disgusting, Madeline.'_

_Cold, brown eyes slid onto Cullen expectantly._

_'Don't talk about her like that,' he warned softly but with an undertone of insistence that he hoped would make this stop, make it all stop, because later they would leave and it would be_ awful _when they did._

_'It's a nice place,' Fenris said, looking around, stirring three teas, one of them most definitely for Cullen which made him deeply nervous. 'Whose name are you renting in?'_

_Slowly, Cullen answered, 'Mine?'_

_'Good. And you're still working?'_

_'Yeah, of course, but—'_

_'Then you're leaving, Madeline,' Fenris said, pushing Cullen's tea towards him and facing the horribly silent woman standing opposite them. 'Pack your things and leave. If you do this without causing a scene, we'll give you ten thousand pounds.'_

_Oh God, Cullen was going to die. She was going to murder him, properly this time. His lungs turned to ice, no breath forthcoming._

_'The money is for Cullen's sake,' Leliana added, stirring her tea by Fenris's side. 'He wouldn't see you on the streets, he's far too kind, far too under your spell to realise what a complete and utter cunt you are.'_

_She was going to stab him, oh Christ. Later, later, later she was going to get a knife and stab him._

_'So you'll take the money,' Fenris repeated, slow and unwavering, never once blinking. 'And you'll leave him._ Today _. Do you understand?'_

 _Cullen closed his eyes, body coming under assault from dread and panic unlike anything he'd ever known, his whole life falling to pieces around him and later,_ later _, he would suffer like he'd never suffered before. Why, why, why had he ever thought this was a good idea? Fuck._

_Madeline simply said, 'OK, then.'_

_His eyes flew open, breath punching out of his chest fast enough that he let slip a little noise, horribly weak thing. Madeline was calm. She was far too calm. Detached, almost._

_'Just like that?' Lee asked, eyes narrow._

_'I'll leave,' Madeline said with a delicate shrug. 'If that's what Cullen wants.'_

_There it was. The crux of everything._ What Cullen Wanted.

_He'd long ago forgotten what it was to really want anything beyond non-weaponised quiet, beyond time to shower. To make things clean and to cook. To work, to write his words and make them into silent songs that only he could hear. He wanted happiness for his friends but the same for himself, that was long gone._

_Neither Lee nor Fenris looked at him. 'He's not in his right mind to make decisions like that, not after what you've done to him.'_

_Madeline frowned. 'Don't talk about him like that,' she scolded, but there was a razor thin edge of_ teasing _in it. Like Cullen was stupid, like he was a child. Madeline was mostly unmoved by the scene, her confidence in the situation giving her cast-iron assurances. 'He's standing right there, after all. Cullen, baby. What do you want?'_

 _'No, no,' Fenris said, clipped and polite, despite the absolute steel beneath it. It was the way he'd talked to the social worker years ago, the way he spoke to people who posed a threat to them, their family. 'Cullen doesn't get a say. You're_ leaving _and you're leaving today, one way or another.'_

_'If he doesn't want me to leave, why would I?'_

_Fenris stirred his tea. 'You're leaving, one way or another.’_

_Cullen dropped his face into his hands, hiding away, head swimming with terror that had his nerves jangling and shivering. Adrenaline pulsing, wrecking his heart._

_Madeline laughed, the bad kind. It meant that later on, when they were alone, she would let that mask drop and Cullen's punishment would come due and it would be fucking_ monstrous _._

_'What exactly are you accusing me of?'_

_Lee sneered. 'You know what you do.'_

_Cullen heard soft footfalls and he let his hands drop to his sides, trembling badly as Madeline approached him. 'What? Do I punch him, scratch him, hmm? Baby,' she cooed, pet name making his skin crawl. 'Do I hurt you?'_

_'No,' he said, swallowing hard and then trying again because it needed to be stronger, the denial needed to be real and stout and steady. 'You don't hurt me.'_

_'I'm not going anywhere,' Madeline stated with unshakable belief in her situation. 'He loves me and I love him. We're made for each other.'_

_Cullen could see, even peripherally, how angry that made Leliana but Fenris barely reacted. He was steady, he did not burn with an anger that was hot to the touch like Lee. He was the ocean, calm and eternal, he would never falter. Cullen stared then and he tried to remember what his life had been like before Fenris had left, before he'd become_ _…_ this _._

_He'd been so strong once. The man who'd schemed recklessly to get himself kidnapped so he could help save Fenris. Cocky, idiotic kid who got glassed in the face for his bravado. Dropped out of school to raise his brother and sister. Overcame a drug addiction, kept Fenris alive, kept his family together, despite everything._

_He'd been Cullen, once, a long time ago._

_Madeline was talking, she was talking_ for him _as she sometimes did and he couldn't do anything besides let her. It would be bad enough when his friends left and everything went back to normal, he didn't need to make it worse._

 _But Fenris was there now. He had not been for the entirety of their relationship, not since he'd first met Madeline. Fenris was back now and he was right there, watching Cullen in a way that made it very clear he was_ not _going to leave._

_Cullen didn't dare hope._

_Lee and Madeline were rapid-fire insulting one another, their hatred making itself plain as day._

_'_ _… the audacity to stand there, making your case when you've been all over him the last two years, slutting yourself like a whore while leading on his best friend! Did you know that, Fenris? Did you know she's been cheating on you with your_ brother _? Your best friend?'_

_Fenris, having been addressed directly, blinked and looked away from Cullen. 'Beg pardon?'_

_Madeline sneered coldly, pleased for the attention. 'Didn't know, I take it? He's all but admitted it to me, they've been fucking for years, probably the whole decade! He’s obsessed with her, calls her all the time, tells her he loves her! It's disgusting!'_

_Cullen's fists tightened, ashamed of what she was saying but more so that he hadn't been convincing enough to give her the reassurance necessary to end her suspicions. He'd never managed to reassure her enough, no matter how he tried._

_'Madeline,' Fenris said, sipping his tea. 'I think you're operating on a miscalculation.'_

_'Oh?'_

_'Yes. You think that because you've managed to get control of Cullen, that this will protect you from us. That you can use Cullen against us. I grant you,' he said, placing the cup down and facing her full on, gaze flat and_ dangerous _to those who knew him. 'You've done well. You've worked hard to isolate him, to make yourself irreplaceable and to fuck him up as much as humanly possible. It's worked until now. But no more.'_

_'Do you think I'm afraid of you, short stack?'_

_'I think that if you ever hurt him again, I'll crack your neck in half.'_

_This couldn't be happening, none of it._

_'Cullen,' Madeline said, a quiet warning and she sounded_ uncertain _almost._

_She waited, they all waited and Cullen's fists were so tight his bones were groaning in protest, palms probably bleeding._

_'_ Cullen _!'_

_He flinched hard. 'M-maybe you should leave.'_

_His fear was so intense, it made him lightheaded, but Fenris was there with Lee and combined, they gave him strength, they made him warm, made him remember that once, he'd been more than this. With them both, maybe he could be again._

_'What did you say?'_

_He moved closer to Fenris, not daring to look at her._

_'You should leave.'_

_Every syllable dripped with incredulity and raw, suppressed fury. 'How dare you talk to me like that?'_

_Cullen kept moving slowly and once he was close enough, Lee took him by the hand, pulled him half into her, Fenris moving in front of him. He felt suspended from reality, caught in a vivid dream that was about to shift into a nightmare and he still could not make himself look at her, was terrified to see the anger he’d stirred within._

_'Please,' he managed, Leliana's hand tightening around his, Fenris fully in front of him now. 'Please, leave me alone.'_

_*_

_Later, when she'd packed her things, when the door had shut behind her, Fenris demanding she leave her keys, Cullen started shaking. It came for him like a fever, except it was ice in his blood, it set his teeth chattering. He almost wanted to laugh until Fenris sat him firmly down, told him to breathe slow._

_Leliana sat beside him, stroking his back, his hair, pressing kisses to his shoulder. 'She's gone. She’s gone now.'_

_It sounded almost as if she was crying herself which Cullen wished he didn't understand. How many times had he reversed their situations in his mind? Imagined himself rendered helpless if she was with someone like Madeline, although it was a ridiculous scenario because Lee was both too strong and too smart to ever let herself become so wholly, pathetically_ broken _._

_Fenris wrapped himself around Cullen from the other side and sandwiched between them both, Cullen began to cry._

_*_

_With Madeline gone, and once the shock began to wear off, Cullen looked around and realised the extent to which he'd been letting his life fall apart. He hadn't been taking care of himself, not paying attention to the smaller details. Working and providing for Madeline had been full time and without her, with his best friends by his side once more, some of his strength returned enough that he was able to rebuild himself._

_The day after Madeline left, the pair having spent the night with him, Leliana went over his contract with the record label, lips pursed and expression halfway to,_ I'm Not Angry Just Disappointed _but she curbed it into something more productive._

_'The royalty ratio for the album overall is grossly disproportionate,' she informed him as if it was obvious. 'Why the fuck didn't you let me look over this before you signed? You'll make barely any money even if it's an instant hit, you moron.'_

_She said_ moron _with plenty of affection, as was her way but Cullen let himself feel every inch of her disapproval._

_Lee sat cross legged on the bathroom floor, back against the bath. Cullen was in the tub, hot water as high as it could go without spilling over and Fenris was sat behind him on the upper ledge, bare feet and legs in the water on either side while, quite unnecessarily, he washed Cullen's hair._

_'You’ve let it grow past your ears,' he’d pointed out kindly when Cullen looked in the mirror long enough to actually_ see _himself. Fenris, who had always been good with hair, then offered to cut it after it was clean._

_Cullen didn't think twice about allowing him to wash his hair. There was nothing unusual or weird about it. He himself had helped Fenris shower in the weeks after they got him back, he'd helped Lee take a bath the night after he took her to the clinic. It was the kind of normality his life had been sorely lacking, even if he knew how it would seem to an outsider, to Madeline. Christ, just the thought of what she'd say if she saw him like this, it made him shudder._

_Fenris washed his hair twice, lathered his back up and pressed his thumbs into knots that Cullen didn't even know were there and he talked the whole time. Back and forth with Lee about all manner of things. Cullen noticed that sometimes, he veered into a very slight accent. Something almost Italian, but not quite. A dialect that Cullen had not heard before. His voice remained as soothing as it had always been, though._

_Cullen didn't say anything, just sat there, surrounded by his friends, letting them clean him, soothe him and make right what had fallen into disrepair in his life. He felt like a kitten being washed by a sibling. Everything about him was weak and delicate and so_ raw, _but they were there, the better parts of himself._

_For the first time in a long time, he let himself hope that things would get better._

_*_

_He spent the summer with Lee and Fenris. They ended up living with him in the flat for the entirety of that time, opting not to stay with Josephine Montilyet, or_ Josie _, as she charmingly introduced herself._

_Cullen wanted to be more than the shadow he knew he'd become, wanted to smile brightly and have it match hers so he didn't embarrass Leliana when she introduced them, but a half smile and an awkward handshake was all he had to give._

_Josie was the kind of person who made him feel wonderful just for being in her presence. He saw immediately why Leliana liked her so much. Josie was sweet and exciting, she had this energy and she paid attention to people. When she spoke to Cullen, it was like he was the centre of the world. She listened to whatever small details he gave her, even as his attention kept bouncing back to Lee and Fenris every few seconds, his touchstones to safety, but after a while he relaxed around her. He liked her and he loved hearing about their life at Uni._

_When they hung out, all four of them, Leliana shone brighter than she ever had before. Her laugh became a high, beautiful thing, her mind keen and sharp as she and Josie bantered back and forth about whoever the fuck Foucault was._

_Cullen let their noise fill his head, let their busy brilliance drag him to the surface and all the while, Fenris was beside him._

_They didn't really talk about it much, but Cullen knew the only reason he'd been able to tell Madeline to leave was because of Fenris. It was no slight against Lee, not at all but having their triangle complete once more had given him the strength needed, even if it still killed him._

_They didn't talk about how they slept in one bed most nights, Cullen between them as Fenris had once been. He was the one who'd been_ taken _now, the one who'd been broken and hurt and they took care of him much the same way. Never asking what he needed, just giving it to him instead because they already knew._

 _They didn't talk about it because they didn't_ need _to and Cullen was world wary enough to know how such a thing would be seen by outsiders, even Josie. That made him want to laugh, mostly because he couldn't imagine ever having sex again. The thought of it turned his stomach. Cullen slept between them, safe and contained once more, the missing pieces of his life returned._

 _His friends stayed with him, they took care of him. Fenris cut his hair and Leliana organised a meeting with his agent, Aiden, who seemed less than pleased to have all manner of sharp, incisive questions thrown at him. It made Cullen ashamed, how easily they stepped in and righted his life, how_ simple _they made it seem but before their return, it had been all he could do to stay alive._

_They were there when he got back from work, they went to all his performances. Fenris helped him write songs, helped take the words from his black book and transform them into something truly amazing. Cullen loved that, could have spent the rest of life sat opposite Fenris, guitar in his lap, the two of them crafting something together. Lee advised him against entering into another contract with the recording label after this album was complete, warned him that there was barely any money to be made from such a place._

_She helped him sort the debt that Madeline had accrued without Cullen knowing. Credit cards he knew nothing about, overdrafts and even loans, all in his name. He didn’t know what to do when letters started coming with headers in bold red font. Lee took over, she called the companies once he'd authorised her to do so. She made a payment plan._

_They put him back together and they made it look easy._

_Rosalie drifted into his life for a week toward the end of summer, but he hadn't seen Bran since he'd told Madeline to go. His younger brother was busy, he lived a bustling life full of responsibilities, parental and otherwise. Cullen was all too aware of how he had a tendency to suck good people into the vacuum of his failure. He kept his distance, wanting to protect and preserve his brother's life. With Rosalie, there was no choice._

_'Lee told me,' she said softly, her waist length hair wrapped up in Fenris's braids, her skin tanned from parts of the world Cullen had never seen. 'I'm so sorry, Cullen. I didn't know.'_

_When they held one another, Cullen managed to keep himself together. He wasn't_ proud _of it, but it was a good sign he was getting better. He didn't_ want _to weigh her down in England, didn't want to be the anchor that kept her from wandering as her spirit dictated. Bad enough that once again he'd ground Leliana and Fenris's lives to a halt_

_'Don't be silly.’ He pressed a kiss to the back of her hands, smiling to see a new tattoo there. 'That's beautiful,' he whispered of the tiny, complex star, complete with delicate shading and fine outlines._

_'My newest,' she said, subtly wiping her eyes._

_'Where did you get it?'_

_'South of France,' she explained in a shaky laugh. 'No office jobs for me, I guess, hand tattoo and all.'_

_'Good,' Cullen said, a little too fervently perhaps, but he didn't care. 'Could never imagine you tied to a job like that, my little wanderer.'_

_'Little? I'm taller than Lee and Fenris!'_

_Fenris, who was sat at Cullen's small kitchen table with tea and a book, commented, 'Everyone's taller than me.'_

_Rosalie tried for a laugh, but it didn't quite form. She crumpled up, crying properly this time and Cullen drew her into his arms, his baby sister who'd cried too many times in her young life for too many reasons._

_'I'm sorry,' she whispered, clinging to him. 'I wish you'd told me, but I know why you didn't. I'm_ so _sorry, Cullen.'_

_He didn't cry but it was a near thing._

_*_

_Leliana's third and final year of University loomed and change would come due. Change to their routine within the bubble of safety they'd constructed for him. Over the summer, things had stabilised, they'd gotten better, so of course the real world had to come calling and threaten it all._

_Cullen couldn't bear the way that Fenris and Lee would sometimes talk_ through _him, like he was the conduit for their more difficult emotions. Their relationship, despite quite literally being in the thick of it, was a strange thing for Cullen to comprehend. Mostly because he didn't understand why they weren't already married, why they weren't bound forever. Their love was a deep and permanent thing. Fenris had loved her since they were small children and what had begun between them as teenagers was not sparked by hormones or hot-blooded desires. They loved each other in a way that transcended normality or rules or limitations, which was why it was so painful for Cullen to witness it slowly begin to fray around the edges as summer burned it's brightest in the days before Autumn's reign._

_'You can be honest,' Leliana told Fenris quietly one night, Cullen half asleep on the sofa between them. 'Two years is a long time and I know you like him.'_

_'I am being honest.'_

_'Not entirely.'_

_'I would never betray you.'_

_'It's not betrayal to want someone, Fenris.'_

_'I know that.'_

_'So, you_ don't _want him, then? I hear how you talk to him on the phone. How he makes you laugh.'_

_'Lee, come on.'_

_'I'm not jealous.'_

_'I know.'_

_'I want only for you to be honest with yourself. You're bisexual, like Cullen, but you've never been with a man.'_

_'This isn't necessary.'_

_'You talk about him in your sleep.'_

_Cullen swallowed slightly. The intensity of their conversation was nothing new, nor his proximity to that intimacy. It was more a thin, insistent tug of dread that things weren't going as well as he wanted for them. The deeply buried fear that without him, they would be closer, happier. That their lives would be easier._

_Leliana had her arm around him while he rested on Fenris's shoulder. He felt it keenly, then. The space between them and how it was made up of_ him _._

_'We trained together,' Fenris said softly, his voice rumbling in a way that Cullen could feel. 'He saved my life, I saved his.’_

_'You like him.'_

_'Of course I do, he's an insufferable arse, but—'_

_'But you want to sleep with him.'_

_'_ But _, I want you. I want to be here with you and Cullen. I did what I needed to. Made myself stronger, pushed myself.'_

_'Yes, you love me and you love Cullen, but that doesn't mean there aren't other things you want.'_

_'Are you saying_ you _want those things?'_

_Cullen listened to the silence, strained and growing between them, his heart heavy with sadness born of foreshadowing._

_*_

_The summer passed all too quickly. Cullen had spent the majority of it in silence, simply_ being _with his friends, so grateful to exist, to feel safe, to be loved without qualification. There was a well of horror within him still, things inflicted upon him he could not quite quantify or analyse, so he'd held his tongue. Stayed quiet. Let them love him back to health and strength._

_He'd started running with Fenris again, worked out in the local park, doing pull-ups on low hanging branches, Fenris teaching him how to do them one handed, both laughing when he couldn't._

_Lee went back to University with Josie. Cullen drove them, Fenris coming along too. Their goodbye was a little awkward, something not quite_ right _between them and Cullen felt like a child who'd caused his parents to divorce, felt so fucking_ responsible _for their problems. It never left him, the cold, unequivocal knowledge that when separated from_ him, _they'd both thrived._

_Lee hugged him for a long time at the train station, almost like she was putting off her goodbye to Fenris._

_'I know she's been texting you,' she told him quietly, hands on his shoulders. 'But don't listen, you understand? She's a player. Change your number. Keep her out.'_

_He nodded. 'I will.'_

_When it came to Fenris, they hugged instead of kissing. Cullen felt that failure like a knife to the heart. How happy would his friends be_ without _the burden of keeping him alive?._

_The way back was mostly quiet. 'We broke up,' Fenris told Cullen eventually. 'Just for the—for her last year, you know?'_

_Cullen swallowed over a thick lump, eyes on the road. 'Right.'_

_'She wants me to_ explore _,' he scoffed gently. 'Find myself or whatever the fuck that means.'_

_'Do you want to?'_

_Fenris didn't answer._

_*_

_It was raining the second time Cullen ever saw Fenris cry._

_'It's just for a couple of weeks,' Cullen repeated. 'I've got work non-stop and I'm performing loads; I'd barely see you even if you_ were _here. You should go!'_

_'Hm,' Fenris said, helping Cullen cook in his kitchen. 'Maybe.'_

_'Come on, it'll be fun. You made friends with them, you should go and do_ _… y'know,' Cullen paused, nudging him. 'Super-secret army shit, but for fun.'_

_'It's_ camping _.'_

_'Camping is fun, ask Rosie and Bran.'_

_It was all a farce, working to_ convince _Fenris to go. Cullen knew he wanted it. The only thing holding him back was, of course, Cullen._

_'Maybe.'_

_Cullen sighed, sprinkling salt, pepper and paprika over the chicken before giving the pan a good shake to turn the pieces. He wasn't going to give up, no fucking way. Bad enough his friends had spent the entire summer seeing to his needs, hardly having any time for themselves. Fenris deserved to have some fun._

_'Can we talk about sex?' Fenris asked, out of the blue. Cullen nearly dropped the pan. Fenris caught his wrist, steadied his actions and went on, 'Perhaps I should have phrased that better.'_

_Cheeks burning hotter than the pan, Cullen tried to laugh it off. 'Maybe just when I'm searing meat over a stove, eh?'_

_Fenris nodded in mild apology, his vegetables cut up precisely in a little pile and Cullen wanted to fucking_ run.

_'This is going to sound weird,' Fenris told him while Cullen listened carefully, heart threatening to break apart at the first hint of disgust or disapproval for what Cullen had done with Madeline. 'But I wanted to ask if you'd be open to a set up?'_

_'A—a what?'_

_'A set up. Like, a date. I would set you up on a date, that's what I'm aiming for.'_

_Fenris never misplaced his words, never stumbled like that. He was nervous. Cullen gave all his attention to the food._

_'I'm good, thanks.'_

_'I don't mean go on a date to start a relationship. I've got this friend, Isabela, she's extremely cool.'_

_'Never heard you mention her.'_

_'Well, she might be_ Anders' _friend. But I've met her a couple of times during training.' Fenris chuffed a sigh and Cullen hoped they were getting to the fucking point because this whole conversation had him on edge. 'You've never had normal sex.'_

_Cullen stopped what he was doing. 'I've had normal sex.'_

_Fenris dug in. 'You haven't.'_

_'Oh, fuck_ off _, will you? I don't need this. And what the hell is normal sex, anyway? Is there a manual?'_

_'I don't know, but I would think that not feeling awful throughout the whole thing was a big part of it.'_

_'I've_ had _normal sex.'_

_'You hated it with Kim Surana.'_

_'My lip hurt, that was all.'_

_'The thing with Samson left you unconscious, you told me.'_

_'Jesus Christ, I promise you, Fen, I couldn't care any less about sex, OK? You don't need to set me up, you don't need to-to_ cure _me, or whatever. Its fine.' He moved on to the sauce, stirring it with a wooden spoon that shook, betraying him. 'Anyway,' he added, grasping for normality. 'Me and Madeline had normal sex plenty of times, especially early on. Promise.'_

_Fenris rubbed his face, exhaling roughly. 'Full offence to that bitch, but if she ever did something nice for you, there was a motive behind it.'_

_Cullen really hated that he still felt the deeply ingrained urge to defend her. Just stirred his sauce instead, focused on the food, repetitive motions._

_'I don't want to have sex.'_

_'With anyone?'_

_He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. 'God, forget it.'_

_'No, come on.'_

_'What do you want from me? Seriously?'_

_'You realise this is the most you've talked since she left?'_

_'That doesn't mean anything.'_

_'Holding this in isn't healthy.'_

_Cullen stirred the chicken aggressively. 'Like you'd know.'_

_'Yeah,' Fenris agreed calmly. 'That's a fair point.'_

_Eyes falling shut, guilt stinging in the back of his throat, he said, 'Oh, fuck it. I want_ _… I_ want _to have something like what you and Lee have. To have that connection and trust. Then maybe, y'know. I don't just want sex for the sake of it. It's so much effort for_ _…' he swallowed again, breath shuddering. 'So little.'_

_'So little?'_

_'Just_ _…' he looked around blindly. 'What's the point?'_

_'Cullen—'_

_'Don't. Please, I know you're trying to help, I just_ _… please don't. If I want to be set up, I'll ask.' He snorted, silently scathing at himself. 'Not like anyone would_ want _to be set up with me.'_

_'No, yeah,' Fenris said, hint of irritation in his tone. 'You're definitely a hard sell. Best looking guy on the planet, kind, talented and you sing. Have to pay someone, probably.'_

_'Exterior shit doesn't last,' Cullen replied, purposefully hollow, something that might have been_ anger _filtering into his bloodstream. He just wanted this conversation to end. 'It's never enough.'_

 _'You're fucking_ plenty.'

_He tipped the chicken into a bowl, sauce almost finished on the hob. ‘Too much where it's not wanted, not enough where it counts.'_

_'Don't you dare talk about yourself like that.'_

_'Why not? It's true and we both know it.'_

_Fenris faced him fully, but Cullen couldn't meet his gaze. ‘That’s what_ she _told you, doesn't make it remotely accurate!'_

_'It's why you and Lee do so much better without me.'_

_'You think that, do you?'_

_'I know it.' He stirred the sauce too hard, making a mess and then he poured it over the chicken, hands trembling enough that the entire pan shook. When he placed it back down, it clanged loudly, making him flinch, making him_ hate _himself. 'Look at Lee, she's never been so happy, so fulfilled and you—you're exactly the same! You two are_ perfect _for each other, you're strong apart and you're stronger together! Without me, you both flourished! Bran is living the kind of life I couldn't even dream of, Rosalie is the happiest, most well rounded person I've ever known and she's completely independent!' He moved away from the stove, wishing he was better than this, wishing he could just shut the fuck up. 'People are better_ without _me. I should have died in the crash,' he uttered, tears burning the corners of his eyes, torso suddenly tight and heavy. 'Mia would have taken care of everyone so much better than me. She was always so strong. She took care of us and she made it all look easy.'_

_Back to Fenris, he covered his eyes with one hand, words coming out whether he liked it or not._

_'I miss Mum and Dad every day. Bran, he's a Father himself and I—I just feel like I'm still fifteen, like I want them to come back and tell me it’s OK, I did a good job but they're here now. Every day is so difficult, I don't understand how people do it. How they get up and live their lives without wanting to scream. Everything is so hard. It would be easier if I wasn't here. Everyone's life would be better. Everyone's.'_

_The silence from behind him went on so long that he almost wondered if Fenris had left, but he knew his friend would not. He could trust that he was there, even if he didn't want anything to do with him anymore. The silence had to be filled, Cullen's words bubbling inside, his body too weak to contain them, soul too weary to generate strength._

_'She made me do such terrible things,' he uttered in a bare, broken whisper, tears spilling thickly when he closed his eyes. 'I know you and Lee, you have normal, amazing sex and that's—I'm so happy for you both, but you're right, I've never had sex and enjoyed it, not really. Madeline wanted me to take control, to hurt her, force her, pretend to-to do awful things and I—'_

Oh God stop, stop, stop.

 _'I didn't want to do those things and even when I did, I couldn't make her happy. She went to other men. She told me about it and I know what you're going to say, but I deserved it. I fucking deserved it. She's the only person who_ needed _me and I let her down. I made her angry, I fucked it all up and I_ _…' his breath left him in a great, trembling whoosh. 'I won't ever find anyone like that again. Someone who needs me, who misses me, who_ wants _me.'_

 _Cullen reached for the countertop with one hand, wiping his eyes with the other. 'I know you love me, you and Lee. You take such good care of me, but you don't need me. Your life is better when I'm not around.' His eyes screwed tight, crux of that deepest, darkest emotion strangling him. '_ Everyone _'s life is better without me, except for Madeline.'_

_Outside, the rain poured on. Skies grey and overcast. The sounds would have been reassuring, had he not been dying inside. Slowly, he turned to look at his friend._

_Fenris had his hands over his mouth, pressed lightly together, prayer like, but none of them had ever believed in God, had never dared to hope for ridiculous things like that. Cullen backed up until he was leaning against the side._

_And Fenris_ _… was crying. Cullen had only ever seen him cry once before. It wasn't the way Cullen cried, not the way Lee cried._

_He was rigid and pale, his usually tan, bronze skin at least two shades lacking in colour. It manifested like horror, like fear almost and were it not for the glassy tears in green eyes, tracks down his cheeks, Cullen might not even have jumped to such a conclusion._

_Fenris, who'd been abused, starved and neglected as a child, who'd been fucking_ taken _and held captive for two years, had survived torment beyond what Cullen could allow himself to think of most days_ _… was crying for him._

 _He couldn't speak, didn't know what to even fucking_ say. _Fenris just stared, swallowing hard and thick before he lowered his hand away from his mouth, lips in a thin line as he shook his head slowly._

 _A million things ran through Cullen's mind then, in the silence between them, the distance created by his stupid, unbearable truth. He imagined what Fenris would say next, how bad it would be, how_ kind _it might be, knowing his friend as he did. He regretted it so much it was a taste in his mouth, bitter and sour and full of self-loathing._

_Eventually, Fenris took a deep, shaky breath and turned the oven off at the wall. Cullen hadn't even realised it was still on._

_Fenris shook his head again, looking down. 'I'd be dead without you. Lee's Mum, she might have killed her in time for how hard she used to beat her. Rosalie is happy and well-adjusted because of you. Bran has that job because you refused to let him drop out of school. He's a good Dad because that's how you raised him, how_ we _raised him. I don't know how you can stand there and say what you just said_ _… and_ mean _it.' He scrubbed his face, seemingly numb with shock. 'Without you, I can't even imagine what my life would be. I think about the day we met all the time. About how you shared your lunch with me. I was so_ hungry _that day, it used to make me dizzy and you just_ _… you came out of nowhere with your kindness. I think about what would have happened had I_ not _met you that day and I know, I_ know _that I'd be dead. One way or another.' Fenris stared unseeingly across the kitchen. 'It makes me so angry to hear you say these things, but it's not your fault. It's just how you feel. I am so sorry that you think this, but please_ _…' he closed his eyes. 'Please believe me when I tell you it's not true.'_

_'You don't have to—'_

_'You're the sun.'_

_'_ _…what?'_

_'You're the sun. I'm sorry, I don't know how else to say it. You're the fucking_ sun _of this family, Cullen and we all take that for granted, I know. We're all moving around and you_ _… you don't. You stay where you are because,' he chuckled sadly, a small sob at the end and the sound of it did terrible things to Cullen's heart. 'You're the sun. You're home. You light the way for everything I do. You're where I turn when things are hard. You're what I think of when I need to be strong and you are the only reason I can even_ go _and do these things. You burn so bright for everyone but yourself and it's easy to forget that. It guts me that you don't realise it.'_

_Both men fell silent then, neither quite looking at the other. It was the most awkward things had ever been between them. Cullen had no clue what to say, what to do. Rotten, determined disbelief and the overwhelming evidence to the contrary made it hard to take any true comfort from his best friend's words._

_'I hate what she did to you,' Fenris whispered, closing his eyes once more, shoulders hunched tightly. 'I hate that you still can't see the breadth of it.'_

_'She's gone,' Cullen offered weakly, but that wasn’t the whole truth either and they both knew it, so the strange static distance remained. If Leliana knew that Madeline still texted him then so would Fenris and no matter that Cullen had not yet responded, she was still_ out there _._

_'I just want you to be happy.'_

_Cullen looked around the small kitchen, pleasant smells of their cooking all around, rain pelting the tiny window thickly, all of London wet and metallic._

_'I am. Here with you, I am. That's enough for me.'_

_Fenris ground his jaw as he turned away. He never turned away from Cullen._

_'It shouldn't be.'_

_*_

_The whole thing with Madeline was like a broken arm that had not set right, but the skin healed around it anyway. Muscle knit together and the arm was functional, just about, but it_ hurt. _It hurt like it shouldn't, remained broken at the very core. Fracture in every moment, in every second of Cullen's life._

_Time passed. He’d turned twenty two with very little fanfare, didn’t want to celebrate it, not really. He worked and he worked, jobs for money and sometimes, honing his craft. The places he was performing at, they sometimes went to pay him at the end and he would refuse, baffled. He wasn't a performer, it was open mic nights, it was an opportunity to play and be heard. They told him he packed the place, had people cheering and drinking like crazy, but he refused all the same, polite and friendly. It didn't feel right for some reason._

_'You fucking_ idiot _,' Aiden scolded him over coffee one day. 'If somewhere offers to pay you, fucking_ take it _and remember my cut!'_

_'It's not—'_

_'Money is money, Cullen,' Aiden insisted, dark eyes glittering. 'Now, we're making good progress with the album. Do you have any ideas for names?'_

_Cullen looked off to the side, the densely packed cafe was both soothing and nerve wracking because Madeline liked coffee and he'd been here with her before._

_'Free Run,' he said. 'I'd—if that's OK.'_

_Aiden nodded, smirking. 'It's_ your _album, you know.'_

_It didn't feel like it. He'd been involved in so little of the creative process, was removed from it in many respects. Like he was working for someone else, ghost-singing, if such a thing existed._

_'Any reason for the name?' his agent asked, firing off a text._

_'Uh,' Cullen looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. 'Not really.'_

_'Fine. I want you to start doing publicity, understand? Proper publicity. Making a name for yourself. You're not on Facebook, are you?'_

_'No.'_

_'Well, you need to be.'_

_'I hate it.'_

_Aiden looked him over, a deeply derisive kind of up and down. 'No one_ likes _Facebook. Just do it. We can start putting videos of your performances there.'_

_'I don't have—'_

_'Well,_ start _, OK? You should have someone there recording everything, obviously.'_

_'What about YouTube?'_

_Aiden nodded, frowning at his phone. 'Yeah, good idea.'_

_'I don't mind that so much.'_

_'Good, good. OK, so we'll meet next week. They'll want to do a photoshoot.'_

_'What?'_

_'God, you're lucky you're hot because boy, are you_ dumb _. We need at least twelve pictures of you to use for publicity including options for the album cover.'_

_'Why does it have to be_ _… me? Other singers use art or—'_

_'Because your face is a selling point,' Aiden said, rising to stand and dropping a twenty pound note on the table. 'Start taking care of yourself, how you dress, do you hair better, yeah? Girls will want to buy your album if they think you're broken but fuckable.'_

_Cullen ground his jaw. 'I'm bisexual.'_

_Aiden sighed. 'Properly?'_

_'What other kind is there?'_

_'You seeing a guy?'_

_'No, not seeing anyone.'_

_'OK. Well, it's not a problem then. Keep it under your hat, OK?'_

_'Why?'_

_'So you can sell to soppy, middle class teens who will fantasise about your car breaking down outside their house in a thunderstorm, OK? It's called marketing. You're the product. Let's keep you shiny, yeah?'_

_Aiden didn't look back, didn't say anything else, simply walked away leaving Cullen to stew in his own silence._

_*_

'Explain to me what's wrong.'

_'I can't.'_

'He keeps saying the same thing.'

_'Well, there you go.'_

'Cullen.'

_The blond sighed irritably, phone between his cheek and shoulder as he dressed for work. 'I don't know what to tell you.'_

'Why have you both come down with a sudden case of Non-Communicative Male? You two talk about everything.'

_Cullen tightened his belt. 'There's nothing to talk about.'_

'I swear, if this year were any less trying, I'd move back just so I could slap you both around the head.'

_'We're not arguing and don't you dare.'_

'If you were arguing, it would be sorted by now.'

_'How's Josie?'_

'She's good,' _Lee said, allowing him the mercy of a subject change. The background on her end of the phone was quiet for once._ 'We slept together. It was just for fun.'

_Hands slowed on the laces of his steel toed boots. 'Oh, right.'_

‘Fenris and I are broken up,' _she reminded him gently._ 'Just for this last year. He slept with Anders, I bet, on his camping trip.'

_Somewhat moodily, Cullen sighed. 'I wouldn't know.'_

'Oh, come on, this is what I mean! You two always talk about everything! I remember hearing him giving you detailed instructions on how to masturbate!'

 _'Lee! That did_ not _happen!'_

'It did happen, I recall him listing each part off with alphabetical bullet points. You've never had secrets from him.'

_He looked at himself in the mirror. 'Just one.'_

_Tone sobering, she said, '_ That's not a secret. Any time he asks about it, we'll tell him.'

_'Maybe we should just tell him anyway. He has nightmares sometimes. Falls out of bed, screams a bit. Maybe we could just tell him the basics.'_

'No, definitely not. It could wreck everything he’s built himself into. Unless he _asks us_ , we shouldn’t tell him any of it.'

_Nodding as if she could see him, he said no more about it. He trusted her advice more than anyone's. 'Are you joining me in the bisexual category box, then?'_

'I don't think so. It was very fun, but I felt no real pull beyond simply messing around.'

_'You don't want to do it again?'_

'Not especially. I prefer Josie as a friend.'

_'Fair enough. Anyone else?'_

'A couple of guys.'

_'Any good?'_

'So-so, all but one. Exploring is fun. I like it.'

_'You still love him, though?'_

‘I could never not love him, or you.'

_On the way through the kitchen, he took a swig of his cold tea. It was nearly 5am, pitch black outside but work on the site began early and the pay was hard to beat. 'Love you too, Lee.'_

'Maybe you could say it to Fenris.'

_'That I love you?'_

'Ha-ha.'

_'I've gotta go. Stop pestering me, please? We'll sort it soon. You coming for dinner this week?'_

'Can't. Up to my eyes in assignments and research, hence the early call. I haven't even slept yet.'

_'Christ, Lee. Take care of yourself, will you? Please?'_

_Down the phone, she yawned and Cullen’s stepped out into the cold October morning air, everything damp from the midnight frosts that had rapidly melted as the temperature slowly climbed._

'I will, though I'd do pretty much anything for one of your roast dinners, truth be told. If I see another pot noodle, I'm going to commit mass genocide.'

_*_

_'Watch the gravy!'_

_'I am, the plates are hot!'_

_'Well,' Cullen reasoned, the train whisking them to Lee’s University as Fenris sat in front of him. 'You're tough, right?'_

_His best friend gave a small smile, a little shadow of a thing that was not quite it's true self, didn't connect. 'I guess so.'_

_'She'd better not have eaten already.'_

_'Maybe you should have told her we were bringing enough food to feed her whole dorm before we packed it up and took it on a magical train journey because the car broke down again.'_

_Cullen grinned dryly. 'Maybe you should go fuck yourself.'_

_Fenris simply quirked an eyebrow and Cullen knew then that something_ _… something had_ happened _with his friend, with this Anders._

_'Why are we not_ _… right, again?' he asked before he could stop himself._

_Lips parting in surprise Fenris looked at him, lap filled with foil wrapped plates and Tupperware tubs, smell of home cooked roast filling the mostly empty carriage. 'I don't know.'_

_'Isn't that enough to just make it_ not _not right? I hate this.'_

_'I do too.'_

_'Tell me about it?' Cullen encouraged, unusually gentle, not wanting to burst the tenuous bubble of hope. 'About Anders.'_

_Before, there would have been no hesitation. Lee was right, they'd always told one another everything and this was a_ big _thing, it was, yet Fenris hesitated._

_Cullen hated that he knew why._

_He was fragile, he needed to be protected from hearing about things like_ sex. _Angry at himself, warm food burning his thighs, he sat back and looked away. Fenris began to speak, but only to make lightweight excuses. Cullen cut him off, saved him the trouble._

_'By the way, set me up with your friend, Isabelle.'_

_'Isabela.'_

_'Yeah. Set me up when we get back, if she's up for it.'_

_They looked out of the windows, watching the world go by._

_'You got it.'_

_*_

_Isabela was unlike anyone Cullen had ever known. When he and Fenris met her at the local pub, she had a friend with her, a woman who gave Fenris_ The Eye _even though Cullen could tell he wasn't interested. Fenris didn't seem interested at all in other women. Cullen suspected he knew why._

_'Well, aren't you just a glowy hunk of goodness?' Isabela purred, running her fingertips across Cullen's forearm after three tequilas and a very tactile game of pool. 'Fenris told me almost nothing about you which makes you even sexier.'_

_Nervously, he lifted his gaze to hers. She wore dark eyeliner, glittering eyeshadow. She had a stripe shaved into the side of her head, the other side long and slightly curling at the end. Her gold hoop earrings were the kind that all the girls except for Lee used to wear in Cullen's home borough and, to be fair, across most of Britain. She'd already told him she was a gypsy;_ not _the way that many in Britain identified as. True Romani, dark skinned and fucking gorgeous._

 _Fenris was propping up the bar, outlandishly flirting with a bartender who didn't believe_ Fenris _was his real name. Isabela's friend had left a while ago and Cullen, he wasn't drunk, but he'd had enough drinks to feel a little more relaxed._

_'I'm terrible at flirting,' he said with a small laugh. 'Just so I don't make a complete twat of myself. I mean, if you want me to try, I will, but I suck at it so. I think you're sexy too. I like you.'_

_Her smile widened, excited and yet somehow_ sweet _. 'You want to come back to mine?'_

_Oh, but Cullen had never done this, not properly, not nicely, not the way people were meant to. No cider laced kisses that overwhelmed his nervous system in all the wrong way. No barmaid pity-fucking him because he'd made a monster of himself to protect her._

_Isabela was_ nice _and she seemed to understand him without asking too many questions._

 _Most of all, he was sick to death of being_ not OK.

_He downed the shot on the table for courage, wiping his mouth._

_'Yes. Please.'_

_*_

_What he really,_ really _didn't expect to happen when they got back to Isabella's surprisingly spartan flat - clean and neat, cleverly organised, like an iKEA catalogue - was for her to start playing her guitar._

_'Oh,' he said, smiling genuinely when she sat cross legged on the floor, strumming gently. 'You play.'_

_'I do,' she purred. 'Pretty amazing, right? You should hear me sing.'_

_It was maybe meant as a joke, but Cullen nodded eagerly. 'I'd love to.'_

_She shot him a sceptical look. 'Really? Guys don't usually care.'_

_'I do, I'd love to hear you sing and play.'_

_So she did. She had a lovely voice, rough and velvety, something wild in it. The colour of her songs came through crystal clear - black and cream, crossed with powerful scarlet shades._

_'You play,' she guessed after the third song and when he nodded, she indicated across the room. 'Grab the spare, jam with me.'_

_*_

_'You were supposed to have sex.'_

_Cullen shrugged happily. 'I had so much fun.'_

_Fenris looked exasperated, gesturing vaguely. 'But_ _… you were meant to have sex! Isabela loves sex!'_

_'She loves music too,' Cullen argued. 'She's an amazing singer, incredible range.'_

_'I know. She sometimes plays with a rock band of deeply questionable repute, but Cullen,' he added sternly. 'I can't believe you didn't have sex.'_

_'I like her too much to have sex with her.'_

_He could practically_ hear _his friend roll his eyes._

_*_

_They'd been living together for three months when November rolled around bringing fireworks, hot dogs and steadily increasing phone calls for Fenris. Cullen's friend could no longer conceal all the offers he'd been getting asking him to sign up for_ off-book ops _, for what these people repeatedly called_ specialisations.

_Cullen had known for a while._

_In the days leading up to the conversation, he did everything he could to become_ Cullen Rutherford; Self Sufficient Good Guy. _Much like the camping trip a month ago, he knew this was something Fenris wanted to do but once more, the drawback was Cullen._

_Things were still not right between them. They were friendly enough, there was no outright aggression but_ _… something wasn't as it should be. Something had yet to click back into place._

_Madeline no longer texted Cullen, but he'd seen her around the last few days. Seen her cross the street in front of him, queueing for coffee in the place he sometimes met up with Aiden._

_It felt_ _… weirdly inevitable._

_The feelings didn't make sense. Cullen couldn't quite reconcile his own internal diatribe, the way his heart was leaning._

_He_ missed _her._

_'It would be three months,' Fenris said quietly, looking down at his hands, clasped tightly around his mug, the one Cullen had packed up from their old house and brought along with him._

_Cullen wanted to say so much then. He wanted to tell his friend that he understood, he actually did. Fenris was not done, the same as Lee wasn't. They needed more. Her final year, likely a post-grad beyond that. Fenris needed more than two years. Cullen wanted to say that it had been an amazing holiday away from reality and he bore his friend no ill will._

_More than anything, he wanted to grab him and tell him how much he loved him - that he was sick of this strange, transparent distance between them and he_ loved _him. Love should be enough._ He _should be enough._

_Neither were and his silence held._

_He nodded slowly, affecting neutrality. It probably came across as moodiness, but he couldn't control it. There was a level of disconnect between what he felt and what he could show. Madeline had taught him that to an extent._

Smile _, she'd told him, putting in earrings and fluffing up her hair as she looked at him in the mirror._ Even if your heart is breaking _._

_It was inevitable and Cullen despised himself for it._

_'I can't do it,' Fenris said, studiously avoiding Cullen's gaze._

_'Course you can and you should. You_ want _to do it.'_

_'Cullen—'_

_'What do you think will happen once you leave?' Cullen asked, sounding amused. 'That I'll run back to her?'_

_Fenris nodded._

_'I won't.'_

_'I should be here.'_

_Cullen pushed his chair back, scraping loudly across the floor. 'Look, we're not kids anymore,' he said, chucking the remainder of his tea down the sink. 'We can't sleep in the same bed anymore. We can't live together. We can't exist as one person, not like we used to.' He turned and plastered his absolute best wry smile across his face, the one that used to make Fenris feel better because if they were bantering then everything was fine. Laughing in the face of rent arrears, laughing when the day was so dark that they both knew that alone, neither could have survived. Laughing and pushing through it, pulling the other behind if they were lagging. It had always been their way until now. 'Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't need you anymore.'_

_Fenris's jaw worked and Cullen sighed._

_'That's not a bad thing, is it? We can be friends based on_ wanting _to be, not_ needing _to be. That's_ _… healthier, right? C'mon. You helped me get out of that with Madeline and I'm so grateful, I am, but my life's back on track now. I really think I can do this, with the music and the album. They're paying me, like actually paying me to perform. Not much, granted,' he chuckled and still, fucking_ still _Fenris wouldn't look at him which was unfair because such a degree of lying at least deserved the proper attention. 'But things are so much better. Things are the best they've ever been.'_

_His friend closed his eyes and swallowed._

_'I don't know what more I can do,' he uttered quietly, stark contrast to Cullen's strong, steady lies. 'I can't_ _… reach you.'_

_The part of Cullen behind glass wanted to cry._

_'Mate, I'm literally right here.' He rinsed the cup under the tap and scrubbed the inside harder than necessary. 'I'm sorry we've been a bit out of sync lately, but I feel a million times better now. I really do.'_

_'Now that I've been offered a training contract?'_

_Irritation prickled at the base of Cullen's spine. Did he have to make this so difficult? Fuck's sake._

_'Right,' he said, lifting his hands to gesture. 'I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to offend you, but_ _…' he sighed again, ignoring the swell of deep, painful protest at what he was about to say. 'I've been sort of hoping you'd get another offer or whatever. This place is a bit cramped with the two of us. I've got stuff going on and you haven't. You're not working, not earning anything and to be frank, you're j-just dead weight right now.'_

_'Is that so?'_

_'Yeah it is, actually.' Cullen slung his coat on and even though Fenris wasn't looking, he made sure to angle his face away so his friend couldn't see the stupid, traitorous tears in his eyes. He was_ sick _of crying, sick of sadness and comfort. Of weighing people down with his inability to thrive alone. Of waiting for the people he loved most to_ leave _. 'So call Anders back, go do your training thing, do as many as you need to and when you get back we'll go have a drink,' he added, opening the front door. 'Like_ normal _friends.'_

_*_

_Their parting was quiet and cold. Fenris had never seemed more unreachable than he had while standing in Cullen's hallway, bag over his shoulder. They'd barely looked at one another._

_'Three months,' he'd told the floor._

_Cullen knew it was a lie, but he smiled and nodded. 'We'll have a party when you get back, proper blowout with everyone.'_

_Behind the glass, he was screaming._

_Fenris looked away, wiping his eyes and he left without a word._

_As a reward for getting Fenris away from him, Cullen let himself cry that first night. He indulged the torrent of anguish within, let it take over._

_It was for the best, there was no question. They were better off without him. How could anyone contest that? Maybe once they'd been a functional triangle. Maybe before, Cullen had something to offer them both, but now they were so far ahead of him he could barely see them. They outshone him in every way and he was happy for them, for their brilliance coming through but it meant cutting strings. Letting them fly free and that was only fair wasn't it?_

_Cullen had read something once, something about letting go of the things you loved._

_*_

_He dodged calls from Lee, preferring to text. Always cheerful, always sounding busy. Talked of how he'd definitely call her back, sorry he missed her, performing constantly, album going great, date with Isabela, out with friends from work._

_For the first time since he'd known her, Lee sounded uncertain. She messaged him back and there was none of her unflinching omniscience when she scolded him for avoiding her. She didn't demand he answer, didn't threaten to visit. She called less and less, texted him once a week and though it cut him up, he knew he was doing the right thing._

_Fenris hadn't contacted him once since he left three weeks ago and that too was for the best._

_They had to move on, couldn't be weighed down by him any longer._

_His life was quiet. He worked during the mornings, bulk of his work on the sites finished by 1pm and then he went home to play and sing, to write little bits here and there. He tried to ignore how much he wanted to write about his friends but that wasn't fair, so he kept it vague. Wrote about himself mostly, wrote a whole song about how useless and stupid he was, as if they were abstract concepts that no longer applied. He wrote about how Madeline had taken his heart in her hands and held it high above him, kept it under lock and key._

_It was the week before Christmas when she texted him and he replied._

_*_

_'You look beautiful,' she told him when they met up for a drink in New Cross. She'd opened her arms to him so he kissed her cheek. She smelled the same, gorgeous perfume and skin cream, her hair was just as soft. When they hugged, she held him close and whispered, 'I'm so sorry for how it ended between us.'_

_His throat was thick when they parted and his own feelings were alien to him then, contradictions in the extreme._

_'Me too,' he said, slipping into the seat beside her. He ordered the drink he knew she liked, white wine spritzer and whereas he would normally have just had a coke, a beer if he was especially stressed, he ordered a vodka and tonic for himself. 'How've you been?'_

_She looked exactly the same, as if no time had passed at all._

_'I've been OK,' she told him softly as she reached for his hand. 'I'm so glad you answered me, love. There's things I wanted to say, to tell you.' The drinks arrived and he took a big glug, needing that liquid strength just then. She left hers untouched, pretty dark eyes locked onto him like that was all she cared about. 'When you threw me out, I know I deserved it. No, don't deny it. Things between us had become so toxic and I'm ashamed of my behaviour, Cullen. I really am. I did things that were so unlike me. I've never been in a relationship that pushed me to do those things and they were completely wrong. I went to a doctor and he diagnosed me with BPD. I did a course of cognitive therapy and that really helped. It was amazing, learning about the human spectrum of emotions, about coping mechanisms.' Her expression morphed into one of delicate sadness. 'I don't think I ever processed my Dad's death, not really. It broke me and I let that manifest between us. I'm so glad I had the chance to sort myself out. Thank you for that.'_

_It wasn't what he'd been expecting, what a sick, pathetic part of him had been hoping for. She too was better without him. Even Madeline had sorted herself out, made her life better in his absence._

_Cullen swallowed over the lump in his throat and nodded, squeezing her hand in return. 'I'm really glad.'_

_She smiled and reached for her wine, settling back in the stool. 'That means a lot. I'm seeing this amazing guy, oh, he's just fantastic. You'd love him, Cullen. We should double, that would be fun! So, how've you been?'_

_*_

_There was a quiet, subdued part of him, shrunken with despair and resignation to his actions, that knew full well what she was doing. That she was making him jealous, sending selfies of her and the new guy and all the amazing things they were doing together. He knew it and yet, it worked. He_ was _jealous. He missed her._

 _All the bad, that had melted away. This Madeline was fun, carefree and exuberant. She sent him pictures of herself upside down on a swing, decked out in an over-sized man's flannel shirt and Ugg boots over leggings, her hair all over the place. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold and her eyes sparkled and he fucking_ pined _for her._

_She was doing it on purpose, but he deserved it. Had turned her out in the streets, cast aside the only person to put up with his cowardly bullshit. He replied minimally, didn't trust himself to start writing long sentences lest it turn into a monologue of begging._

_On Christmas Eve, he laid on his single bed, painfully alone. Rosalie in Australia with friends, Bran with his proper family, Lee in Italy with Josephine and Fenris_ _… somewhere on the planet. It was only right Cullen was alone and he knew that but solitude was hard to bear._

_Sometime after midnight, his phone buzzed._

**Happy Christmas, baby,** _Madeline's message read and beneath the text, was a picture taken in a dark room with the flash on full. She was topless, breasts squeezed together and in full view, her naval at the bottom of the frame. She had her eyes closed, red lips pursed in a kiss._

_His heart caught in his throat, trousers tightening uncomfortably and he stared at it for the longest time, eventually becoming so hard he couldn't ignore it. He took himself in hand and started stroking, rough movements that he tried not to focus on too much, looking at her instead._

_Another message followed soon after._ **Miss you,** _it said. No kisses, she never put kisses, thought people who did were stupid._

_With one hand, he managed to clumsily text back, Miss you too._

_Now he wasn't looking at the picture, just those two words._

_Miss you._

_Miss you._

_She missed him. She missed Cullen._

_The thought tipped him right over the edge, body going rigid as he came hard, sound tearing from his throat, heart hammering._

_'Fuck,' he panted, working himself through it. 'Fucking hell.'_

_As if by magic, she called him then. He scrambled to answer, wiping his sticky hand on the knee of his jeans in his hurry to accept the call before he missed her._

_'H-hi,' he blurted out._

_He could almost hear her smiling down the phone._

'Mark is staying with his parents for Christmas,' _she told him, silky and low and so fucking seductive it had his cock pricking with interest, filling with fresh blood straight from his dumb, eager heart. 'Wanna keep me company?'_

_*_

_Bran called on Christmas day to check that Cullen was definitely coming for dinner, worried because he hadn't replied yesterday and when Cullen answered the phone, Madeline was all over him, all around him. Tangled in the rough spun cotton sheets of Mark's double bed in his flat with his things neatly arranged, pictures of his family on the walls that Cullen didn't let himself process._

_'Happy Christmas,' he told his little brother. 'You having a good day?'_

_'_ Yeah, not so bad _,' Bran said, a little bemused. 'You sound cheerful.'_

_Madeline was sucking a playful bruise into his neck, arms and legs wrapped around him from behind and Cullen broke into a wide smile, laughing as she tickled him._

_'Ah, yeah I'm-I'm good. Having a good day.'_

'Really? Without Fen and Lee?'

_Behind him, Madeline huffed with playful indignation but it was teasing. She'd told him last night that she didn't care about Leliana anymore. After he'd explained how he'd begun to phase them both out of his life, she confessed that she was always jealous of how close he was with her and that she was just insecure, had thought herself not enough._

_Cullen rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, amazingly.'_

_Bran sounded surprised._ 'Oh, right. Well, great. You've been so down lately I was worried about you, can't lie. So, what time are you coming?'

_Madeline, who could hear Bran, close as she was to the phone, reached around and began rubbing her hand up and down his slightly raw length, bringing him down into the depths of need driven arousal once more. Cullen's eyes fluttered, throat bobbing._

_'Uh, sorry what?'_

'What time are you coming?'

_Madeline bit his earlobe. 'Ask him,' she whispered._

_'Right, yeah, I just wanted to ask if it was um, if it was OK to bring Madeline with me?'_

_A few beats of silence from the other end made Cullen nervous, despite what Madeline was doing to him then, how his breathing was turning shallow and urgent as she slowly manoeuvred around into his lap, pressing delicate butterfly kisses to his forehead, the bridge of his nose and his eyes. She parted her legs and guided him inside her._

'Madeline?' _Bran echoed doubtfully. '_ Didn't… I thought you guys broke up?'

_'Yeah w-we did but we're ahh, we're back together now,' Cullen said, trying to keep the breathlessness from his voice, to contain the happiness he felt inside._

'Really? Ah, man, I can't lie, I'm made up for you. God, but you haven't been yourself the last few months. It's all good now, yeah?'

_Cullen's eyes crossed. 'Yeah, so good.'_

'OK, amazing. Bring her, absolutely. Cass and Danny will be thrilled, they've missed her!'

_'Missed you too!' Madeline told Bran down the phone and Cullen heard his little brother chuckle as everything below his naval began to tighten possessively. He wanted this, wanted his family to be happy, to love Madeline as he did. There was no chance with Lee or Fenris but they were gone now, off with others, happy and free without him to tether them to a past they'd outgrown. Rosalie would come around, he'd tell her he was wrong about Madeline, show her how happy he was with her and Bran_ _… Bran had been shielded from the worst of Cullen’s abject fucking stupidity, so he knew no different. It was the happiest he'd felt in years. 'We'll see you at one, sweetie!'_

_He hung up and she kissed him when he came, seeing stars._

_*_

_It was probably the best Christmas of his whole life. With money for good presents, with family who didn't yet know how pathetic and useless he was, with Madeline holding his hand, Cullen was blissfully, ridiculously happy._

_It was a beautiful blur of a day. Cullen left his phone in the car, but part of him knew he didn't have to bother. Lee had called Bran that morning before he rang Cullen, but she hadn't called Cullen. It would have stung a lot more had he not had Madeline with him. Leliana was happy, she was with her new friends, off seeing the world and living her best life._

_Dancing with Madeline in Bran's living room to old Christmas songs, that was the best Cullen could hope for and it was far more than he deserved._

_They opened presents and he helped Bran make dinner but it was_ Bran's _dinner, Bran's house and Cullen didn't take charge of anything. He just helped._

_On the way back, Cullen took Madeline's hand in his and kissed it, ignoring the little flash on his phone, tiny dot of light indicating missed calls._

_*_

_She didn't stop seeing Mark. She split her time between them fairly, so she explained to Cullen. Madeline still sent him pictures of them together and though he wasn't jealous, couldn't be when he was lucky enough to have her back even only in this capacity, it still stung that he wasn't enough for her._

_New Year's Eve was for Mark, she told him and it was eminently fair because he'd had her for Christmas but that meant he spent it alone with nothing to do beyond dodge phone calls from anyone but Bran._

At big party with work lot, _he texted Rosalie after she tried to call him and he didn't answer._ No signal, love you!

_Lee called him still. He hadn't spoken to her since before Christmas, hadn't heard her voice in almost a month. It had never been that long before and Madeline told him it was good, that he was becoming stronger, more beautiful every day._

_It hurt that Leliana still felt she had to worry about him, that she couldn't quite move on without first making sure he wasn't dead in a ditch. He almost resented that she thought so little of him._

_On New Year's Day, Madeline woke him up with her clever, hot mouth wrapped around his cock, a small black box on his chest._

_A new phone, new SIM card, new number._

_*_

_Bran didn't understand why Cullen told him not to give the new number to anyone else, but Rosalie did._

_His baby sister sent him a long message that he skim read. He barely took in her worry, how she was deeply concerned, that she would be coming back in two weeks and they could talk more then. She told him she loved him over and over and he told her he loved her back, but said that in two weeks he might not be around much as he and Madeline were very busy._

_As a gift for changing his number, Madeline broke up with Mark._

_As a reward for moving to a bigger, nicer flat, she agreed to move in_ with _him._

_She went everywhere with him. Sometimes she went to work with him on the site, sat there in his massive coat, watching from the inside of the hut with the nice girls who worked the payslips and booked site work. She brought him plastic cups of tea and when she kissed him, all the other men on the site whistled and whacked Cullen's back, told him how lucky he was._

_He knew it._

_When he performed, she went to every show. She clapped the loudest, cheered his name and he felt so proud his heart could have burst then. She didn't work, she'd never worked and he did not begrudge her that. She tidied the flat sometimes and she let him be a part of her life, that was more than enough. He cooked for her and sometimes her friends when they dropped round. Her friends all liked him, all looked at him the same way Rosalie's friends used to back in school._

_Rosalie came back but Cullen dodged her masterfully. He didn't give her his new address and he remained vague when she asked where he was. One weekend he even splashed out on a hotel for a couple of nights with Madeline. It felt like an adventure, like they were on the run from people trying to break them up. His new phone hardly ever rang and the few times he had calls from unknown numbers, regions beyond the UK, he studiously ignored them, told himself aloud that it was scam callers._

_Madeline never asked him to hurt her anymore. They had the kind of sex that Cullen always wanted, the_ normal _kind and it blew the top of his head off. Madeline was, and had always been, an incredible woman. Even at her worst, there had just been something about her._

_But at her best, she was the centre of his world._

_*_

_'Don't say anything,' Cassie told him quietly, while he helped her load the dishwasher after dinner. 'But he's had an argument with Rosalie.'_

_Cullen froze. 'What?'_

_'Yeah,' Cassie said quietly. 'They're not speaking, haven't been for a while.'_

_It was like he couldn't breathe. 'Why?'_

_She sighed sadly. 'Rosalie swears blind that Madeline was hurting you, that you shouldn't be with her. Bran defended her, said it was ridiculous. That you two were happy. Was it the other two? Fenris and Leliana, did they maybe_ _… make it up?'_

_Oh God. He couldn't have that, couldn’t let anyone think even slightly the worst of those who'd been his best friends for so long, done so much for him._

_'I-I'll sort it,' he promised her, hand on Cassie's shoulder. 'Thanks for telling me.'_

_Later, when Bran took Cullen upstairs to show him his new TV in the bedroom, Cullen closed the door so they couldn't be overheard._

_Bran had been expecting it, stood there in the room he shared with his wife. King sized bed, wardrobes, gaming console and TV bigger than any Cullen had ever owned._

_'Is it true? Has she been_ _…?' his brother shook his head, nose wrinkling slightly. 'Hurting you?'_

_Cullen didn't begrudge him the slight disgust. Bran was so much more of a man than he was, could not understand the concept of letting a woman hurt a man._

_'No,' Cullen sighed, rubbing his eyes. He would make this right, had it all planned out, but it was still going to be completely shit. 'Look, I'm not proud of this but_ _… I lied to them._ _To Lee and Fenris.'_

_'Rosie too?'_

_'They told her, but yeah. I told them about how me and Madeline had tough times, like everyone does, but I went beyond that and I lied to them, told them she hurt me sometimes.'_

_'Why would you do that?'_

_'I was angry at her,' he lied. 'I just wanted to hurt her, wanted them to feel sorry for me because_ _…' he took a great big shuddering sigh. 'Because she'd met someone else.'_

_'Did she cheat on you?'_

_'No, come on, she'd never do that. She told me about this guy, Mark, who she'd met through her friends. She was honest, told me she was starting to get feelings for him. I was just so jealous, I wanted to make them hate her.'_

_Bran's already mild disgust fully bloomed. 'Fucking hell, how could you do that to her?'_

_Cullen closed his eyes. 'I know. I know it's awful. I was just so certain she was going to leave me and I couldn't bear for them to think she left me for someone else.'_

_'So you told them she was beating you up?'_

_'I shouldn't have done it.'_

_'Fucking right you shouldn't have! Christ, Cullen, I know you've had it rough, man, but so have we all. We've all been through shit, lost people. You need to tell them it wasn't true, they ring me constantly!'_

_'I will,' Cullen assured him hollowly. 'I'll call Lee and make sure she understands.'_

_'Fenris too.'_

_'Well, he's not—'_

_'He called me four times last week alone.'_

_No. No, no, fucking_ no. _He was meant to be letting them go, letting them move on. Now he was causing more upset, more drama._

_Hands clenching hard, he nodded. 'I'll sort this.’_

_*_

_They met him in a public place. Cafe in a busy high street, place with decent coffee and shit tea, but that was the least of his worries._

_He met Leliana Mordante and Fenris Cohen in a very busy, public place, phone out on the table so he could see Madeline's every message as she sent it. His girlfriend wasn't nervous or worried about him meeting them. She'd been kind and understanding, offering advice about how best to sever the ties between them._

_He owed them a clean break, owed them more than he could ever repay. Hopefully, it would be enough to offer them a life without having to drag him along at every turn._

_They arrived together. The mere sight of them had his heart clenching, nervous system jolting with decades of ingrained excitement to see them; old habit he would have to shake. Lee's hair was shorter, just above her shoulders, short and somewhat harsh. Her makeup was different, more professional. Fenris had cut his hair too, short at the sides and the back, the top still long, still that strange shade of silver, white tattoos standing out against his bronzed skin, even more tanned than before. Cullen liked that he was spending his time in the sun, it felt fitting._

_'Hi,' he greeted them, undeniably nervous._

_Lee's mouth was set in a thin line and she didn't reply right away, but Fenris did, his lovely voice all tied in knots with an anger Cullen had not really heard before._

_'That's it? Months of ignoring us, of fucking us off, of lying and hiding_ _… we get a "_ hi" _?'_

_Leliana sat down and Cullen tried to keep himself together because Fenris was never angry, was never the one whose emotions were out of control._

_'Sorry.'_

_'Oh,' Fenris sneered coldly. 'Now we get a "_ sorry" _too? Banner fucking day for us, eh Lee?'_

_'Sit down,' she told him with quiet insistence. 'And stop it. We talked about this.'_

_Fenris sat down in a way that jogged the table, sent Cullen's grey, weak tea spilling over the sides, not that he minded._

_'Yeah, we talked all about it,' he went on, glaring at Cullen in a way he never had. 'Talked all about how we shouldn't use accusatory language, shouldn't_ push _. Poor Cullen, poor tragic Cullen. Fuck you!' he hissed, eyes narrowing. 'You fucking_ bastard _, doing that to us!'_

_Leliana rubbed her eyes and Cullen didn't say a word to defend himself, took every ounce of that anger he knew he deserved._

_'How could you just fuck us off like that? Change your number, change_ flats _without so much as a head's up? Lee getting my shit in a box from you was the last we heard from you, you absolute prick! We've been going out of our_ minds _with worry, do you realise that?'_

_'Fenris.'_

_'No one knows where you live, not even Rosalie. She and Bran aren't speaking because of you! How the fuck can you sit there with that face, like you don't care that you've torn this family apart?'_

_'_ Enough _!'_

_Lee's voice cracked like a whip and people in the cafe turned to stare, but she didn't even notice. Fenris cut himself off, jaw working, eyes shining. Cullen hated it, hated himself so powerfully it was like a black hole in heart._

_'I am sorry,' he croaked. 'I didn't mean for this to happen.'_

_Lee sounded tired when she said, 'We know why you've called us here. Rosalie told us what you said to her. That you lied, that it was all lies about Madeline.'_

_He nodded, clinging to what little sanity was available. 'That's right, that's_ _… yeah.'_

_'Except that you never told us anything about Madeline,' Lee reminded him flatly. 'Not at first. You never came to us and said anything. We had to prize you away from her, had to pay her to leave. We knew she was hurting you because we_ know _you, Cullen. We know you're back with her.' Quietly, she added. 'We know why you're doing this. Pushing us away, isolating yourself.'_

_'I love Madeline,' he said, staring at the phone. He had a message from her, but he wouldn't read it until later when he was in the car, he'd need it then. 'I love her more than anything.'_

_'Here it comes,' Fenris sneered tightly._

_'I wish you guys all the best, but I-I don't want to be friends anymore. We had a great run and I'll always be thankful, but I don't want to be the third wheel. I've got my own friends,_ normal _friends and I'm happy. I'm happy with Madeline. I want you both to be happy too, so much, but not_ _… with me.'_

_Fenris, who was determinedly not looking at Cullen, uttered, 'Jesus Christ.' Lee reached out and took Fenris's hand. He watched the interaction, trying to take strength from it. They really were happy together, better off._

_'Look, I know we have this tangled past and you two have been,' he took a deep breath, ashamed that it rattled at the end. 'The best friends anyone could ask for. It's just that I've moved on. We've all outgrown each other a bit, don't you think?'_

_Leliana cleared her throat. 'We talked about it before, as I said, and we both agreed not to make things worse for you with her, so whatever you need from us, you have it.'_

_'Right,' he said, pushing through the worst of it. 'I appreciate that. It's not necessary. Things are different now, but thanks.'_

_Voice so low it trembled, Fenris asked, 'So you don't want anything to do with us, is that it?'_

_'It's not—' but he stopped himself quickly, masterfully. 'Not in a nasty way. I just want us all to move on. Get on with our lives.'_

_'You with Madeline?'_

_'And you two off together, being the amazing people that you are.'_

_Something in Fenris's expression cracked then, threatened to cave in and Leliana squeezed his hand soothingly._

_'Cullen,' she said, moving the full weight of her gaze onto him. 'It's just us here. We got you away from her before, we can do it again. If you say the word, we'll help you. Please tell me you know that.'_

_That his friends would literally drop everything in their lives to save him, help him, love him? He knew it._

_'It's not necessary anymore,' he told them, though it was oddly strangled. 'I really am happy. She's—it's different.'_

_'Yes,' Lee sighed. 'My Mother used to say much the same thing. Things would be better from then on, promises never to hurt me again. No one paints a nicer picture of the future than an abuser.'_

_'That's not the same.'_

_'Because?'_

_'Because,' Cullen said, mind scrambling for an answer, the obvious one not forthcoming until a good few seconds later. 'Because Madeline is not an abuser. I lied, made it all up.'_

_'You're lying now,' Fenris said, tone rapidly losing the inflection of his anger. 'You knew you were going to go back to her, didn't you? When I left and even before that?'_

_Cullen looked off to the side, through the windows of the cafe. 'You've both got busy lives. Our paths couldn't converge forever.'_

_'Fuck that,' his friend said quietly, but emboldened with passion born of hope. 'Fuck that shit, who cares if paths converge or not? We'll make them, we have_ always _made them! Stayed together no matter what, taken care of each other no matter the consequences!'_

_He just needed to be strong a little longer._

_'We're not children anymore.'_

_'That doesn't mean we don't love you.'_

_'And that doesn't mean_ anything _! Christ, can't you just get it through your heads? I don't want to be friends anymore OK? I just-just don't. Please. Please let it go. Let me go.'_

_Move on, move up, move away and be happy._

_Fenris opened his mouth to say something else, but Lee squeezed his hand haltingly and he just shook his head, gaze downcast once more. Cullen didn't like it, couldn't help but be reminded of how Fenris had stood, of his posture when they'd first gotten him back. He would so often look down. Eyes on the floor, like a slave._

_Better, better, better without him. It was a mantra, a prayer, a promise._

_'If you're saying you need space,' Leliana said, as much to Fenris as Cullen. 'Then that's what we'll give you. We won't pester Rosie or Bran anymore and we'll respect what you want, but know this. We won't ever, ever give up on you. The second you need us, we'll be here. You know our numbers, they won't change. Call us, we will always answer.'_

_Cullen almost felt relieved it had arrived at the endpoint, could barely contain his emotions another second longer. He nodded, barely letting her well-meant sentiment sink in as he got to his feet, dropping a note on the table for the coffee._

_'Have a great life,' he told them both, walking away and refusing the temptation to look back._

_*_

_In the days and weeks that followed, Cullen fell deeply into Madeline. He hardly ever saw anyone else, barely even thought of anyone. She was his world and in the emotional fallout of officially having cut his best friends from his life, she was his rock too._

_For the first time in their relationship, she took care of him. She cooked, albeit badly, and loved him just the way he needed. She got him through it._

_The only other reason he survived it was knowing that what he’d done, it benefited_ them _. It would make their lives better. Though it provided only meagre comfort, it did prevent him from backsliding and calling them, begging forgiveness._

_Madeline was there and he let her build him back up, built him into a man who stood alone, or something resembling that, at least._

_*_

_'I'm pregnant,' she told him in March, face pale as a sheet, eyes rounded circles of shadow. Cullen's heart clenched because he didn't want to play these games, absolutely couldn't bear it if that was starting up again but something in the way she said it just made him think maybe this time it was true. 'I went to the doctor today, did a blood test.'_

_Cullen's slow growing happiness was short lived, because the next thing she said was, 'I want an abortion.'_

_*_

_It sent a fissure through their relationship, crystal clear in hindsight and Cullen blamed himself, of course he did. She never told him to use condoms but he should have insisted, should have taken a more active role, even though she'd sworn she got that injection once every three months, the painful upper arm one._

_She didn't touch him for the week leading up to the appointment. Kept her distance, hardly spoke. She seemed in a state of fight or flight and though he hadn't objected, would not think to because it was her choice, he had made a mistake early on. Had thoughtlessly repeated history, walked the path of his friend all those years ago._

_'I could raise the baby,' he'd offered and her expression then, it had turned glacial. She looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time._

_'No,' she said finally, throat thick with disgust. 'No. I want it gone.'_

_Cullen worked to contain his own sadness, keep it from her because she had her own emotions to deal with. She didn't let him drive her there, didn't let him pick her up even. One of her friends went with her and he respected that, respected all her decisions._

_But it put a crack in what had previously been a pretty picture. When she got back, she was angry. The real kind, quiet and stiff. He was afraid to even speak to her. That night while she slept and he stayed away from her bed, giving her space, his phone rang._

_'_ Cullen,' _Aiden greeted when he answered._ 'The album drops in three days. I've got you booked for all kinds of promotional stuff and nine performances with two songs each. I hope you're ready for this to get real.'

_Cullen blinked. 'I—'_

'Great, I've emailed you an itinerary, make sure you pack enough for two weeks, right? OK, talk soon.'

_The line went dead and Cullen dropped the phone into his lap, rubbing his eyes. 'God.'_

_*_

_Cullen had performed before, he'd been on stage. Knew his way around a mic and his instruments._

_Promoting an album was a whole new hellish ballgame._

_Aiden dragged Cullen around London, then Kent, then Essex. He took him place to place, they would spend hours preparing for performances and then out he'd go, like a windup toy. He played and he sang. Some places, most if he was being honest, seemed to like it. There were a few memorable ones that didn't. Weak applause, club room too quiet. Cullen didn't like those, felt like he wanted to stop everything, never sing again but Aiden just took him to the bar for a drink and told him to sack up._

_'This is what it is,' he told Cullen after an especially lukewarm performance, the other musicians behind him getting a far more enthusiastic reception. 'Play your heart out, that's all we can do. Still get paid, still promoting.'_

_'It fucking sucks,' Cullen muttered, stirring the ice cubes in his watered down vodka and coke. 'I hate playing for people who didn't come specifically to see me.'_

_'It’s called shoving yourself down other people's throats,' Aiden told him. 'And your album is doing pretty well, for a new artist.'_

_Cullen snorted. 'It's not even in the top 100.'_

_'You're new.’ Aiden ordered another round and when Cullen protested, the older man glared until he relented. 'It takes time.'_

_While Aiden paid for the drinks, Cullen subtly checked his phone. He had nineteen messages from Madeline and five missed calls. With a controlled exhale he forced himself to put the phone away, reaching for the drink a little too hastily. It made a mess, slopped onto the bar and Aiden himself._

_'Sorry,' he muttered, cheeks reddening when Aiden laughed and wiped his thighs._

_'No worries,' his agent chuckled, using a napkin. 'Good thing black won't show up, eh? Don't wanna look like I've pissed myself.'_

_'Sorry again,' Cullen repeated, hating himself, hating how bumbling and awkward he was. Why couldn't he ever be cool like Fenris or calm like Lee? They were so, so much better than he was._

_'Hey, you OK?'_

_Cullen shook himself, having wandered into dangerous territory. 'Yeah, sorry.'_

_Aiden smirked over the rim of his glass, Malibu and cola. 'You apologise a lot.'_

_The phone in his pocket was vibrating. Cullen ignored it. 'I do?'_

_'Yeah.'_

_He could feel Aiden's gaze on him now as the music behind them blared and the audience screamed along, the grungy metal far more to their tastes. Aiden's attention felt heavy, like there was a residue about it that Cullen wouldn't be able to scrub off._

_'Do you want to fuck?' Aiden asked him, the way one might offer a mint. 'My hotel room is small, but we can be quick. Early night, more driving tomorrow.'_

_Cullen blinked hard. 'Sorry?'_

_Aiden laughed. 'There you go again.'_

_'Oh, no I_ _… I just mean…_ what _?'_

_His agent remained entirely unfazed. 'Do you want to fuck? You're bi, you told me. I don't mind giving it to a guy now and then. I'm horny, you're lonely. It's the road. We can fuck and nothing will change.'_

_Several objections sprang immediately to mind, chief among them was Aiden referring to their little_ tour _as The Road, when so far they hadn't left a two hour radius of Cullen's front door, but every word he might have had to say died in his throat._

 _Aiden wasn't bad looking. He was older than Cullen, in his late thirties and he'd aged well. He had that slightly greasy_ bad boy _look, hair shaved at the sides, always wearing black. Cullen thought of the first and only man he'd ever been with, Samson. He'd been older than Cullen too, an unmitigated disaster for the most part._

 _But_ _… he was still curious. He thought about men sometimes. Could never think about other women, because that would be betraying Madeline, yet the thought of a man was so abstract it almost felt safe. A small piece of himself that remained ever curious about_ men _and things like that leaned forward in futile hope._

_Only it wasn't there. Attraction was at zero._

_'Uh, no thanks,' was what he said and Aiden shrugged elegantly._

_'No worries,' he said, much to Cullen's relief. 'I'm gonna go back to my room and have a wank, then. See you for breakfast.'_

_*_

_It wasn't easy, juggling performances, travelling, sound checks, meeting people. Aiden kept telling him to smile, to be more energetic and Cullen did his best but it felt forced,_ was _forced. He was exhausted by the end of every day and without fail, his phone was the harbinger of abject doom._

_Madeline had not taken well to him leaving for two weeks, even less so not being able to contact him whenever she liked. Her messages were nothing less than pure, vile spite but Cullen developed a method of skim reading them, only taking in the essence of her vitriol. He ignored her calls sometimes and focused, for the first time in a very long time, on himself again._

_He didn't tell anyone else, Rosalie or Bran, about his tour. He went it alone, replied vaguely when they texted and he took those first steps into what he thought might actually become a career._

_'Two more weeks,' Aiden told him with a massive grin and a backslap. 'Great, right?'_

_'What?'_

_'Got you booked for two more weeks!'_

_Cullen couldn't think of what that meant for his career, for album sales, anything like that. He only thought of how insanely angry Madeline would be._

_*_

_It was five weeks into the ever increasing_ tour _and they were somewhere up North, Cullen wasn't sure where, when someone offered him pills and he took them._

 _'They'll pep you up,' Aiden's_ contact _said with a wink, downing one herself. 'Here.'_

_Cullen was too tired to refuse. Worn thin, on the verge of collapse. His days were physically exhausting, evenings emotionally draining and his nights were broken by vibrations against cheap wood, hate-filled messages from Madeline._

_It took another week for him to ask Aiden if he knew anyone who could get him something stronger._

_*_

_When he got back, money made, job done, Aiden was thrilled and he generously deemed Cullen worthy of a_ break. _Madeline was waiting for him._

_They had the worst fight they'd ever had that night he returned._

_When she threw a wine bottle at his face, he shielded himself just in time, arms crossed loosely in front of him. It hit the bones of his forearms hard, didn't smash, but his whole body seized, mind short-circuiting. Glass, jagged and broken coming for the soft, defenceless skin of his face. The bottom of Cullen's world seemed to drop out._

_Phantom sense memory of those years he suffered had him almost in shock as he stared down at that bottle, unbroken at his feet, having landed on soft carpet._

_She didn’t seem to understand. Kept hitting him even as he put his coat on, grabbed what he needed and left, high pitched ringing in his ears, the world tilting violently off it’s axis with every step he took._

_He walked out of the flat and went to someone he knew from the work site, someone who dealt on the side. They didn't have the pills that made him calm,_ jellies _as Aiden's friends had called them. The guy only had hardcore stuff and Cullen couldn't even muster up the most basic attempt to feel disappointed or put off._

 _He_ wanted _heroin._

_It was a calm affair. He'd done it a few times before, cooking up. Zevran had showed him years ago and though it took a couple of tries, he eventually made a fix, sat on his bathroom floor that night after Madeline had gone to bed._

_He strapped his arm up, slapped the skin to find a vein. Blissful little sting before he drew a measure of his own blood into the syringe, mixing the two liquids and then_ _… fucking then, in it went._

_Oh, it was heaven._

_It was pure love; temperate, velvet bliss._

_Orgasmic rapture turning his body into pure light._

_It was God reaching down to rub his back._

_It was all the oceans of the world swirling around him._

_It was so fucking_ good.

It was the end of the world.

_*_

_Just like before, in the early days, he remained high functioning. Shot up last thing at night, downed a few uppers in the morning, maybe a little bit of speed. He went to work, he met with Aiden who praised his energy and then he came home to get slapped around by Madeline._

_Her anger at falling pregnant,_ really _pregnant, seemed to be mostly centred inward. She still seemed furious that she'd left herself open to something like that, made herself vulnerable. She blamed Cullen in almost equal measure, of course, but he could tell it had shaken her._

_Madeline's temper had always been short and she was a woman quick to anger, quick to perceive injury where none was intended. The abortion was a gut wound to her, she couldn't let it go, even if she refused to speak of it. She never came with him to work anymore, never went to see him perform and he had to keep his guitar in the car because more than once, she'd tried to destroy it._

_His girlfriend hit him constantly. She clawed at him. She screamed terrible, awful things and only stopped when she made him cry. Neighbours called the police sometimes and when they came knocking, she would turn soft and sulky, as if Cullen had been the one leading the argument. They cautioned him, told them to be more quiet but Madeline didn't seem to care._

_He shot up at night so he could sleep, falling into unconsciousness as he dragged himself to the sofa where he always slept, thinking of his friends, warm in the knowledge that they were happy and safe._

_His birthday crept up on him. Aiden called that day to say that the album had done well and he would be getting his first cheque soon. It was a pitifully small number and Cullen was well aware of what Lee would say, what she'd do. Cullen quietly accepted it, thanked him and already mentally planned on how much heroin he could get with that._

_On the morning he turned twenty three, he was awoken when something hit him in the face. He jerked awake, panicking that she'd found his kit or something but no, it was just his black book._

_Oh no._

_'What the fuck is this?' she demanded, voice trembling and Cullen's fear was right there; a surge of ice cold to his heart that woke him from his groggy, drug-induced slumber._

_'It's—it's songs,' he told her, sitting up as fast as he could, mouth dry, tongue numb._

_'Fucking_ love songs _?' she spat, positively trembling. 'About_ her _, are they? Or are they about you and all your suffering? You pathetic fucking_ loser _, do you think anyone would ever want you? Ever want to hear you sing? You are_ nothing!'

' _It's just a book,' he told her, even though he knew how unwise it was to challenge her when she was like this. 'Just words.'_

_He half expected her to start hitting him, curl her fists and hurt him however she could, but instead she reached for the book and he was too slow, just too slow to save it in time._

_*_

_He couldn't bear to see Bran, didn't want to be around Cassie and Danny. Rosalie called sometimes but mostly, he ignored it, terrified his clever, empathic sister would simply hear it in his voice and_ know _. He was isolated again, miserable again._

_Except this time, no one was coming to save him._

_No Lee, no Fenris._

_True to their word, they'd given him space. He never heard from them, not that he would anyway. They were busy, they had lives and they didn't even have his new number. Sometimes he let himself fantasise about it, about their return. How they'd swoop in, take him away, keep him safe._

_It was grossly selfish and not remotely possible, but still, it was nice to dream._

_*_

_There was nothing extraordinary about the day he decided to call ahead of the nearest rehab facility and request a consultation. No rock bottom moment, no sudden realisation. He_ knew _what he was doing, had known that first night. It was a dark path to walk and there was only one destination._

 _He didn't want to die. He didn't want to become a funeral for his family to attend. He didn't want to be beholden to this poisonous shit_ again.

_'What the fuck do you think you're doing?'_

_'Packing.'_

_Madeline blinked, hands on hips. 'What for?'_

_'I'm going.'_

_'You're leaving_ me _?'_

_'I'm going to rehab.'_

_'Rehab,' she repeated dully. 'What, because you take pills now and then? Fuck off, Cullen, everyone takes—'_

_'It's heroin,' he explained with abundant, forcible calm. 'Heroin.'_

_She fell silent and he zipped up the bag. As he walked past her, she reached out. He flinched automatically and something like guilt flashed through her dark eyes._

_'I didn't know,' she said quietly. 'Cullen, I didn't know it was heroin.'_

_'Sorry to let you down,' he told her. 'I have to go, I'm getting the train. I've left you the car and everything is all paid through the month. Just be careful with shopping, yeah? Only use the credit card for—'_

_'Hey,' she said firmly. 'I'm apologising, do you realise that?'_

_'You don't apologise.'_

_'OK, well I am now.' She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, Cullen. I really am. I know I've_ _… treated you like shit these last months but it's been hard on me after the thing and with you not being here, I just kind of lost it.'_

_'I know. I'm sorry, this isn't your fault.'_

_'No,' she frowned, shaking her head. 'No, it is.'_

_He didn't want this, didn't want more games. It was only to make him stay, he was sure of it._

_'I have to go,' he told her, ignoring the crack in his voice. 'Have to go, OK? I'll text you when I'm there. Love you.'_

_Her quiet, uncertain apologies followed him out into the hallway._

*****

**-Part Three-**

_Cullen was twenty three and he was an addict._

_Rehab was a strange place. Quiet, clean and very organised. The people there were strange little planets unto themselves, wholly concerned with their own orbit and when he drifted close to one of them, they mostly tended to pull away, focused on their own path, their own suffering, except when in group, of course._

_Aiden was less than pleased but since it didn't affect sales and the whole thing was private, there wasn't much he could do beyond tell Cullen to pull it together._

_Cullen was fucking_ trying _._

_He slept in a shared room with a fan on a small desk. Shared it with his roommate, Declan. Of everyone he talked to, aside from therapists and counsellors, Declan was the person he spent the most time with._

_They shared sweets and wrote together at night, sat in separate beds, lamp on way past curfew while Cullen sweated it out. Fucking hideous poison he'd let into himself again, it was furious to be flushed out once more, inflicting the absolute maximum suffering that a body could truly endure. The pain was worse because it was so familiar._

_Declan was kind, rubbed his back while he was sick, wrung out cold flannels and offered them to Cullen before returning to his own scribbles._

_'You're doing good,' he told Cullen, settling easily into cross legged position on his bed, pen to hand._

_Cullen grit his teeth, suppressing the desire to reply irritably. Declan was younger than him, nice kid._

_'Thanks.'_

_'Did you finish that song?'_

_'N-not yet.'_

_'Well, sing it to me when you're done.'_

_Cullen's hand trembled and the pen nib was unstable as he wrote in the new notebook Declan had given to him. It was black, same as before, fresh pages untouched. He mourned the loss of his old one, of songs he'd never properly written out before Madeline had torn them all to pieces. Still, at least he had something to focus on._

_It was a feverish agony that brewed in his bones and bubbled his brain, came for him with a vengeance born of disgust and disappointment._

_When he couldn't stop tears from coming, curled in a ball, bones screaming, stomach rolling, Declan would whisper, 'Remember why you started.'_

_He said that a lot. Scrawny kid with scars on his wrists, mess of too-long hair that he sometimes tied in a little bun and eyes that had seen more trauma than Cullen could ever fathom. Declan talked openly in group, told the circle about his life and it left Cullen breathless, to hear of the horrors he'd endured on the streets._

_Something rumbled inside Cullen, some urge to insist that Declan come live with him, be safe, let Cullen cook for him. The Cullen of three years ago wouldn't have hesitated. The family house would have been mostly empty, plenty of spare rooms and beds._

_Except that now Cullen's life had fallen to pieces and bringing anyone_ home _was like a death sentence. His flat was small and it contained Madeline._

_Declan whispered it to him in the dark and Cullen would roll his eyes, grit his teeth and get on with the slow, monstrous process._

_After two weeks, he dried out. He started sleeping properly, eating properly. They weighed him once a week as they weighed everyone. Sometimes, a girl named Heidi would put stones from outside in her pockets when she stepped onto the scales. Cullen never said anything, no one did, but it was someone else he desperately wanted to take care of, unable to because of his own failure._

_The first time he'd looked down at the scales was a shock. He hadn't realised how much weight he'd really lost. Slowly, he gained a bit of that back. His appetite returned, he wanted meat and cheese and delicious things again. Risotto, pasta, fish, potatoes, oh God, he wanted potatoes. He wanted chips and gravy, he wanted curry and rice. Roast lamb with all the trimmings. He wanted dinner with Rosie and Bran, with everyone._

_Everyone._

_He talked about them a lot. When asked to talk about himself in group, he found that all he actually wanted to talk about was_ them _. He talked about Fenris, about Leliana. How amazing they were, how perfect and strong they were. How’d they’d grown up. What he hoped their future might look like._

_'You're in love with them,' his group leader pointed out one day._

_Cullen had baulked, full on reeled. He blinked hard, smiled and shook his head. 'Sorry?'_

_'You're in love with them,' she repeated while others in the group nodded in agreement, most likely bored to death with the amount they'd heard about two people who were not in their group, were not and never would be in rehab because they were strong and clean and everything Cullen was not. 'Do you not think?'_

_'No.'_

_'You sound defensive,' someone else pointed out._

_'I—no, I'm not defensive. They're my friends. Well, they're_ not _, but_ _… I love them like friends. I don't think about them like…_ that _.'_

_'Sex is a negative aspect for you,' group leader said. 'And not all love is sexual.'_

_'I love them,' he repeated, not liking this conversation at all. 'I'm not_ in _love with them.'_

_'What's the difference?'_

_'Sex._ Obviously _. I love my sister, I'm not_ in _love with her.'_

_'You talk about your sister in a measured capacity, though. What some would consider a normal amount, but you know, of course, there's no judgement here. You talk about your girlfriend only when encouraged. The people you talk about happily, the people who make you smile and light up, those are important to you, even if they're not in your life right now.'_

_'They're not in my life at all.'_

_'When they were in your life, things were better for you.'_

_Cullen's fingers began to viciously, slowly wring together. He took comfort from the small amount of pain there, eyes stinging traitorously._

_'Of course things were better, but not for them.'_

_'They never said that, though.'_

_'They didn't have to.'_

_'Cullen,' she said, all calm and kind, but too incisive, too observational for his liking. 'What you've told us leads me to believe part of the reason you removed them from your life is guilt over the intensity of your feelings about them, especially considering that they're romantically involved. If you were in love with them, you would feel bad about that, wouldn't you?'_

_'I—I suppose, yes.'_

_'And if you thought they were having problems, it would be easy to blame yourself as is your go-to coping mechanism, we've discussed that.'_

_He fucking hated therapy._

_'I guess.'_

_'Do you think it's possible that you removed them from your life in order to maintain emotional fidelity with Madeline and to also remove yourself from their relationship?'_

_He stared at his hands, throat working, heart beating hard._

_'Maybe.'_

_'How does that make you feel?'_

_'Angry.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Angry at myself for_ _… being this way.'_

_'What way is that?'_

_He shook his head, gaze fixed down. 'Insecure, pathetically reliant on others. Needy. Too intense. I_ _…' he sighed bitterly. 'I love too much. I love too deeply. I can see it, can see normal love in others. The way my brother looks at his wife, the way they interact.'_

_'You lean towards intense love and affection.'_

_'I suppose.'_

_'And Madeline offers you that.'_

_Cold trickled down his spine._

_'Somewhat.'_

_'Yes,' she agreed. 'Somewhat. But from what you've told us about her, most of the intensity of emotion she offers, comes with the downside of systematic abuse.'_

_'She's been through a lot.'_

_'So have you. So have your friends, your family. None of them hurt the ones they love.'_

_'I'm a big guy.'_

_'Does she tell you that?'_

_'No.'_

_'Do you tell yourself that? That size and strength negates pain?'_

_'I don't know.'_

_'Are you withdrawing?'_

_Cullen sighed irritably. 'No, I just_ _…I think you're wrong.'_

_'About Fenris and Leliana.'_

_'Yeah.'_

_'Because it would be devastating for you to realise you felt that way for them?'_

_'No, because—because I just_ don't _. I hate the idea of sexual connotation anywhere near them.'_

_'Sex doesn't have to be a bad thing.'_

_His back teeth ground together. 'I don't want that with them.'_

_'That doesn't necessarily mean you're not in love with them,' she explained gently. 'There are many shades and variants of love, of being_ in _love. If you were asexual, for instance, would that make you any less in love with your partner if you didn't want to participate in sexual interactions?'_

_'I'm not asexual.'_

_'Who we are and how we love is a spectrum that runs alongside us our whole lives. It bends and refracts and sometimes, it changes. As we grow, our skin grows too, it ages, it changes and who we are inside changes just the same. Emotional growth is healthy. Change is healthy. Sexuality is no different. I'm not the same person I was ten years ago, many aspects of myself have changed. I used to be very racist. I grew up in a house with people who would make your toes curl. Violent people who hated others on sight because of their skin colour and I learnt from them, had no alternative sources until I left home. I changed, I was so_ excited _to learn more, to meet new people. I wanted to be better, I knew I could be. We change and we shift right up until the day we die.'_

_Cullen was silent for a while, lifting his gaze just enough to glance around at everyone who stared, though not in a judgemental way. He took a careful breath and then said, 'I think maybe, that I might be uh, demi-sexual? You know what that is?'_

_'I do, but could you explain it for the group?'_

_'Yeah, so it's—' he cleared his throat, slowly building the confidence needed to address them properly. 'It means only being attracted to someone if you have a close emotional bond with them.'_

_'Sounds kind of like you,' Declan told him with a small smile._

_'You Googled this,' she observed. 'Can I ask when?'_

_'A few months ago, I think. Maybe a year.'_

_'What made you look it up?'_

_'I_ _… it's just.'_

_'It's OK, we're here for you.'_

_It was difficult to say, but he did his best. 'I don't feel attracted to Madeline that way, not_ _… sexually. Like, I know she's gorgeous. She's absolutely stunning, really, but I don't… want her like that. Not really. Even when she's nice to me, there's a part of me inside that's reeling from it. It feels wrong.'_

_'Made all the more complex by the way she treats you, of course.'_

_He nodded and Declan raised his hand._

_'Declan, you have an observation?'_

_'Yeah, I think that Cullen's half right but so are you. The truth is usually somewhere in the middle and I think,' the kid sat up straighter, bright eyes on Cullen. 'That you are in love with your friends, but for the three of you, it means something different. It doesn't mean sex or a relationship beyond the one you had already. I think for you, being in love relationship wise, it hasn't happened yet. You love your friends more than what seems to be normal. You are in love with them. They're a part of you and I think_ you _think that's unhealthy.'_

_Cullen looked away. 'Isn't it?'_

_'Did it feel unhealthy?' the group leader prompted._

_'No, but it was for them!'_

_'How do you know that?'_

_'Because they—' the words became stuck on something sharp, threatened to tear and spill._

_'It's OK.'_

_'Fuck's sake,' he muttered as his eyes turned wet. '_ Because _they are better off without me. Away from me, their lives are a million times better. They thrive, they're happy. They're in love. I just fuck everything up. Always._ Always _. They were only staying with me out of loyalty, because we were friends and because I can't function without them. That's not fair on them, is it? They should have a chance to-to go off and be happy. Live their lives away from me, live normally, with_ normal _people who do normal shit, who don't need them like I do.'_

 _Two tears slid down his nose as he kept his eyes on the floor again, everything inside_ hurting _to say aloud what he knew to be true._

 _'I probably am in love with them,' he uttered. 'It's more than normal love, but it's not_ _… there's_ nothing _sexual in it. I just want to be between them always. I want them with me, I want to live with them, I want to be part of everything they do and have them be a part of everything I do. I want things how they used to be but I know I've fucked it all up and I—' he took a sharp, serrated breath, wiping his nose. 'I know it's better for them to be away from me, but it hurt so much, like I'm cut in half. I can't function properly, and I've_ tried _. I'm so tired of trying. So tired of never being enough.'_

_'Why did you start using again, Cullen?'_

_He closed his eyes hard, warm tears trailing. 'I wanted the pain to go away and I wanted to feel that-that rush again, but most of all I_ _…I thought if I did, they'd come back. Like somehow they'd find out, like last time, and they would come back. I could protest, tell them I didn't need them, but they—they would see and they'd know I needed them. I miss them so much. It's co-dependency, right?' he said, looking up. 'You've talked about that before. Co-dependency is bad.'_

_'Sometimes. Not all dependency is toxic. Some people need others to function. The trick is_ letting _people help you. Letting them love you and trusting that in turn, you are giving enough back.'_

_'Well, they're gone now.'_

_'If they came back, could you trust that you would be enough for them? That if you were upsetting their lives, they would tell you?'_

_'I would_ want _to.'_

_'Talk to them,' Declan said quietly. 'Work it out, man.'_

_'Maybe, yeah.'_

_The group applauded. 'Great session today,' the group leader told him with a pleased smile. 'Great progress.'_

_*_

_Cullen didn't write songs that night. He lay staring at the ceiling, mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. Partial sentences, little bits and pieces of what it meant to be_ in love _._

_Long after Declan had fallen asleep, the kid curled up beneath his covers as if wrapped in a cocoon, Cullen's frown deepened. Confusion was good, so said his counsellors. Confusion was a sign that change was imminent._

_Cautiously, nervously, he slipped his hand beneath the covers, touching himself with a degree of self-exploration that made him feel both guilty and slightly terrified. Warily, frown still in place, he tried thinking of them, his friends._

_He thought about kissing Leliana, about his mouth on hers, body against his, tongues brushing and, oh God, no. Nope. He winced. No, no, no. That was gross and wrong._

_Quickly, he moved onto Fenris. Though he'd never said it aloud, he thought Fenris was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He tried envisioning kissing him, the feel of Fenris in his lap, lips brushing as he tangled his hands in that long, silver hair, bodies pressing—_

_'No,' he muttered sternly because that too was wrong, wrong, enormously, grotesquely wrong. Fucking counselling, Christ._

_But, as he slowly, lazily rubbed himself to inevitable physical hardness, he knew he hadn't_ quite _exhausted all options. Cautiously, he tried thinking of them_ both _, of how it would feel to be between them. To feel their arms around him, to be surrounded by all their love and appreciation, their support, their sheer fucking brilliance. Their voices in tandem, the way they'd slept together as children, as teenagers and then again, last year. The three of them against the world, the_ relief _of not having to carry the weight of everything, because with the two of them, he could breathe, he could exist without life bending his bones._

 _He wanted that, he did, but it wasn't sexual. The two feelings wouldn't combine, like mixing oil and water. He wanted them back, wanted their love and the complete, all-consuming functionality of their trio, but he didn't want to be with them sexually, even together. He had no adverse feelings at the thought of them together. He pictured it, pictured them kissing one another and it just made him happy. He smiled, actually smiled, like the twat he was and Christ what a state he was, lying in bed, in_ rehab _, masturbating and smiling to think of the friends he'd cast out of his life being happy together._

 _His smile faded, but his hand kept moving. Drugs tended to leech the sex drive and his body wasn't going to give up the opportunity for release when it had been so long. He let his mind wander, even though he'd never been very good at this, didn't know what to picture, had no real_ spank bank _as the boys at school had called it. Vague body parts and feelings, porn-esque sounds playing in his head but it wasn't enough._

_He let himself think of how it would feel to love someone the way Leliana and Fenris loved each other._

_An outline formed, drawn by love and adoration and sheer fucking obsession. This person who he could care for, cared for him in turn. To fall in love without reservation, to be with them, to make them happy, to be_ enough _, to be everything they ever wanted and to see it there in their face, in their eyes. To feel precious, to feel safe, to let them take control, oh_ God _, to let someone else take control, please, he wanted that. He needed it. Take over, take control, take everything. Sink down on top of him and whisper pretty words, make him glow inside, make him cry and draw that pleasure from the deepest, most guarded part of him, yes, yes, fucking hell,_ yes _._

_He came so hard he saw stars._

_*_

_Declan left a week before Cullen's month was up._

_It made Cullen sad, even more so when he knew Declan wasn't going to some wonderful place with people who would care for him, who would further his recovery. Back to the streets, back to the life he'd spoken so matter of factly about. He hugged Cullen goodbye, scrawny little kid who reminded him of Bran before his brother had started filling out._

_'Hey, look,' Cullen said when they parted. 'Take my number, yeah? Please?'_

_Declan smiled but it was perfunctory. He took the piece of paper, put it in his pocket and left with a cheery wave, beat up backpack over one shoulder._

_*_

_Cullen was twenty three, he was an addict and he could no longer pretend he didn't need his friends to live. Hours of therapy, of counselling and group sessions brought him to that uncomfortable realisation. He had a choice as to how to proceed._

_Keep going this way, push on and learn to live without them._

_Or not._

_Call them. Contact them._

_Talk to them, as Declan had suggested._

_When Cullen completed his time, he shook hands with everyone who'd helped him, wished everyone else the best of luck and he stepped out into the car park to find Madeline waiting for him, leaning against the car, arms wrapped around herself in the late September sun._

_She greeted him with a smile; weirdly uncertain little thing._

_'Hey,' he said, stopping before her. 'You drove here?'_

_'Yeah, thought someone should pick you up.'_

_It was painfully awkward between them. Cullen didn't understand her motives, the way she was acting._

_He was about to ask how she was, wanting to break the silence, but she broke it first. 'I'm sorry,' she said in a rush. 'I'm really sorry. I've treated you like shit,_ again _, and I didn't mean to push you this far.'_

_'You didn't cause this,' he only half lied._

_She shrugged miserably. 'I didn't help.'_

_'No,' he admitted softly. 'Maybe not.'_

_'You uh, you wanna get in?'_

_Cullen nodded, smiling tiredly. 'Sure.'_

_*_

_'I think we should break up,' he told her over tea that night._

_She seemed sad. 'I don't want to be without you.'_

_'We're not good together.'_

_'I'm_ _…' she sighed. 'I'm better with you. Happier.'_

_Cullen badly wanted to ask if that was even true. She seemed miserable so often, but they had been happy before that, before the baby. A small, sickly part of him that yearned for sun reasoned that perhaps they could give it one last chance._

_'Maybe,' he said slowly. 'We could try again, but I have a condition.'_

_She nodded earnestly. 'OK?'_

_'I need them back.'_

_'What?'_

_'You know who I mean.'_

_'But—Cullen, you agreed it was for the best. That they'd be happier without you. Better off.'_

_That made him swallow, anguish choking him for a moment but he recovered quickly. 'I trust them to be honest and tell me if that was the case. I can_ learn _to trust that, but I can't_ _… be without them. I just can't.'_

_Madeline looked down. She was barely wearing any makeup, her hair up in a simple ponytail. Even six years older than him, it made her seem so much younger. 'I can be better,' she offered. 'It can be like it was before, before the_ _… abortion.'_

_'Even so, I need them back. They might not even want that, but I have to talk to them. This is_ _…' he took a shaky breath, sitting back. 'This is who I am. They're a part of who I am. I want to be honest with you, if we do move forward together.'_

_'Do you want that? To be together?'_

_'I_ _… I don't know.'_

_'Do you love me?'_

_'I love you, yes.'_

_'Are you in love with me?'_

_Cullen closed his eyes. 'No.'_

_He heard her sniffle, heard her sip her coffee. 'That's fair, I suppose. OK, I won't object to you trying to uh, patch things up with them, if you give me another chance. I promise things will be better.' She took his hand and when he opened his eyes, he saw strength of intent blazing in hers. 'I_ promise _, Cullen.'_

_*_

_He knew their numbers by heart, had done for well over a decade, ever since they'd had phones. Chunky, heavy things back then, but no matter the evolution of the phone, their numbers had never changed._

_He called Fenris because he didn't want to disturb Lee in case she was busy, even though it was a Saturday. She would have graduated by now, or would be soon. If Fenris was busy, off training or whatever, he wouldn't have his phone on him, or such was Cullen's terrified logic. He sat in his car in front of a quiet park the evening after he'd returned from rehab and he listened to the sounds of a call going through, that strange noise that only ever meant_ trying to contact _someone._

_It rang and it rang, he was about to give up when it clicked to life and a deep voice, the one he'd know fucking anywhere answered._

'Cullen, hey.'

_Fenris sounded hesitant, cautious. Not angry, though. The lack of anger had him bursting into tears on the spot. It was too much, his heart couldn't take it. He missed them, missed them both so fucking much it was a physical pain and he was pain worn by this point._

_'I'm so sorry,' he cried, one hand over his eyes. 'I'm so sorry, Fenris.'_

_He heard Fenris moving, heard him aggressively_ shushing _someone nearby._ 'Hey, it's OK. You don't need to uh, to apologise for anything. What's happening? You need help?'

_Cullen swallowed thickly. ‘Yeah, I think I do.'_

_*_

_He went to them, to Lee's university. Fenris had been living with her for the last few weeks, apparently, the pair sharing her already cramped student accommodations. The drive there was short enough, but Cullen was nervous, over-eager. He snarled when traffic lights slowed him, hissed at drivers who lingered in the middle lanes and only when he made the turn off from the motorway, headed to those beautiful grounds he'd visited a few times before, did he allow himself to calm down._

_Another kind of anxiety inside him simply refused to abate, all twisted up with excitement, with_ need _and so much love his heart could barely stand it._

_He parked up and when he got out of his car, gravel beneath his feet, birds singing in the lush trees surrounding the university, he realised they were already there, waiting for him._

_Leliana's arms wrapped around him first. He barely had time to make out her expression before she swept him up, hugged him tightly, but he'd seen enough to catch the emotions there. He just about had time to get one arm around her in turn before Fenris hugged him as well. None of them had said a word, simply clung to one another,_ three _again. Wrapped between them again, as if nothing had changed. He held them tighter beneath the sunshine, all the world made right again._

_*_

_They talked for hours, all through the day. Leliana called out for pizza and they talked some more. Endless tea, so many tears, just_ talking _about everything. He let it all come pouring out. The terrible truth about Madeline, every cruel, awful thing she had done to him. The abortion, the lies, the other men, pretending to be pregnant._

_He told them about his relapse, about rehab and therapy. It wasn't surprising to find out that they already knew about rehab, but they hadn't known before that that he was using._

_'We would've come,' Fenris said, like it was obvious and it was. 'We didn't know.'_

_'But it's good,' Leliana said, leg curled beneath her as she sat in a beanbag chair while Cullen sat with Fenris on her bed. 'This is a good thing for you.'_

_'It was,' he agreed. 'I.. I learnt a lot. About myself, about how I feel, how I cope.' He shrugged. 'How I_ don _'t cope.'_

_He didn't tell them about the whole being in love thing, wasn't sure he could navigate the language properly, wasn't sure it was even necessary. Being there with them again, it was the best he'd felt in years._

_They talked about his_ tour _, about how Aiden had totally screwed him for money, but they said they'd heard him on the radio once or twice which Cullen hadn't even been aware of._

_Then they told him about what had been happening in their lives._

_They were still_ Not Together _which Cullen didn't like, but he respected the decision behind it. Lee told him of how her grades had dropped so much that she was taking summer school classes to catch up, so that she could still graduate. Told him of endless assignments she'd ignored, chosen to go partying instead and now, the grim consequences. Student accommodation was year round due to their summer intake and she was lucky, really._

_When Cullen apologised for it, she told him off, reminded him that people made mistakes that had nothing to do with him, but he still felt that guilt keenly._

_Fenris regaled him with tales that seemed like something out of a film, of close calls and near misses, new scars. Of Anders gifting him his precious knife when Fenris had saved him, caught a nasty slash up the back for his efforts._

_Cullen wouldn't have believed such things had they come from anyone else. The scar up Fenris's back, freshly stitched not weeks ago, had Cullen feeling something like vertigo then. His nervous system was unprepared for the notion that anything, fucking_ anything _could hurt Fenris, not anymore. His friend pulled the leg of his jeans up, showed him where he kept the knife in his boot._ Justice _, engraved into the blade in pretty italics._

_Cullen eyed the sharp, lethal little thing doubtfully. ‘Should that be in your boot?’_

_Fenris shrugged, slotting it with ease into some kind of small leather holster sewn into the back of his jackboot. ‘I’ll give it back when he saves my life.’_

_‘So as you can see,’ Lee said, tossing Fenris a custard cream that he caught expertly in his mouth, even though he had to dive for it. ‘We’ve fallen apart without you.’_

_*_

_They talked through the night and when the sun began to rise somewhere around 4am, they both piled on top of Cullen on the thinnest, narrowest bed he'd ever laid on, barely enough room for all three of them and that was only if he wrapped his arms around them both._

_It felt_ _… strange, like the last time it would ever happen. So much had been said, so much honestly laid bare and he was raw from it. They laid together like kittens, like they had as children, taking comfort from their bond returned. Cullen fell asleep first, Fenris humming one of his songs as he drifted off into peaceful, companionable darkness._

_*_

_The next day brought a difficult conversation._

_'I'm giving it another go,' he said while they ate in the student mess hall, many looks as they passed, but Cullen couldn't care less._

_Before either of his friends could reply, an older woman wearing a blazer over a thick jumper came over, concerned frown in place._

_'Are you two students?' she asked Cullen and Fenris._

_'No, they're my escorts for the weekend,' Lee sneered, tone dripping in disdain. 'Of course they're students. Starting here next week, I'm giving them an un-official tour today._ Thanks _ever so.'_

_The woman, who was perhaps a professor, nodded, blushing as she left and Cullen burst out laughing, hands over his mouth to contain it._

_'Christ, Lee,' Fenris said, looking over her shoulder at the woman. 'I think you made her cry.'_

_'Old bat, trying to interfere with my boys. Now, where were we?'_

_Cullen's smile faded a bit. 'Madeline.'_

_Fenris sighed, picking at his toast. 'I think you two should break up.'_

_'I agree,' Lee said, arms crossed. 'At best, it's a toxic relationship that relies on an imbalance of power and gross manipulation.'_

_'I_ _… I do still love her,' Cullen admitted. 'I think I need to give it another try. I know what you're going to say, I do, but she's different now. I don't think she realised what she was doing until I—'_

_'Checked yourself into rehab for using heroin?'_

_He sighed. 'Yeah, that.'_

_'Well, look,' Lee said, nodding. 'You'll do what you need to and we'll be by your side, how's that? I think it's probably best if we don't see her because, quite frankly, I might end up clocking her. We respect your right to make your own choices, even if we wholeheartedly disagree.'_

_'We do,' Fenris reaffirmed. 'She's not right for you. She hurts you. You'd be happier without her.'_

_Cullen listened to everything they said, let himself feel the intentions behind their advice, but he also felt the ghost of that_ outline _. That sensation of wanting love, wanting what he'd fantasised about in rehab._

_He had to give it a try._

_'I hear you,' he told them. 'I'll see how things go.'_

_They didn't seem happy with that, but they let it go for the time being. Lee had classes after that and she kissed them both on the cheek, sternly warning Cullen that they were going out for dinner and that was that, got it? He laughed and agreed easily. Madeline had said it was fine for him to take a couple of days._

_He and Fenris hung out in Lee's tiny room, bed all rumpled from where they'd slept there, huddled and warm and safe._

_'Are you seeing him, Anders?'_

_'No, not really,' Fenris said, considering. 'We had a kind of_ fling _. He's a lot of fun, still really annoying but in_ _…' he grinned. 'In a good way.'_

_Cullen smiled. 'Oh, yeah?'_

_Fenris shrugged smugly. 'Yeah.'_

_'How?'_

_'It's kind of like hate sex, but less so. Hmm, irritated sex, maybe. Being with a guy is completely different. He tops. It's weird.'_

_'Good weird, though?'_

_'Yeah. Good weird.' His friend sobered somewhat. 'I still love her. She's_ _… well, she's it for me, y'know? Sex is one thing, messing around is one thing but Leliana. Well, she's_ ever _ything.'_

_'She's seeing other people?'_

_Fenris replied, 'A professor, right now.'_

_'Not the one from the mess hall?'_

_They laughed. 'No, not her. Some older guy. Super intellectual, you know how it is. He's helping make sure she graduates.'_

_'Can't believe she'll be twenty four next month, it's crazy.'_

_'I'm sorry you spent your birthday alone.'_

_'It's OK, doesn't matter.'_

_Fenris levelled him with a look. 'It matters. You matter, Cullen. I know it's hard for you to hear, but without you. I couldn't think straight. I kept losing my focus. Couldn't run like I used to. We need you too. I need you. I don't_ _… don't ever want to be without you again, all right?'_

_Cullen stared at him, back against the wall, knees half bent, arms atop them. He thought of that new scar, of how they used to run around the park in their old neighbourhood and even though Fenris could run literal circles around him, they always ran_ together _. Thought of Leliana - smartest person he knew - having to complete_ summer school _._

 _Maybe_ _…_ maybe _they needed him too._

 _It wasn't a good thing. He didn't want to affect anyone with his absence, didn't want to be the cause of_ anything _bad for_ anyone _, but_ _… it cemented something in his perspective. Made him surer of his place there._

_Fenris seemed to be reading his thoughts, watching him in that way he did. 'We've always needed you,' he said softly. 'That will never change. You're in here,' he told Cullen, pressing a hand to his marked chest, white ink line spanning from beneath the sleeves of his black tee like tree vines. 'For both of us.'_

_'I know that.'_

_'You do? Really?'_

_Cullen thought about it, searched himself and gave a small smile. 'Yeah, I think so.'_

_*_

_Leliana completed her final week of summer classes and Cullen saw them both every day. He'd lost his job on the construction site, but he honestly didn't care too much. London was full of such jobs._

_He went back to performing in small places, just turning up on open-mic nights with his guitar, Lee and Fenris in tow while he played his songs. He ignored Aiden's pleas for him to take more paying jobs, to_ promote _._

 _One night he performed a guitar cover of_ Wild Horses _and they went absolutely crazy for it, clapped, cheered and even screamed. They chanted his name, wanted more and so, when the talent manager gave him a nod, he played another, one of his own songs called, Doorways, and they went even crazier. The applause lasted well after he went backstage, smiling with a half bit lip._

_'You were great,' the same talent manager told him. 'You normally play bigger circuits, don't you? I've seen you before.'_

_'Oh, um,' he said, caught off guard. 'Yeah, sometimes. I'm Cullen.'_

_'That's it!' she said smiling widely. 'I heard you on the radio a couple of weeks ago. Not bad, actually.'_

_'Thanks.'_

_'Who's your agent?'_

_'Aiden Wakelin.'_

_She winced. 'Ooh, that's not good.'_

_'It's not?'_

_'No. He's got a terrible reputation and hardly any clients, for good reason. Your contract with him must be up soon, right?' He nodded. 'OK, well once you've done a bit of shopping around, give me a call. I'm not an agent, but I know a few good ones and more importantly, you need a manager.'_

_'A manager?'_

_'Yeah. You can work with agents as you please, but it's a manager who really does the things you need. Promotion, negotiation, all the nitty gritty things that suck the fun right out of being a musician. Here.' She handed him a card. 'Thanks again for coming. We'd love to book you for a proper performance, if you're willing.'_

_He really was._

_*_

_'I don't know,' Madeline said while they watched_ Bake Off _together, her back against his chest on the sofa. 'Aiden's been good to you.'_

_Cullen scoffed lightly. 'He hasn't, not really. I barely made any money from the album, even though sales were good, plus Lee told me he stole intellectual properties from three of the best songs without even telling me.'_

_He felt her bristle at the mention of the name, but she didn't comment. It had been a week since he'd got back. A week since their quiet, stilted conversation about what to do next. She was making effort, he could tell._

_'Well,' she said, looking back at the TV, leaning more into him. 'It's up to you.'_

_*_

_Life was quiet for a while. Cullen took comfort in the peace, in the new normal that was his life. He saw Fenris and Lee almost every day, made time with Madeline at night, worked on his music whenever he had the chance but he knew he'd need a job again soon. Construction work was always available, but he was starting to think about performing full time, being a singer full time._

_He called Isabela and they met for_ lunch _which ended up being the pair of them eating_ KitKats _in a park. She sat on the grass, had brought her guitar because she was the kind of woman who could totally and completely pull that off._

_'You got a YouTube channel yet?'_

_'No.'_

_She rolled her eyes, smirking. 'Well, you need one! Build a base, reach out. It's not for monetary gain, I see the concern in your oh so pure eyes. Best place to put yourself out there, all the little songs you can't get onto an album. Good stuff, by the way,' she added, nicking a piece of his chocolate bar. 'Loved that last one, what's it? Y'know, the one where you’re always in the kitchen?'_

_Cullen laughed to hear one of his songs spoken about like that._

_'Hold Me Up?'_

_'Yeah! That one was cute, really loved it! So, YouTube. You want some help?'_

_'Would you mind?'_

_'Well,' she sighed luxuriantly. 'Depends.'_

_'On?'_

_'How many more KitKats you got back at your place?'_

_*_

_Madeline didn't like Isabela but Cullen wasn't surprised, nor was he especially worried. Isabela helped him to set up the account, even made him a proper, grown up email address that wasn't a hilarious name he'd come up with in school. She showed him how to use his phone to record, but pointed out it was worth getting a decent microphone and a few other bits too._

_She jammed with him as an example, the pair playing and singing_ Landslide _by Stevie Nicks. He protested when she then uploaded the video to his channel, giving him a highly bemused look. He realised there was no need to protest. This was what he wanted. Mildly embarrassed, he apologised, cheeks red, and let her put it on the internet._

_'There,' she declared happily. 'Not so scary, right?'_

_'Yeah,' he said, watching the progress bar tick slowly up. 'I suppose.'_

_*_

_Good times were not built to last._

_In the weeks leading up to an event that would send a shockwave through their lives, he knew that Lee and Fenris had been slowly getting back together. It seemed sort of inevitable to Cullen, who never interfered, but did allow himself to feel irrationally pleased about it._

_It was little things, really. They'd always been tactile, but it was different when Fenris would touch her cheek, hold her gaze. Different when they kissed goodbye, proximity lingering. Cullen wanted only the best for them both and he knew they were circling again. Like the song his Mum had loved best in all the world, coming around again, that's what they were doing. It was a matter of time._

_The night he'd performed in a pretty big club to a decent audience, had then bid them both a good night and gone home to Madeline while they'd left together, that was the night he got a call at 3:44AM._

_He saw Fenris's name on the caller ID and answered right away, swinging his legs over the side because Fenris did not drunk dial, did not call this late unless there was an emergency and when Cullen heard that awful, shuddering breath preceding any words, he already knew it was bad._

_*_

_Boots and coat over pyjamas, keys and phone in his hand, Cullen ran through the quiet, late night corridors of Saint Thomas's hospital. He ran and skidded to a halt across squeaky floors, frantically examining the direction boards, searching for the ward Fenris had told him over the phone, panic rendering him useless and the worlds vaguely unreadable._

_'Cullen.'_

_He spun around, Fenris at the end of the corridor. His friend stood there, horror etched into every part of him, covered in blood._

_Her blood._

_'Fucking hell,' Cullen muttered, running the small distance between them. They met in a rough, almost painful clash and Cullen's hug could have offered no comfort beyond simply_ being there _. They parted, some of the less dry blood sticking to Cullen's coat. 'Where is she? What’s—she OK?’_

_Fenris shook himself. There were tear tracks through the blood on his face, great long streaks cutting clean through the smears. He seemed to be in shock._

_'She's in surgery. We can't see her yet but I'm waiting with Josie.'_

_Cullen nodded, teeth chattering slightly, adrenaline taking root and manifesting like cold. In a low voice, he asked, 'What the fuck happened?'_

_It was a fair question. Fenris had barely said anything over the phone._ Lee was hurt, they were at Saint Thomas's, come quickly, _that was it._

_'I_ _…' Fenris said and he sounded so sick that Cullen thought he might pitch forward at any moment, but they walked onward, down hallways that smelled of sterile static, headed to the major trauma unit, much to Cullen's immense dread. 'It was my fault.'_

_They turned a corner and saw Josie sitting in the waiting area, but she couldn't see them yet. Cullen yanked Fenris back, holding his upper arm tightly. Fenris was barefoot in a t-shirt and boxers. Night clothes, all bloodied up. 'What_ happened?'

_Fenris blinked fresh tears down his face, expression numb, eyes wide. 'I did it. I stabbed her.'_

_Shock hit Cullen like a slap to the face. '_ What?'

_'The knife in my boot. I don't know what happened, maybe I was dreaming, but I woke up and the blade was in her chest, my hand put it there. I stabbed her. I stabbed her, Cullen. I stabbed Lee.' He was saying it over and over, increasingly matter of fact, voice becoming lower and lower. He looked up at Cullen then, expression so young and blank that Cullen couldn't stand it, had only seen that face one other time before. 'If she dies, you'll kill me, won’t you? I trust you to do it for me.'_

_Cullen had never in his life hit his best friend. They'd wrestled and they'd sparred. Run together and argued. Never once had he punched his friend and that occasion, stood there in a horrifyingly quiet hospital with Leliana's blood on them both, marked the very first time._

_It was a bad punch, likely hurt Cullen more than Fenris but he didn't care. It came out of nowhere, an explosive anger combined with pure combustible panic. Fenris stumbled, almost fell. It drew Josie's attention and she hurried over, also stained with swipes of blood._

_Fenris looked up at Cullen,_ grief _writ large and submerged beneath layers of shock-induced disconnect but before he could say anything else, Cullen grabbed him by the collar of his tee. He yanked him close and slammed him into the nearest wall, even as Josie laid a would-be soothing hand on his arm._

 _'You don't get to say that to me,' Cullen snarled, voice cracking. 'You don't get to make a mess and_ leave _, that's not who we are!'_

_Fenris hardly seemed to hear him, blinking slowly, like he was dazed and maybe he was, but not from Cullen's punch._

_'I stabbed her.'_

_'Shut the fuck up!'_

_'I did this to her, what if_ _… Cullen, what if she doesn't make it?'_

_'Stop, come on, stop it!' Josie urged fiercely, pulling Cullen off him. 'Don't draw attention, I mean it! Come on!'_

_'You fucking coward,' Cullen went on, shrugging Josie off, unable to look away from his bloodstained friend. 'Left her before and now leaving again?'_

_'N-no.'_

_'You_ stay _this time and you_ _… you help her through it, you got that? Whatever that means. Fucking asking me that, how dare you?'_

_In a broken, bare little whisper, Fenris's expression crumpled and he uttered, 'I can't live without her.'_

_'I know you can't,' Cullen told him and they were so close, far too close for how it would look to outsiders, but he didn't care, couldn't be anywhere else but in that space then. In the thick of Fenris's suffering, close enough to taste in the air that metallic smack of her blood mixing with salty water, flooding his senses, stronger than enforced sterility. Lee's blood and Fenris's tears, where else would he be? 'Sh-she'll be OK. You know her, she's strong.'_

_'She is,' Josie agreed, looking between them warily, one hand on Cullen's forearm, one on Fenris's chest. 'She definitely wouldn't want this. Please. They'll call security, if they already haven't and she told you what to say, Fenris, come on.'_

_Cullen let go, stepping back. 'What did she say?'_

_The young woman subtly looked around and then spoke quietly. 'To say someone broke in and attacked her. The last thing she said to me was don't let them take Fenris.'_

_Cullen swore fluently, wiping his eyes. He looked towards the grey doors of the surgery where she presumably was. His grief was such that he couldn't catch his breath, could not even calculate what her loss would mean for him and his world. It was unthinkable, unimaginable._

_When he looked back at Fenris, his friend was staring off to the side, slumped against the wall where Cullen had left him._

_'It was an accident,' Cullen said quietly, nodding to himself._

_Fenris blinked hard. 'Like that makes a difference?'_

_'Look, all that matters is that she survives,' Cullen told him. 'Nothing else matters for now, so get it together, all right?' When Fenris didn't react, he stepped forward, unsure of what he'd been about to do, but Josie stopped him._

_'Go sit down,' she told him. 'Go, you look like you're about to pass out.'_

_Cullen did as he was told, even though it was the kind of instruction Lee would have given and that thought threatened to unmoor him, it genuinely did. He sat on the plastic faux leather, dropped his head into his hands and waited._

_*_

_Police came before any news did. They asked what had happened. Josie did most of the explaining, took over seamlessly while Fenris sat beside Cullen, huddled up, small and unreachable. Cullen wanted to wrap an arm around him, but the dividers of the chairs made it difficult and he couldn't quite come to terms with his feelings then anyway._

_'I was sleeping on the floor,' he heard Josie say. 'Someone broke in through the window, they were rifling around. I woke up just as Lee, Leliana, woke up and tried to stop him. Fenris woke up right after. The guy went back out the window. There's a little roof below, easy to climb. Not the first break in we've had, but the first time one of them has had a knife, for sure.'_

_They took brief statements from Cullen who prodded Fenris through many of their shockingly perfunctory questions. Told to come by and make statements the next day, they were left alone after less than half an hour. Fenris fell into silence and didn't re-emerge until someone came out those grey doors, pulling off a surgical mask._

_Cullen stood up so fast his knees almost gave out but Josie was right there, helping him, strong fingers around his arm and they hurried forward, even as Fenris stayed in his chair, head in his hands, expecting the worst._

_'She's in recovery,' the surgeon told them and Cullen dragged in a massive, shuddering whoosh of air because recovery was good, recovery wasn't_ gone _. Recovery wasn't_ we did everything we could. _'Two of the stab wounds were fairly straightforward to close, but the third was significantly deeper and it caused some serious damage.'_

 _Any relief was gone in a horrifying instant. 'There were_ three _?'_

_'Our main concern, once we stopped the bleeding, was the damage done to her spinal cord. The third stab wound was the worst by far.'_

_Cullen shook himself. 'Her—her spine?'_

_'Yes. She's stable for the time being and I'm optimistic, given her age and health, that she will recover completely, but spines are tricky things. Time will tell. She's also lost an enormous amount of blood. She'll be in recovery for many hours yet. Are you her family?'_

_'Yes,' Cullen answered instantly. 'I'm her brother.'_

_'We need you to fill out a few things and I assume the police have already been by?'_

_'They have,' Josie said, squeezing his arm. 'We're going tomorrow to give statements.'_

_'She was attacked while sleeping.' It wasn't a question, but Cullen swallowed over the lump and nodded anyway._

_'Right, well, she's sedated for the time being. It's standard for recovery from such traumatic wounds. Before that, she was speaking quite a lot. She said she was attacked, that someone came in through the window. She was concerned about those in the room with her. We'll pass those details along to the police, of course.' The surgeon gave a small smile. 'She strikes me as a very strong woman.'_

_Understatement of the fucking century._

_Arms tight around himself, Cullen asked, 'What happens next?'_

_'As I said, she'll be in recovery for several hours, at least until midday tomorrow, kept under sedation. I would recommend you go home, get some rest, maybe tell your friend to shower. Get the police statements done as soon as you can. They'll have more chance of catching whoever did this.' The surgeon placed a hand on Cullen's shoulder and spoke in a lower voice. 'She's stable for now, all right? You want to be there for her? Go get this all in order, come back ready to support her. Don't sit here all night like this. Believe me, the last thing a trauma patient wants to see when they wake up is the people they love looking like absolute shit.'_

_No one laughed, but Cullen appreciated the attempt at levity._

_'I have to walk her bloodwork up to the lab. Take my advice, OK? Come find me if you have questions. Questions are good. I'm Doctor Solas. I'll still be on shift when we assess her in six hours.'_

_'Thank you,' Josie said as he walked away and Cullen tried to let it sink in, let any of it sink in._

_Three stab wounds. Spinal cord. Blood loss. Recovery._

Three _._

_He turned slowly on the spot. Fenris was in the same place, not looking up, not moving. Cullen went towards him, affected by the strange, wholly unfamiliar feelings inside him then._

_He was so angry, so furious that he wanted to hurt his friend. Hit him again, shake him, smack him across the face and demand why,_ why _had he done this to Lee? Why had he kept that stupid knife in his boot when he was staying with her? Why hadn't he been more careful?_

_Ignoring Josie's low warnings, he crouched in front of Fenris, mouth in a thin line._

_'Hey,' he said. 'You hear that?'_

_Fenris shook his head, didn't move otherwise._

_'She's in recovery,' Cullen said, voice trembling. 'She'll_ _… be asleep for hours yet. We need to go home, get you cleaned up.'_

_'I can't.'_

_'You can and you_ will _.’_

_'Can't.'_

_'Don't make me drag you out of here, I swear to God. You heard that Doctor, I know you did. You're covered in her blood. You have to get cleaned up. Hey!' he snapped, shoving Fenris's shoulder and it jogged his friend enough to make him look up, blinking tears down his face. Fucking hell, hadn't they all cried enough to fill a lifetime? 'Don't make this about you, not here. All that matters is doing what she would want, got it?'_

_Fenris seemed so very far away when he lowered his gaze but kept his eyes on Cullen. 'What she would want,' he echoed._

_'Yes,' Cullen said, taking victory where he could. 'Now, come on. Before anyone else turns up and sees you looking like this.'_

_Fenris let Cullen pull him to his feet, let him guide him away from the surgical theatre where they'd saved her life. Let Cullen guide him into the car. He put Fenris's seat belt on for him, fingers trembling, but able to get it done._

_Once Cullen started the engine, he realised he had no clue where they were going. Lee's room would be_ _… full of blood, probably a crime scene and despite the tentative peace between them, Cullen knew he could not take Fenris to his place and it was too far anyway, they needed to be close to the hospital._

_'Josie, can we use your room, please?' he asked her, as she sat up front with him in the front seat._

_'Of course,' she told him with a shaky smile. 'Of course.'_

_*_

_In the little bathroom with harsh yellow lighting above, girly products lining the sink and the base of the shower tray, Cullen stripped Fenris of his clothes. Undressed him like a child. Fenris had gone entirely blank at some point during the ride back to student housing. Cullen tried not to worry too much that his friend seemed to have gone fucking catatonic, that he wasn't really responding to anything beyond simple commands like,_ walk _or_ stop _._

_Lee's room was right next door. Josie had slipped in there after letting them into her room, gone to open the window, so she'd muttered and Cullen didn't know what on earth he'd done to deserve her help, but he was grateful for it. However angry he was at Fenris, he knew Leliana would not want him to be implicated in this._

_He yanked the blood soaked t-shirt off of his friend, the material stiff and thick. Pulled down boxers and told Fenris to step out of them, irritably lifting his feet when Fenris didn't seem to understand. With trembling, bloodied fingers and still aching knuckles from a poorly thrown punch, he ran the shower and waited for it to get hot. He absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair and realised he'd smeared Lee's blood all through it. Nausea hit him like a sucker punch then and he wanted to drop to his knees, clutching his stomach and let it all out, but he didn't._

_He stripped off himself, brittle with anger and terror and anguish, pulled Fenris into the shower with him, closing the door so they didn't flood poor Josie's bathroom._

_Fenris was just_ _… not there._

_Cullen watched him closely, scrubbed his skin with a degree of care because he knew the tattoos still hurt Fenris sometimes, that touching them could bring pain, even rough cotton sheets could hurt him, his skin was so sensitive still. So he was careful, even though he wanted to be abrasive. Wanted to scrub that blood away and hiss things at his friend, let loose some of the hell bubbling within._

_But he just smoothed his hands over Fenris's arms, soapy suds loosening the dried blood and turning the bubbles pink. It came away under the hot spray, it all came away, Shakespeare didn't know shit._

_Leliana's blood was all over Fenris. A great big smudge on his left cheek, in his hair, finger swipes that told a blurry, vivid tale of what had happened in the moments after Fenris had stabbed her._

_Cullen washed it all away, careful and gentle and if he cried silently, the water made it so it didn't matter. He washed himself quickly, but he had hardly anything to remove._

_It was a grim thing._

_When they were both clean, he shut off the water, seeking towels. He bundled Fenris up and carefully let him out, onto a very nice bathmat. He dried him off, top to bottom, dried his hair and his face. Fenris remained unseeing, right up until that point. While Cullen was patting his face dry, taking care once more not to hurt his friend, even though Josie's towels were soft and plush unlike his own, Fenris blinked slowly, unevenly and looked at Cullen then._

_'I'm so sorry,' he whispered._

_Cullen's movements faltered, slowed and stopped. One hand on the side of Fenris's neck, the other behind a velvety towel he was using to dry his friend's mutilated skin. Cullen's eyes screwed up tight, stinging under the onslaught of searing salt, but he didn't let himself cry. Would not. They had to be strong for her as she had been for them a million times before._

_'I know,' he ground out. 'I know you are.'_

_'I was dreaming,' Fenris told him, still not himself, but at least he was looking at Cullen. 'I was dreaming about awful things. I didn't_ _… mean it.'_

_'I know you didn't.'_

_'She's not dead?'_

_'No. She's in recovery now. We can go back in a few hours.'_

_Fenris blinked again, eyelids fluttering slightly. 'I nearly killed her.'_

_Jaw working, Cullen said, 'Yeah, you nearly did.'_

_'I'm dangerous.'_

_'Don't you dare start,' Cullen warned him, putting all the threat into it he could muster. 'You don't get to wallow and want to die, not when she needs us. You make this right first, got it?'_

_Fenris frowned a tiny bit. 'Make this right? I gutted her. I gutted Lee.'_

_'You didn't,' Cullen said, clinging to what sanity remained available just then, standing naked and dripping wet in Josie's minuscule bathroom, Fenris looking up at him the way a dazed child might and the weight of the world felt like it would break him then. He felt it like cruelty, like any happiness he'd ever felt in the past had earned him this as punishment. 'She's in recovery. They stopped the bleeding and they_ _… they worked on her s-spinal cord.'_

_Fenris's numbness fractured slightly and he swayed a little. He said nothing, but Cullen could see reality seeping in and he was glad for it. He couldn't do this while leading around a ghost, needed his friend to be strong right along with him._

_'I nearly killed her,' he repeated._

_'But you_ didn't,' _Cullen pressed, now wrapping the towel around his friend's shoulders. 'You didn't. She's alive and she needs us. She needs us, Fenris. That's all that matters.'_

_Josie knocked on the door, opened it a crack and passed through clean clothes, presumably from Lee's room. 'Taken care of,' she said lightly and Cullen had no choice but to utterly trust her. To trust that she'd done what was necessary. It was all a blur to Cullen then, all he could think of was his friends. Of Lee in recovery, of Fenris barely holding on in front of him._

_'Thank you,' he told her, taking the clothes. 'Thank you so much, Josie.'_

_Softly, she said, 'Not at all,' and then closed the door with a click._

_Cullen dressed Fenris, but his friend was waking up a little more now. He helped where he could, stepping into the jeans, lifting his feet for socks. When Fenris was fully clothed, Cullen shrugged his own PJ's back on, only his coat had blood on it and he wouldn't fit into anything of Fenris's._

_'I'm sorry for what I said,' Fenris told him._

_Cullen was still angry, but there was no use for it, no place in the world. 'It's fine.'_

_'It's not. I shouldn't have even_ _… I'm so sorry.'_

_'She's alive, that's all that matters right now.'_

_'Yeah, OK.' He sounded so trusting, so young. Cullen thought of that six year old boy, tiny and defensive, teased for his hair, for the colour of his skin, for being so small. Fenris had only ever been this way when they'd recovered him from being taken. Memories of that time that trickled back to Fenris in dreams. Dreams that had almost taken Leliana away._

_Fenris looked around while Cullen pulled his boots on over damp, bare feet. 'Where are we?'_

_'Josie's place.'_

_'Do I need to—?'_

_'Josie took care of it. Look,' Cullen added tersely. 'We're going to have to give statements to the police, you understand that right? I need you to wake the fuck up. I need you to lie and lie well, you got it? If Lee wants your arse in jail, then that's her choice, but she spent her breath before they sedated her telling surgeons and anyone who'd listen that_ someone else _attacked her, not you, so for now, we're gonna respect that, right?'_

_Slowly, Fenris sobered. 'Right.'_

_'You're good at all this spy shit, passing lie detectors and stuff so just_ _…' Cullen gestured brusquely. 'Man the fuck up and help me sell this, yeah? I know you're in shock, but I need you. I can't do this without you. She needs us.'_

_That, if nothing else, removed the last of the shock-induced numbness from Fenris's expression. His throat worked and he took a few steadying breaths, deeper than before._

_'All right,' he told Cullen. 'I'm here.'_

_*_

_They gave statements separately and despite the anxiety gnawing in the base of his stomach, Cullen knew that things tracked pretty well. Fenris's phone call, Josie's invaluable help. One thing that had his heart skipping a beat was when the police asked why he'd punched Fenris, citing CCTV from the hospital. Cullen answered miserably and with partial honesty, telling them he'd been angry at his friend for making it about him, saying how he wanted to die if Lee died._

_The other thing was when they told him they'd contacted Lee's_ Mother _._

_He felt cold then, could tell the blood was draining from his face because if there was one thing Lee wouldn't want when she woke up, aside from Fenris in prison, it was her Mother in her life._

_'Is she here?'_

_'We notified her, it's standard. Why? Is that a problem.'_

_Cullen shrugged, trying to remain casual. 'They don't get along.'_

_'Do you have anything to add to this statement?'_

_'No.'_

_'All right then, if we need anything else, we'll be in touch.'_

_*_

_The surgeon from before, Doctor Solas, was true to his word. After several terrible waiting room teas and one horribly dry cheese sandwich that Cullen insisted they share, the surgeon came to find them, clipboard in hand._

_Solas nodded briskly. 'She's doing well.' Cullen put a hand over his heart, could feel the smashing rhythm there. 'Her vitals are very good and she's responsive to stimuli. I am cautiously optimistic that she'll be walking fine in a few weeks.'_

_'That's good,' Cullen said, because he needed to hear it and so did Fenris._

_'Yes, she's fought very hard. Now, while I am pleased with her progress, she will need time to recover fully. Inpatient for at least a week or two and then she'll likely need a great deal of care at home. You are_ _…' Solas checked his clipboard. 'Her brother, yes?'_

_Cullen nodded. 'Yes.'_

_'A detail greatly contested by her Mother when she called us,' Solas pointed out gently and Cullen could feel Fenris stiffen beside him. 'The same Mother who insisted her daughter be released into her care and hers alone, in spectacularly colourful language I might add._ But _,’ he said emphatically. ‘As her brother, I'm letting you know, she'll need a bit of looking after, you understand? Walking will be difficult at first. There was damage to her upper lumbar vertebrae, the L2.' He pointed to his clipboard, standard picture of a spine. 'This could affect her abdomen, appendix and upper legs. Until she's fully awake, we won't know the full extent of this damage, but as I said, she's so far proven an immense will to live. I am optimistic that with proper care and recovery,_ with you _, she'll be fine.'_

_Cullen clung to that word hard. Fine. Lee would be fine._

_'What about the other two wounds?' Fenris asked tightly._

_'They were lesser,' Solas explained. 'The first wound was the worst, as I've said. The knife went all the way through to her spine, nicking her intestines, but the other two were fairly superficial in terms of lasting damage. We have one here,' he flipped over the page showing the outline of a female body. He marked a dot with a pencil on the left side of the ribcage. 'No lung damage, fairly shallow. And here,' he added, dotting somewhere low and on the right. 'Again, avoiding major organs, but only just. It caused a great deal of blood loss, but we were able to stop that with ease.'_

_'When will she be awake?'_

_'Well,' Solas said, tilting his bald head. 'In reality, the longer she sleeps, the better. I'm advising another cycle of sedation, but we'll bring her out of it for reflex tests tomorrow afternoon.'_

_'So, she won't be awake until tomorrow.'_

_'No. You should rest.'_

_Cullen nodded, but he knew they wouldn't be leaving. Showering was one thing. It had been necessary. Statements to the police were necessary._

_But they had no place else to be but there, waiting for her._

_*_

_Bran and Cassie arrived that morning, pale faces, shock etched into every part of them. Bran demanded to know what had happened and Cullen hated lying to him. Josie had turned up an hour or so before with an actual picnic basket of food and thermoses of well made, hot fresh tea._

_Rosalie was in New Zealand, doing everything she could to get home, but it would be a while yet. Bran cried a little as they waited together, not waiting for her to wake, not for news, but simply_ there _, keeping a quiet, shaky vigil in the childish hope that bad things couldn't happen if they were nearby. His Mum and Dad had died while he was at school, laughing and teasing Fenris. Mia had died while they'd walked home, happy and unknowing. He still remembered that walk down the path to the door, slightly open._

_They sat in silence, guardians of the ICU waiting room._

_*_

_'She's awake,' a nurse told them earlier than expected, or maybe later, Cullen wasn't sure. He'd fallen asleep in that God forsaken chair again, one arm around Fenris. They both jerked awake, stumbling gracelessly forward, Bran following suit. Cassie had gone home to be with Danny, but Bran had stayed, had not listened to any bullshit about leaving when it was clear that they themselves would not leave._

_'She is? How is she?'_

_'Seems to be doing well,' the nurse said. 'She's been asking for you. One at a time, though, OK?'_

_Cullen nodded at Fenris. 'Go on.'_

_'Fuck,' Bran exhaled, rubbing his face when Fenris hurried after the nurse. 'I still can't believe this. How much shit does this family need to go through?'_

_Cullen said nothing. Things between he and Bran were not especially great. Bran still thought Cullen had lied about Madeline, had made things up about her. Cullen didn't know how to even go about undoing that, slowly peeling back the tangled layers of lies comingled with truth. Lee, Bran and Rosie had not believed his lies for a second, but Bran had, still did. They hardly ever saw him these days, Cassie sent pictures of Danny but not much else._

_Cullen's phone buzzed. Another call from Madeline. He would answer her soon, once he'd seen Lee._

_'Can't wait to get her out of here,' he muttered and Bran shot him a look._

_'She's coming with us,' his brother said slowly, firmly. 'You realise that?'_

_What?'_

_Bran laughed sourly. 'What, she should come home with you? How will you look after her? You don't even have a spare bedroom and Madeline hates her. Fenris doesn't have a National Insurance number, let alone a place of his own. Rosie drifts around like a leaf in the sodding wind.' His little brother tipped his chin. 'I'm the only one_ capable _of caring for her.'_

_'She's my best friend.'_

_'Yeah? Well she's my big sister. She helped raise me. Taught me about being a good,_ honest _person. I can care for her, me and Cassie can give her what she needs.'_

Unlike you, _hung coldly in the air between them._

_Fenris returned after a few minutes, looking warily between the two. 'Cullen, she wants you.'_

_Cullen wrenched his gaze from Bran, telling himself it didn't matter, that they'd sort it later._

_The nurse led him through a ward that smelled of disinfectant and plastic and vomit. He looked in each room as they passed, looked at the brightly coloured curtains and hated everything about them._

_'Here, now,' the nurse said, stopping in the doorway of a room, fixing Cullen with a stern look. 'No stress, no hugs, understand?'_

_'Got it.'_

_She drew back the curtain and there_ _… God, there she was. Propped up by a mountain of pillows, paler than the sheets, tubes running into the back of her hand, her hair an utter mess, slicked back but there was blood in it, he could tell, no matter how naturally red she was._

_'Cullen,' she whispered, throat scratchy. She extended her hand and smiled weakly. He went to her, taking it gently between his own, kissing her fingers, kissing her cold skin._

_'Lee, fucking hell,' he utterly shakily, couldn't stop it, hovering over her and clutching her hand like she was made of spun glass. 'Are you OK? How are you feeling?'_

_Leliana blinked tiredly. 'I've been better.'_

_When he laughed, he knew he was crying, kissing her hand again and tasted the salt of his tears. 'Can I get you anything? Water or_ _…?'_

_'M fine,' she said and he hated how even talking seemed to tire her, left her breathless. 'Spoke to Fen, he said it's all OK?'_

_Cullen nodded, half sitting on the bed beside her, careful not to disturb her canula. He knew how much they hurt. 'It's all fine, no leads on who did it yet,' he added, undertone of meaning. 'Unless you remember anything?'_

_'Nope,' she said, holding his gaze. 'Nothing.'_

_It wasn't like he was surprised that she wanted to protect Fenris. He would do the exact same thing if he was in her position, but he was pleased she understood the choice was hers to make._

_'You look like shit,' she told him and he laughed again, nervous, terrified relief crashing around behind his heart. 'Couldn't have made a bit of effort for me?'_

_He didn't even bother wiping away his tears, wobbly smile in place when he said, 'I'm not pretty enough for you, eh?'_

_She smiled fondly. 'Beautiful's more like it, but still, could have run a comb through your hair.'_

_'I love you,' he told her, kissing her hand again. It felt important to tell her that, essential. He wanted to tell her every day, on the hour, because_ _… because there had almost been a world without her and Cullen could not understand what that world would look like. 'Love you so much.'_

_'I love you more,' she said quietly. 'They're keeping me in?'_

_'A week at least.'_

_Lee sighed. 'Fuck's sake. I graduate in nine days.'_

_'Not to mention the insane birthday bash we'll be throwing in three weeks,' he added, nodding seriously. 'You'd better start preparing for that, I reckon.'_

_'Oh yeah,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'Can't wait to sit around covered in blankets, drinking tea and listening to you and him bicker about who gets to wash my hair.'_

_'Fenris was always good with hair,' Cullen pointed out, sniffing. 'He'll win for sure.'_

_Her expression sobered somewhat and she pulled him closer, even weak as she was. 'I need you to take care of him,' she uttered. He nodded, ready to promise whatever she needed. 'I know you will anyway, but I can't worry about him. Need to focus on myself for a bit.'_

_'Of course. Have they said anything to you? About what will happen.'_

_'They said,' she answered slowly, breathing slightly laboured. 'I might need more surgery down the road, but they won't know till a few months. For now, it's wait and see. Cullen,' she said, lowering her voice to almost inaudible levels. 'It wasn't his fault. He was_ _… dreaming, crying out, both our names. He fell off the bed and I… I touched his back. It was like he was possessed. Not his fault, OK?'_

_Cullen didn't want to upset her, so he left his own unprocessed anger at the back of his mind and nodded. 'OK, Lee.'_

_She seemed relieved at that, sitting back into the lush pillows once more. 'I sure can pick 'em,' she sighed. 'Why couldn't me and you get together?'_

_He laughed at that, pleased for the shift of subject from serious to silly. 'Because that's gross, you're basically my twin.'_

_'I'm a year older than you and you'd be lucky to have me.'_

_He smiled and kissed her hand again, unable to stop. 'I would be,' he said as they spoke of a life that had never been on the cards because they loved each other too much for such things, no room for anything else between them but sheer, utter love. Cullen would die for her, he would kill for her. His sister, counterpart of his soul, she was his world. She and Fenris framed the entirety of his existence and it shook him right to his core as he sat there, holding her cold hand, knowing he'd come close to losing her. 'But you're high maintenance.'_

_She laughed a little, coughing slightly at the end. 'That I am.'_

_The coughing had drawn the attention of a nurse. 'That's enough, come on ,' she warned sternly. Cullen slid off the bed, carefully took Lee's face in her hands and kissed her forehead, pressing as hard as he dared._

_'Love you.'_

_'And you, silly. Go drink terrible tea and tell stories of my bravery. See you soon.'_

_*_

_Something broke in Rosalie when she arrived at the hospital. Cullen wasn't sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't for her to slap Fenris around the face. People stared, people in the waiting room who had come and gone more than them because they understood the value of rest, they stared uncomfortably, the room so small that there was nowhere else to look._

_She knew, without being told. She just knew. And when she broke down into tears the next moment, she let Fenris hug her. Rosalie was taller than him now, had she been wearing those boots she so loved, she might have been towering over him, but she sobbed into Fenris's shoulder, while Cullen watched with his hands over his mouth._

_To say that Bran was furious to realise he was the last to know, that was an understatement. His realisation came slowly, the knowledge dawning upon him visibly and Cullen dragged him from the increasingly crowded room, into the nearest disabled toilets, locking the door._

_'Look—'_

_'Did he do this?'_

_'Bran, let me explain, I—'_

_'Did he stab her, yes or fucking no?'_

_Cullen exhaled carefully. 'You can't tell anyone.'_

_'Oh my God.'_

_'It was an accident.'_

_'Oh my fucking_ God _!'_

 _'Please,' Cullen pleaded. 'Please keep your voice down, please. She doesn't want him to get into trouble, it was an accident, he was having a nightmare,_ please _!'_

_Bran's eyes were wet, hands clutching at his brown hair, so like Mia's. 'He could have killed her! He nearly did!'_

_'I know, I_ know _that, but please—'_

_'How could you not tell me?'_

_'Bran, I couldn't risk it, not while we were here.'_

_His younger brother's face twisted with disgust and grief. 'I'm never worth telling_ anything _, am I? Always the last to know, the last to hear that you're in rehab, that you had a fucking relapse. Had to be pulled aside by Rosalie and explained to like a five year old that you were lying about lying, that Madeline was treating you like shit and you were so pathetically gaslit that you ended up defending her. All that shit you caused was lies, all the stress and drama, was because of_ you! _This is more of the same, isn't it?'_

_'Please, please don't—'_

_Bran shoved him hard, hands to his chest and his back hit the wall, his brother glaring daggers. 'This family is so fucked up and you, you're right at the centre of everything that's rotten. Don't worry, I won't say anything and I already spoke with Lee. She made it clear she wouldn't come back with me and Cassie, so your little_ triangle _is intact, big brother. But you know what?' he added in a trembling whisper. 'I'm done with you, with everyone. Cassie and Danny are my life and I won't have them touched by this. Won't have them around the danger you brought into our lives, the lies and the fucking drama. That's it,' he said, opening the door. 'I'm_ done _!'_

_*_

_Lee was walking after a week, sheer determination of will more than anything and when she could go to the toilet on her own - a qualifying element that baffled Cullen, but was clearly important to the nurses and doctors - they told her she could go home the next day. She was healing well, no apparent lasting damage beyond the warning of increased aches and pains sometimes._

_After nine days, she signed herself out first thing in the morning and refused a wheelchair out to the car park, stating she felt fine. They made it out of the ward, away from the hospital and all the way into the car park before she leaned heavily into Cullen, letting out a tiny sob._

_'Can't go any further,' she gasped. Cullen and Fenris shared a look and by simple virtue of Cullen being taller, he was the one who carefully scooped her up Princess Style and carried her the rest of the way to the car._

_They'd already collected her things from the room, once it had been processed by the police. The investigation was_ ongoing _but Cullen knew Josie, bless her fucking heart and soul, had done a good job. Gotten rid of Anders’ knife, opened the window carefully, messed things up enough to look suspect._

_Her room was empty and clean, he and Fenris had done that together. Cleaned up the blood, packed her stuff. What a lovely night that had been._

_But she still went back a last time, had a look around to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything and it turned out they had. A tiny, fragile dream catcher hung on the window in the corner. Fenris retrieved it for her while she scolded them both teasingly for such carelessness. She looked at the bed, new mattress and covers, the last place they'd all slept together and then she said, 'Let's go graduate.'_

_*_

_She walked slowly up to the podium to collect her degree, but the noise from Cullen, Fenris and Josie was positively deafening. They cheered and clapped louder than anyone, calling out her name as she took that scroll, all decked out in black cape and mortarboard. Josie took pictures while they stood and applauded, drawing ridiculous amounts of attention to themselves, but it was worth it to see her smile. The process was mercifully quick and after speeches and applause, she was back by their side._

_'I tore a stitch,' she said, leaning into Cullen again, handing Fenris her scroll. 'Can we go now?'_

_'Of course,' he told her, kissing her hair. 'Let's go home.'_

_*_

_Madeline had agreed, weirdly enough, to move out of their place for the month and live nearby with her friend, Alison. She took all her things, even her makeup table and stool. There had been conditions and Cullen agreed to them all blindly, chief among them that the bed was not to be slept in by Leliana. Cullen agreed easily because Lee wanted to sleep in the living room anyway, closer to the bathroom as it was._

_They drove back to what Cullen thought of as his part of London and once inside the reasonably spacious flat, he went about settling Lee in. They had clubbed together, Josie helping a ton, to buy a new sofa. A massive, plush, super comfy thing that extended outward, turned to a bed, should they need it._

_'Tea?' Fenris asked from the kitchen and so their month began._

_*_

_They took care of her in every way they could. She was strong and recovering fast but there was no way to deny how severely she'd been hurt. The first time Cullen helped her into the bath, he saw the scars, angry purple things, barely an inch wide but so much bruising around that middle one, the one that had gone all the way to her spine. Lowering herself into the tub was out of the question, as was risking standing in the shower, so just like they had for Cullen, they helped her bathe._

_Lee did not want Fenris to be the one to wash her hair. She leaned into Cullen more now, asked him to help her more than Fenris. So, it was Cullen who washed her hair, did his best to make a good job of it, while Fenris read aloud text messages from Rosalie, who was sticking around for the month, staying with some friends just outside of London, and had plenty to say about how shite it was_ working _in the UK. It made Lee laugh, to hear about their little sister's antics, working as a barmaid, even though it also made Cullen nervous, knowing how dangerous places like that could truly be._

_Bran had not spoken to anyone, Rosalie included since that day. Cassie had called Cullen and apologised, misery in her tone, and said she wished Lee all the best, added in a whisper that if he needed anything, she would do whatever she could. It hurt, struck deep, but Cullen knew - however wrong it might have been - that there were bigger things to focus on and all of those things circulated around Leliana._

_As the days went on and routine emerged, Cullen began to breathe easier. He slept in the living room with Lee, but Fenris slept upstairs in Cullen's room, on the floor. They didn't discuss it, Cullen knew it wasn't up for discussion but the implication was plain and it made for a worrying future. During the day, Fenris was attentive and sweet, he devoted all his time to her, making her smile, making her happy, comfortable, at ease. He never kissed her and he never touched her face like he used to, but he made it plain how much he loved her._

_Fenris would never place her in harm's way again, not for anything in the world. There would never be a night they shared the same bed, that anyone shared a bed with Fenris and Cullen had known that anyway, had known that since he’d seen Fenris standing there, all covered in her blood, the majority of it on his hands._

_Leliana's Mother made four botched attempts to get in touch with her daughter, for reasons that she refused to clarify, but they all knew it wasn't concern. She couldn’t find her, but that didn’t stop her trying. She kept turning up at the hospital, long after Lee had left, demanding to know her daughter’s address. The hospital called Cullen and told him, warning him that if she did it again, they would call the police._

_The last time she tried, Fenris went down there himself, slinging his coat on and promising Lee that her Mother would never get close. Cullen was making tea when he heard Lee quietly say, ‘Don’t kill her.’_

_At the door, Fenris nodded before he left._

_*_

_Lee turned twenty four on a rainy Wednesday and they spent that day with Rosalie and Josephine, a party for five, Bran's absence glaring, but not enough to dull the shine of taking a moment to celebrate when otherwise, that day might have gone on without her. None of them spoke of it, but Cullen awoke every day, just so fucking grateful that Lee had_ made it _to twenty four._

_It was a month of closeness, of cuddling and endless movies. Of using Josie's Netflix and Cullen making whatever delicious things he could from their increasingly low resources. With none of them working, money did what it always did and dwindled low like a candle at the base of its wick. He saved where he could, but soon he'd have to go out and find yet another job. He barely left the flat in those first two weeks, but after Aiden screaming down the phone at him, he relented and asked Fenris if it was OK to go and do one performance._

_Fenris had sort of_ baulked _and Cullen hated that he didn't want to be alone with Lee, didn't quite trust himself anymore but thankfully Rosalie was there and she sternly told him to get the fuck out, go perform or face her hippie wrath._

_Cullen performed, sang his heart out, dropped the name of his album and channel at the end and he got paid. When he got back, Lee and Rosie were asleep together on the sofa. He pulled a blanket over them and kissed their heads, wandering upstairs._

_Fenris was on the floor, fully dressed, no blanket, just a pillow._

_'The fuck, man?' Cullen whispered tiredly._

_'I'm fine.'_

_'At least get a duvet or something.'_

_'I prefer it this way.'_

_Cullen sighed and sank down against the wall. 'Don't do this.'_

_Fenris's eyes gleamed gently in the dark, street lamps from outside reflected in green depths. 'I'd die before I hurt her again.'_

_'She loves you, you love her.'_

_'It can't be that way.'_

_'At least talk to her about it.'_

_'I will, of course I will, but I nearly cut her in half,' he whispered, plain and factual. 'I will never again place her in that position of risk. That's all there is to it.'_

_Cullen knew when he was beaten._

_*_

_Madeline saw him a few times a week, meeting up for coffees and the occasional lunch. It was stilted and flat, awkward kisses hello and goodbye. Cullen knew how much she detested being made to live elsewhere, but they were_ trying _so she had to play nice and even Madeline, even she was not bitch enough to be cruel when someone had been stabbed._

 _Once, in early November, she took him back to her friend's house and they had sex. It was weird, methodical and Cullen didn't like it, even though she was clearly_ making effort _for his sake. It was all too quiet, awkward noises filling the air, neither looking at each other, skin slapping, no kissing. Perfunctory, awful sex but nowhere near the worst sex Cullen had ever had, not by a long shot._

_Afterwards, they got dressed._

_'You're seeing other people,' he said quietly, buttoning up his shirt._

_She didn't answer._

_He left in silence, only wiping his eyes when he got inside the car._

_*_

_Lee was walking pretty independently by the time Fenris told her what she seemed to already know, but would simply not accept._

_He told her the same things he'd told Cullen._

_'Nothing is worth putting you at risk again. You're everything to me, I'd die before I hurt you.'_

_And Lee wasn't having it._

_'A one-time thing, a single mistake!'_

_'I stabbed you, Lee, three fucking times, don't call it a mistake and make out like—'_

_'And I forgave you for it, does that mean nothing?'_

_'It means_ everything _to me, all the more reason to protect you in the future!'_

_Cullen didn't ask if they wanted him to leave, they'd have told him if they did, so he sat there on the floor, back to the sofa while they argued, Lee from the sofa, Fenris from the armchair._

_'Don't reduce me to some whimpering little girl, needing a man to protect her, you absolute arse! It was a mistake, if anything, it's_ Anders' _fault for giving you that fucking thing in the first place.'_

_'I have other knives, it's hardly the first.'_

_She scoffed. 'It's the one you carried about out of_ sentimentality _.'_

_'You told me to be with him, to try new things—'_

_'Not to keep his fucking knife in your boot, you prick!'_

_Cullen closed his eyes, wishing they_ had _asked him to leave._

_Pained silence from both sides stung the air until Fenris said, quiet and immovable, 'It will never happen again because this can't happen again, do you understand?'_

_'You love me.'_

_'I do.'_

_'You're in love with me.'_

_'I am.'_

_'Then stop this attention seeking bullshit!'_

_'I'm not falling for this, Lee.'_

_'Falling for what? My outrage at being stabbed and then weeks later, unceremoniously dumped?'_

_'Nothing is worth your life.'_

_'You're just a coward. What danger could you pose if there's no knife around? You're not—'_

_'I could kill you with my bare hands,' Fenris cut over her swiftly. 'And we all know it. I trained for years to become the strongest, the fastest. Made it so no one could ever hurt me or the people I loved, but in the process all I did was sharpen myself in to a fucking weapon. I can't control it when I sleep. Sometimes_ _… bits and pieces come back and I can't_ control _myself, do you understand? I could never, ever live with myself if I hurt you again. Please respect that.'_

_There were several long, agonising beats before she replied and Cullen knew it was going to be bad._

_'Then go,' she told him, voice shaking with barely controlled anger. 'You don't trust yourself? Go. Be elsewhere! Go back around the world with your_ friend _. Go and be sharp, go sleep with Anders because he could defend himself if you had a_ bad dream _after fucking him, you pussy!'_

_Fenris left and later, Cullen held her while she cried, the familiarity of it all too much to bear._

_*_

_Fenris checked in, Cullen saw him most days. He stayed here and there, hotel some nights, sleeping in Cullen's car at other times. Leliana's anger remained fractious, coupled with her remaining inability to be her usual Go Getter self. She still needed a little help from Cullen and her lower back ached constantly. He massaged it for her, but it rarely helped. Her scars healed over the weeks, soon she could take a bath almost entirely alone, only needing help to get out and Rosalie was there for a lot of those times._

_The distance between Cullen and Madeline increased every day that they lived apart. Cullen performed two or three times a week and made just enough money to pay rent but things were dire._

_The tentative stability fell magnificently apart the day that Cullen's landlord let himself into the flat, brows vanishing into his hairline to see him there with Lee._

_'Oh,' he said. 'You_ _… uh, you not left yet?'_

_It took Cullen a good five seconds to muster up a, 'Huh?'_

_*_

_'How could you do that, Madeline? It's not your decision, the place was rented in my name!'_

'I thought I was agreeing on your behalf to _renew_ the tenancy!' _she insisted down the phone, but he knew she was lying. '_ Christ, have a go at me for trying to help.'

 _Cullen covered his face with one hand. His landlord was lurking awkwardly behind him. 'Madeline, you did this a month ago. We were in the fucking_ hospital _. How could you do this? Just tell me that?'_

'Oh, you know what?' _she sneered._ 'Think what you want!'

_The line went dead and Cullen wanted to scream._

_*_

_He might have been embarrassed, calling Josie and pleading for somewhere to stay for a few days, but any chance of that fizzled immediately when he explained, regret etched deep in her lovely accent, that she was visiting her family in the middle east and currently had no residence in the UK. She swore faithfully to send him money for a hotel but Cullen was in such a mania by that point, he heard himself cheerfully refuse and then hung up._

_'That good, yeah?' Lee sighed._

_'What about Fenris? Maybe he could—'_

_'No,' she snapped and that was that._

_'I've got some money for a cheap hotel,' Rosalie offered. 'Couple of nights, but better than nothing.'_

_*_

_The landlord had other people to move in, but he agreed to give Cullen a week to pick up his furniture so long as he didn't mind him painting around it. Cullen agreed, had no choice._

_He_ could _have gone to Bran, could have begged but that hurt his heart too much to even consider._

 _They slept in a tiny hotel room, though_ slept _was a generous term. Cullen spent all night looking for work on his phone and then the next morning, he called every site in London, begging for a job. A couple said he could start next week but that it would be a month in hand. A whole month. Fuck._

 _Fenris came to the hotel, offering to_ get money _but Leliana wasn't having any of it. She threw a whole bag of shoes at him._

_He went to Aiden, begged for an advance, for any extra money, anything. Aiden was a brick wall and just about as sympathetic._

_Cullen didn't know what to do. He cried that night, the pair sitting on too-stiff twin beds, TV on in the background._

_'It'll be OK,' Lee promised him, but it didn't touch his worries, his utter feeling of failure. Bran was right, he was so fucking right._

_*_

_In the end, it was Isabela who helped them. She had a decent sized place and offered them her spare bedroom for a week or so. She made all kinds of jokes about not outstaying their welcome and ties on the door, but Cullen could tell she was fine with it, saw kindness in her golden eyes._

_The situation had turned dire and Cullen knew it was his own fault, had not kept an eye on the smaller things, the little details that turned slow and insidious, turned all the way around like screws. Everything fell to pieces because of the little things._

_Lee was miserable and she was angry. Cullen's own anger towards Fenris remained, he hadn't had the chance to speak about it properly, but that was hardly important. Fenris came by sometimes, greeted Isabela with a warm smile and if he offered Cullen money in private, Cullen could take it but if Lee saw it, she would scathingly refuse, sometimes throwing the meagre notes and even coins back at him._

_*_

_On a day when Cullen's car sat broke down and useless, unable to afford the money for repairs this time so he couldn’t even take Lee to her check-up, someone knocked on the door of Isabela's flat._

_Isabela herself was out most of the day, off_ hustling _as she lovingly called it when really, she did all kinds of odd jobs on the side._

 _Cullen opened the door, fully expecting another_ LoveHoney _parcel for Isabela when instead, there stood a man wearing a beautifully pressed suit and tie, briefcase in one hand, slip of paper in the other._

_Cullen had been cleaning, hadn’t wanted to mess up his jeans so he was wearing just about the scruffiest shorts he owned with a pair of Isabella's knee high fluffy socks because the flat got cold and they both felt too guilty to run the heating while she was out._

_'Uh, hi?'_

_The man gave Cullen a slow up and down, eyebrow quirking._

_'Ah, yes. 'Allo,' he greeted, accent heavily French. 'I am looking for Leliana Mordante?'_

_Cullen half glared, suspicious and wary. ‘Who’s asking?’_

_It was a turning point, a keystone moment when that man looked behind Cullen at Lee and said, 'You are 'zee spitting image of your Papa.'_

_*_

_It took weeks for the money to come in. Probate was a hellish thing, or so they were told. The man put them up in a swanky hotel, the kind with a big tub, free room service and TV that got more than four and a half channels. He paid for premium healthcare for Lee, had people come and check up on her. Offered laser scar removal, all manner of physiotherapy and Lee refused, refused all of it because they couldn't_ afford _that except the man just laughed and told her, yes she could._

_He wanted her to sign things. Giving up any claim to title, to ever coming forward and seeking a place within the French monarchy. With the money, a number that Cullen couldn't even process mentally, came a chunk of land on an island they'd never heard of._

_'French territory, beautiful little place on the sea. It's fenced off, protected land. You own it, as of now.'_

_They were in shock for weeks. Cullen didn't quite trust it and neither did Lee. They stole from the bathrooms, ordered extra room service and kept it in boxes in case the bubble burst. Lee even let Fenris come round, let him sit there while Cullen filled him in._

_Fenris didn't seem especially surprised. 'Always knew you were royalty,' he said, entirely straight faced._

_It wasn't_ real _right up until the money went in that bank account they all shared, the one that was in Lee's name because she was the first to get a bank account, smart girl. They stared at it, at all the little zeroes after that nine._

_*_

_They started small. They had agreed that no matter what else, they couldn't blow it all, couldn't risk someone coming and saying,_ oh sorry, all a big mistake!

_Lee withdrew money, five hundred a day and put it aside, squirrelled it away as they waited to see if anyone would come and try to take it back, but no one did._

_After a week, they started to think that maybe it was real._

_*_

_'I see, so this is your first property application?' a highly snotty blonde estate agent named Lucy said as Cullen and Lee sat at her desk. 'Occupation?'_

_Lee shrugged. 'I don't work.'_

_Lucy narrowed her eyes. 'Riiight, OK. You're a graduate?'_

_'Yes, philosophy and finances.'_

_Lucy snorted. 'OK. Well, without a paying job from yourself or your boyfriend—'_

_'Friend,' Cullen corrected._

_'_ Friend _,' Lucy allowed with a saccharine smile. 'Then you have essentially no hope of getting a mortgage, I'm afraid.'_

_'Oh, I see,' Leliana said, tapping the desk. 'This agency does not accept cash payments then?'_

_Lucy froze. 'S-sorry?'_

_'Cash payments for property, I thought you might have been able to help us, but I see I was mistaken.' She got to her feet, Cullen doing the same while he bit down a smile and Lucy babbled. 'Perhaps we should take our nine million elsewhere, Cullen. That little place across the street with the Comic Sans font, I like the look of that one, don't you?'_

_Cullen nodded happily, letting her have the moment untouched._

_'I-I really am sorry, I didn't quite understand before,' Lucy was saying, following them out. 'But if you'd like to take a seat, we have many properties that I think you'd—'_

_'No, I think we're all set thanks,_ Lucy _,' Lee said, as Cullen held the door open for her. She cast her gaze around the office, lofty and unwavering. 'Perhaps the next time that people come in who are dressed like we are, who've worked every hour under the sun just to scrape by, people who want a chance, maybe you'll offer them solutions instead of laughing at their aspirations.'_

_*_

_'It's not my money,' Cullen kept saying and Lee just would not have it._

_'If_ you _came into nine million, are you seriously telling me you'd hoard it away from me? From Fenris, Rosalie and even Bran?'_

_'No, obviously not, but—'_

_'Glad you agree it's obvious, now please shut the fuck up and help me chose furniture. You're making this far less fun than it should be.'_

_*_

_'How can you afford this place?' Madeline asked, looking up at the building where he'd been living with Leliana._

_'Uh,' he said, pausing to think. 'Took out a loan.'_

_'Oh, right,' she said, clearly not convinced but otherwise not caring enough to argue. 'So. You still mad at me?'_

_'You ended the tenancy, Madeline.'_

_'Accidentally.'_

_'Come on, there's no way that happened.'_

_'It did, what do you want me to say?'_

_'The truth.'_

_'Look, I just,' she sighed. 'I really missed you. Now things are stable again, now she's all set up in there, maybe we could_ _… sort things out, what do you think?'_

_He thought of that awful last time, of how she'd had Lee sleeping on an uncomfortable hotel bed, begging Isabela for help._

_'I don't know.'_

_She pouted a little. 'I really_ did _miss you. Let me take you out. Please?'_

_*_

_'I can't believe you're back with her,' Fenris sighed, shaking his head as Cullen boarded the first flight of his entire life, nerves doing mental things, making him sweat and hyperventilate almost. 'After what she did, she's a fucking bitch.'_

_'Hmm, people who treat others like shit often get second chances,' Lee mused tepidly as she stowed her bag and Cullen tried to copy her, Fenris helping him. 'And Madeline is more a cunt than a bitch.'_

_A few people on the plane tutted loudly and made shocked gasps, but Lee didn't seem to care. She took her seat, right next to the window and Cullen sat beside her, Fenris in the aisle._

_He felt sick. Why was this so scary? Oh God, what if they fell out of the sky? Metal wasn't_ meant _to go careening like this, was it? Christ._

_'You OK?' Fenris asked, low and soothing and Cullen bit his lips into his mouth, trying to smile._

_The plane took off and Cullen screwed his eyes tight shut, terrified beyond measure._

_*_

_'I hate planes,' he declared miserably when they touched down. Even in December, it was somewhat balmy on the island of Corsica, though the skies were deeply grey._

_'You hate flying,' Fenris corrected. 'And it's your first time, maybe you'll like it more in the future.'_

_Cullen groused, wanting tea but saddling up for the adventure they were embarking on, off to see the little piece of land that had been given to Leliana._

_Fenris, who was apparently well versed in driving abroad, hired a small car and drive them there, Cullen doing a crap job of navigating._

_'This can't be it,' Fenris kept saying when they came to a massive set of gates. 'It says wildlife reserve, for Christ's sake!'_

_'I'm telling you, this is it!' Cullen argued, jabbing the map while Leliana got out of the car. It was lightly raining, skies dark and heavy with more to come. She walked up to a small box on the side of the gate, old heavy thing, but there was a keypad. She took a piece of crumpled paper and typed in the number._

_The massive gates creaked loudly, began to open._

_'This is it.'_

_*_

_'Who the fuck,' Cullen repeated for the tenth time. 'Called this little?'_

_It was a vast stretch of woodland, spanning almost five miles and it included a chunk of beach, cordoned off. Christ, it included a no fly zone. On a small hill overlooking the ocean, they stood, astonished._

_'I can't believe this is ours,' Lee said softly, watching the rain fall over the oceans while Fenris held an umbrella over her, the only one they had._

_'Yours,' he pointed out._

_She shook her head. '_ Ours _.'_

_Cullen nudged him; a subtle warning not to push her. That she let Fenris hang around with them was a big deal and some days she couldn't even do that._

_She stepped out from the umbrella, headed towards the ocean._

_'Come on,' she said, pulling off her top._

_They swam together in the rain, beneath grey, cloudy skies but it was warm. Cullen's experience with the sea extended only to Margate and that had been bitingly cold. This was different. The surface of the ocean was decorated with rain drops, the water warm and grey and welcoming. Cullen had visions of sharks coming to snatch them, but it was difficult to feel anything other than happy when Leliana climbed onto his back. She kissed his cheek, reared up, arms wide, head thrown back and screamed at the freshly thunderous skies above._

_*_

_When they got out, the rain began to ebb and Leliana sat atop the hill, Fenris and Cullen on either side of her, all sharing Cullen’s jacket. 'Sing me something happy,' she whispered to him._

_*_

_Christmas came and went, so many presents for those who were there and so, so many sent to Bran's house for baby Danny. Rosalie spent the whole Christmas with them, but left two days after and Cullen could tell she was aching to get back out there, to the world that called her name. She'd stayed in one place too long and he knew it, did not begrudge her._

_It was on New Year's Eve when Lee poured herself a glass of champagne and looked out of the window at the streets of London that Cullen sensed she was thinking of something._

_'What?' he asked her, looking up from his black book, same one from rehab._

_'You should fire Aiden,' she said, sipping the drink. Fenris, who was reading in a chair furthest away, glanced over._

_'Yeah, I know,' Cullen agreed. 'I need to look around, figure out someone better this time.'_

_'Hmm,' she said, inclining her head slightly. 'What if I did it?'_

_Cullen blinked. 'You?'_

_'Yes. Why don't I be your manager?' She looked away from the window, a kind of energy about her. 'I know you better than almost anyone.'_

_The_ almost _nodded, closing his book._

_'I know your music, your talent, your potential. I know what you want and what you don't. You can be big, Cullen. We all know it. I've seen how crowds respond to you. Aiden will never take you there. I think I can.'_

_Cullen was already sold._

_*_

_Lee being Lee did not do anything by halves. She started a three month managerial course, learning the ins and out of talent management and during that time, she made contacts, she met with people. She was amazingly good with people. Between her and Josie, they would go on to collect a staggering amount of_ useful people _in the business._

_Aiden had taken the news of being let go about as well as Cullen had expected. He refused to relinquish the intellectual properties to the three songs he'd swindled from Cullen, but Cullen didn't care. He let him keep them, wished him well even as Aiden slammed the door after him,_

_Leliana asserted herself as his manager, still learning most of it on the go. She met with the club reps, with the talent bookers. She met with the people from the labels, producers, studio executives and other artists. She immersed herself in the world of things Cullen didn't understand and she brought back only what he needed to know._

_She began to dress differently. Sharp, cutting edge of fashion and she hired an assistant, adorably sarcastic girl named Francesca "Check" Harding. She took absolutely zero of Lee's attitude and anticipated all her needs with confidence._

_Cullen watched with amazement as his life came together in early January, like someone building a stage production all around him. Walls being raised, props lighting up. Fenris remained by his side for most of it, silent sentinel whose place there was granted only by the grace of Lee's continued good mood because things between them were bad, would be a whole lot worse if Lee didn't have this to focus on. It was amazing, really, how much money changed things. Made everything easier. Less worry. Less stress._

_Things were going really,_ really _well, when Madeline texted Cullen two words._

_*_

**-Part Four-**

_'You're pregnant?'_

_She didn't seem so agitated this time, quite so shocked. There was an air of resignation about her when she nodded. They were sat in his car, late February rain pouring thickly all around them. She didn't look like herself, not really. She wore a baggy fleece and leggings, face pale and a little blotchy. Her hair was in a messy bun._

_Cullen tried to speak normally, afraid of overdoing it like he always did._

_'Are you_ _… is it mine?'_

_Slowly, Madeline shook her head. He'd guessed as much, statistics not offering him a lot in the way of foolish hope, but still. It hurt._

_'You sure?' he couldn't help but ask. 'There was that one time, back in October—'_

_'The dates don't match,' she explained quietly with a hint of finality._

_He sighed sadly, likely knowing what was coming next. Another trip to the clinic, at least this time he could take minimal comfort that it wasn't_ his _._

_'I'm keeping it.'_

_He looked at her quickly. 'What?'_

_'I decided to keep it.'_

_'That—that's great, but_ _… um, why?'_

_Madeline was one of the last people who should have had a child. Even at her best she was selfish and pretty lazy, though Cullen didn't like to think poorly of anyone, let alone someone he sort of still loved. At worst, well. Best left alone, those thoughts._

_'I don't know,' she said. 'Thought maybe we could_ _…'_

_'Could what?'_

_'Maybe we could raise it together.'_

_It was a dangerous thing, to get his hopes up about anything that Madeline said. He'd learnt time and again the hard way about things like this. Madeline had a tendency to say something and either forget or withdraw the promise entirely, citing Cullen's lack of worthiness as the reason._

_But this_ _… oh God, something inside of him_ longed for it.

_For a baby, a child, a little girl or boy. Son or daughter. Someone to spoil, to hold and cradle, protect and love, to love so much, he wanted it desperately and she likely knew that._

_'Do you_ want _to raise a baby with me?' he asked her, trying to guard his excitement, knowing full well he was failing._

_It took her a long time to answer but eventually, she exhaled._

_'You’ll_ _be a good Dad. I know you'll love it like your own even if it's not.'_

_'I will,' he promised earnestly. 'I will, and I'll take care of you, I swear it.'_

_'Let's think about it first, yeah?' she said carefully, not quite meeting his gaze. 'It's a big decision. I'm living with my cousin still before she moves to Manchester. She's been good to me, so I can stay there a few more weeks. Let's think it through.'_

_'OK, yeah, that's-that's perfect, really smart. Whatever you need. Madeline, thank you,' he told her, daring to take her hand. 'Thank you for telling me, for even thinking of me. Whatever you decide, I'll help you however I can.'_

_*_

_'Oh, you fucking wanker!'_

_Cullen groaned and rubbed his temples. 'Guys, please, I've already got a—'_

_'How can you be_ this _stupid, really?' Fenris demanded, not wholly judgemental, but at least sorely disappointed in Cullen. 'She's_ smart _, I've told you this before, she must know about the money!'_

_'I really don't think that's it. She didn't ask me for anything and when I dropped her off, I did offer. She refused. Plus, she looked awful.'_

_'How do we even know she's really pregnant?' Josie asked shrewdly, currently going through headshots of Cullen with Lee. 'She's done this to you before, no?'_

_'She was lying before.'_

_Leliana rolled her eyes. 'Sweetie, your naivety is bottomless. You have no proof,_ she _has no proof.'_

_'Then why did she say to think about it?'_

_Fenris scoffed ungenerously. 'So you'll stew and get desperate, like you always do.'_

_'Don't be unkind,' Josie admonished._

_'I'm not,' Fenris pointed out, tuning Cullen's guitar. 'I just_ _… fucking hell, Cullen, why can't you let her go? There are other people out there for you,_ better _people!'_

_Cullen gave a moody shrug. 'What if there isn't?'_

_'Then we'll have a foursome,' Josie suggested with a roguish grin. 'That'll cheer you up.'_

_Cullen mock-vomited. 'No offence, Josie.'_

_'Uh, I happen to take full offence,' Lee said with a frown. 'I, for one, am ravishing.'_

_'And I have a certain bad boy charm,' Fenris joined in, the pair of them plainly fucking with him and even though it was gross, to imagine sex with his friends, he was happy they were teasing him jointly. They failed to get along so much lately. A cold, brittle air between them, powdered glass that was once love._

_They were almost civil. When addressing each other, it was undeniably hostile and the gap between them, the chance of them ever_ sorting it _just seemed to widen with each passing day. Cullen understood both sides. Knew how much it tormented Fenris what he'd done to her, what he had_ almost _done to her and the thought of repeating it would be nothing less than unbearable but he also saw it from Leliana's perspective. His friend had been stabbed three times, had spent a month in hellish limbo of recovery during which time she'd been told that they couldn't be together anymore._

_It was complex, like trying to piece together a broken mirror and Cullen considered himself lucky they were even on speaking terms._

_'Hmm,' Lee said, ice cold. 'Do you? I never noticed.'_

_Fenris sighed but did not antagonise her further._

_While Cullen and Lee lived together, Fenris did not. Once they'd come to terms with the fact that the money was_ theirs, _he got himself a small one bed flat nearby. Paid outright for it. Cullen went there sometimes. It was very small, but it was well cared for. Fenris had always been meticulously neat, left over habit from the care homes, Cullen supposed. He lived a small, contained life away from them, nothing lavish about it, not like the way Lee was starting to enjoy._

 _She was smart as a whip, always had been, but with a degree in finance and plenty of useful_ contacts _, she was putting the money into investments and stocks. Cullen did not understand how just putting money somewhere could make more money. If so, why didn't everyone do that? But it did seem to be yielding results._

_Her happiness was his so if she bought expensive perfume, makeup, clothes and high heels, that was wonderful. He enjoyed shopping with her, loved seeing her get excited about something and not have to look at the price tag. He often got excited along with her, trying to normalise it because she'd lived her whole fucking life on a shoestring and it was time she enjoyed this money a bit, God damn it._

_'So,' Lee said, looking up from the photos of Cullen, which he himself couldn't bear to look at. 'I had an excellent meeting with a producer today. We're on the verge of negotiating a potential contract.'_

_Cullen nodded, didn't need to ask about that because he trusted her implicitly._

_'I showed him a couple of songs from YouTube, he already knows you from the album a little but he's going to want to see you perform in person. Tomorrow?'_

_'Sounds great.'_

_*_

_He named the second album Black Books and it featured a heavily contested song, one he argued back and forth with Lee that he didn't want on the album because it was too personal._

_She argued that it was an incredible song and people needed to hear it, that they would resonate with it._

_Cullen argued that it was just too raw, that Madeline would hear it and know it was about what she’d done to him._

_Lee won in the end, as always. Cullen knew she was right, everyone told him it was a great song, even Isabel, despite not liking his particular_ brand _of music, but it made him uneasy, putting it out there._

_*_

_In April, Madeline agreed to let him raise the baby with her and Cullen could not contain himself. When she asked if he wanted to live with her, she was already showing which Cullen found insanely attractive. He agreed, wanted to be there for every step of the pregnancy._

_He never told her about the money because it still felt a little bit like_ Lee's _money and an uncomfortable part of him knew if he told her, she would demand vast quantities of it._

_They got a decent sized place close to the best hospital and Cullen balanced taking care of her and working on the album. She didn't ask if he was working on the site, but he could tell she assumed that was where the money came from. She was, at best, disinterested in his life._

_If he didn't know better - and he_ did _because he was a good person who would never think something so horrible - he might have thought she was only using him as someone to take care of the baby._

 _She seemed huge by May and his mental gymnastics weren't up to much, but he did wonder sometimes if she was lying about the dates. He felt confident it wasn't_ his _, knew she had been with other men fairly consistently throughout their relationship and he knew the one time she had been pregnant with his child, she'd wanted it gone, but still._

_She told him the due date was October, but she was big as it was and he'd spent hours looking at the scan photos, confident it wasn't twins._

_Madeline slept for most of the day. He would sometimes come home at three and find her still in bed, but he never complained, let her rest. Pregnancy was gruelling, or so he'd read._

_His friends consistently gave him shit about the whole thing, but it lessened over time. They were coming to terms with it which made him more at ease. Maybe they would never get along with Madeline but for the sake of the baby,_ his _baby no matter what blood or biology said, they could be civil._

_The album came together well. He was shocked by how streamlined the process was with Lee at the helm. He had a full backing band this time. The producer was helpful and intuitive, making suggestions that Cullen liked. He turned some of his sadder, slower songs into something faster, something more theatrical and Cullen was surprised to learn it took nothing away from the song to make it bigger, that the core of emotion stayed the same._

_Sometimes when he doodled in his book, he found himself writing,_ Remember why you started _over and over, different fonts, different styles. The words affected him, had stayed inside him from all those years ago. He couldn’t say for sure why, but sometimes he took strength from them._

_*_

_The album dropped in June and it did well. He performed live versions of his songs on YouTube, at clubs and even once, an_ arena _._

_That first time on a big stage, all those seats_ _… it was staggering. He opened for a girl band who were taking the UK by storm and when they shook his hand, two of them giggled, winking._

_It was a big deal. Things were happening, even though he didn't let himself focus on it too much. Lee started talking about things like_ security _. About letters from fans._

 _Cullen had laughed at that one._ Fans _. What the fuck?_

_But she showed them to him over lunch when he cooked for the three of them, Josie doing her thing in the background. He read them and it felt so impossibly weird._

_To have someone hear his stuff, interpret it their own way, like it enough to write to him. Crazy._

_Kind of addictive._

_He started writing back and at Josie's utter, unflinching insistence, he sent back autographed pictures too, even though it made him cringe._

_The conversation about security turned very real one day after a performance when someone from the admittedly rather wasted audience tried to grab him on the way out, lunged at him with their full weight. Fenris shoved the guy back, removed him like it was easy and he cleared a path for Cullen then, to the car._

_While they drove, Lee said to Fenris, 'I'll make it official. Next time, wear a suit.'_

_*_

_Madeline's waters broke in July and Cullen panicked because surely this was too early, premature babies were susceptible to all manner of problems, but he drove her to the hospital, stayed with her while she gave birth. He held her hand, kissed her forehead even as she screamed at him, shoved him uselessly and no matter how many times she asked the nurses for an epidural or stronger pain relief than gas and air, they all told her she was too far into the process and that the baby was coming right now._

_The whole thing was shockingly_ fast _. Cullen watched his daughter be born, saw her come out and it changed him in an instant. Something inside of him was just_ _… different._

_He stared, jaw slack, heart beating to the rhythm of a brand new song as they wrapped the baby, a little girl with dark brown tufts of hair just like Madeline, and then placed her on Madeline's chest._

_'It's a girl,' he whispered to her, kissing that tiny, wrinkled forehead as the baby wriggled, eyes screwed tight shut._

_Madeline nodded and tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage._

_*_

_The first two weeks were a blur. A sleep deprived, stressful, fucking_ wonderful _blur. Cullen stayed up most nights with Sophia. Madeline was understandably exhausted from her days with the baby and he didn't mind, even if Sophia cried for Madeline a lot. He learnt how to make the bottles, how to mix the formula. Madeline breastfed her sometimes, but she wasn't fond of it and Cullen didn't mind feeding her, that was probably his favourite thing to do. He stayed up for hours and hours, until Madeline woke up. He knew it wasn't a good thing, not a healthy thing but he just couldn't get enough of her._

_Holding her, smelling the top of her fluffy head, giving her gentle baths, burping her, changing her. It was always something new and even though he was tired and his back ached and he himself wanted to cry sometimes, he always managed to have a nap at Lee's during the day, so it was fine._

_Lee and Fenris, despite their reservations, simply adored the baby and Cullen couldn't blame them. She was delightful, completely and utterly. They would walk her around in the pram Fenris bought, big expensive thing that self-folded, and the three of them just constantly talked to her in a weird baby voice._

_Fenris was the best at soothing her. He had a very clever way of burping her, called it tiger in a tree and she seemed to love it._

_Those first few weeks were bearable because of his friends and he hoped he was doing enough to make it better for Madeline. She never seemed to want to hold her, she never cared that he took her out, even though she must have known it was to go to Lee's place. One time when he slipped up and said how Lee had brought her a pretty dress, he expected her to flip out, but instead she seemed almost pleased._

_*_

_He came back from the studio with eight bags of shopping, three of them filled with ridiculous baby things that Sophia likely wouldn't even be able to see, let alone play with yet and he found the flat dead quiet._

_'Madeline?' he called out softly, not wanting to wake the baby if she was asleep. Madeline wasn't in front of the TV or in the bath or_ _… anywhere. He searched everywhere, top to bottom, irrationally terrified she’d had a post labour bleed or something and collapsed, but no._

_She was gone._

_Her clothes were gone. Makeup. Shoes. Suitcases and her coat. All gone._

_He was on the verge of a heart attack when he checked the crib and found Sophia inside sleeping quietly as she so often did during the day. Had Madeline_ _… left her alone in the house?_

_Cullen pressed a kiss to her little head, tears in his eyes. He then called Fenris and Lee before calling Madeline. It went right to voicemail and he tried to stay calm, tried not to let his voice wobble._

_'Hey, just me,' he said, smiling even as his eyes stung with tears. 'Uh, just wondering where you are and if you're OK. Give me a call back.'_

_He left message after message, each one becoming slightly more desperate and he might not have stopped had Lee not arrived._

_'What?' she asked, rushing inside. 'What's—what's happened?'_

_Cullen hung up the phone as Sophia began to softly cry from upstairs. Hands in his hair, he said, 'Madeline's gone.'_

_*_

_They stayed the night with him in the flat. Fenris slept downstairs on the sofa and Lee slept in the king size bed with Cullen, Sophia between them in her_ Snugglepod _. It was weird how she slept for longer than usual that night. Cullen kept checking she was breathing, that he hadn't rolled over and squashed her, but she was safe between the two of them in the weird little cushiony boat thing. When she stirred, Fenris came up with a bottle at the perfect temperature and Leliana fed her, while Cullen checked his phone for the millionth time, called Madeline again but it didn't even connect anymore. Christ._

_Between the three of them, they got Sophia back to sleep, even if she did wake at least once every hour, it was only a brief little snuffle. Cullen rested his hand on her belly and she drew in a sad, shaky little sigh before she relaxed and drifted back off._

_He didn't sleep a wink the whole night, kept expecting Madeline back at any moment, a phone call, a text even but nothing came._

_He was relieved to see the sun rise. Got up and had a quick shower, changed and made tea for the others. Fenris had spent the night calling in a couple of favours to track Madeline's phone._

_'She's in Manchester,' he told Cullen. 'That's where her phone was last, anyway.'_

_'Her cousin lives there.'_

_Fenris nodded. 'Maybe she wanted a break.'_

_'She wouldn't leave Sophia like this.'_

_'Do you really believe that?'_

_Cullen didn't want to search himself too much, knew he wouldn't like what he found._

_*_

_The first day was a jumble of change bags, of preparing formula, of gentle, high voices and Josie arriving with a shit ton of car seats, one for each of them._

_'We can do this, can't we?' Cullen said to Sophia, kissing her warm, silky cheek as he walked her around the room, bouncing slightly._

_While he and Lee had a meeting in the studio, Fenris walked her around for a bit in that new, one push all electronic pram that he was extremely impressed with. It had lights and everything. When that was done, they went to speak with the record producers._

_'The album is doing really well, holding solidly and growing in areas we didn't expect. You’re big with the LGBTQ, did you know that?’_

_'I_ _… did not,' Cullen said with an easy smile, even if his words were awkward. 'But that's great. I'm bisexual, so that's awesome.'_

_'So, what we'd like to see more of from you, Cullen,' the shorter one said, leaning back in the swivel chair, fingertips pressed together like a steeple. 'Is press.'_

_'Definitely,' the other agreed._

_Cullen's phone buzzed on silent and he checked it, even as Lee glared. It was Fenris._

**_Gone in McDonald's for changing rooms. V excited. Want anything to eat?_ **

_Cullen grinned, rolled his eyes and then hurriedly got back to the meeting._

_'Right, press. OK, we can do that.'_

_'We have several events coming up,' Lee added, effortlessly bolstering Cullen as and when was necessary. 'But as per his image and style, we do tend to favour a more mysterious relationship with the press. Quality over quantity.'_

_'That's fine, we respect that, but we do need to see his name in the papers more, even if it's just for_ being _a media recluse. More chatter. We'd like to get you trending in the top five this week, yeah?'_

_Lee's smile was blinding. 'Definitely.'_

_Outside, she smacked him upside the head. 'You don't check your phone when talking with producers!'_

_'Ow, bloody hell! It was Fenris!'_

_Fenris, who stood across the street outside McDonalds, pushing the pram back and forth while he happily ate a McFlurry._

_'Mmmhey!' he greeted. 'Got you one each. How'd it go?'_

_'Fine,' Lee said, ignoring her ice cream treat while Cullen grabbed his, starving. He sat beside Fenris and peered into the pram._

_'She been OK?'_

_'Perfect, of course.'_

_'Changing go well?'_

_Fenris grinned lopsidedly. 'I got another Mum to help me.'_

_Cullen chuckled, glancing down at his phone. Still nothing and they still had a busy day ahead of them._

_'Right,' he sighed. 'Onto the next?'_

_Lee was texting someone. ‘Only three more to go.'_

_*_

_Somewhere around the end of the day, Sophia began to get cranky. She made tiny little noises of distress, rooting around seeming displeased with whoever was holding her. Even tiger in a tree didn't work. Tiny noises became full on cries and full on cries became screaming by the time the sun went down on the last night of July._

_Cullen wiped sweat from his eyes, walking around in shorts and fuck all else, Sophia stripped down to a little vest and a nappy as Lee turned on the fans, called Harding for the fifth time to demand where this air-con unit was and Fenris dipped a flannel into a glass of icy water, carefully wringing it out. Cullen thought he was about to put it on Sophia, ready to object because it would startle her, but Fenris placed it on the back of Cullen’s neck instead. The relief was instant and Fenris held it there until his body heat warmed it._

_Lee swore fluently and impressively. 'It won't be here until tomorrow. I've tried everywhere.'_

_Fenris shrugged. 'Money can't buy everything, Lee.'_

_'Go fuck yourself, arrogant twat.'_

_'The heat makes you cranky too,' he pointed out, flicking through the channels. Cullen walked Sophia upstairs, his ears ringing from the sheer velocity of the tiny baby's screams. It was relentless, never ending and he just wanted to plead with her, reason with her that he was doing his best, couldn't she just give him a moment?_

_Except she was three weeks old and he was the adult, due to turn twenty four in less than a month. He walked around the bedroom, the air hot and stilted. He opened a window and sat on the bed, making the_ shhhh _noises that all the books recommended but he doubted she could even hear it over her own screams._

_She missed Madeline. He knew it in the pit of his stomach. She wanted her Mother, however disinterested she'd been, Sophia wanted her._

_Cullen looked up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. It broke his heart into pieces, he wanted to call Madeline and tell her what a piece of shit she was for doing this, that she was a terrible fucking mother and he would never, ever let her come near Sophia again._

_But then he had an idea._

_He popped Sophia down on the middle of the bed and went to the washing basket, rifling around until he found the dressing gown the Sophia had sicked up a little on, Madeline's dressing gown. He slipped it on, a tight squeeze despite being loose and baggy on Madeline, all silky and smelling just like her, then he went back for the tiny, distraught three week old._

_He picked her up, humming in a slightly higher voice as he held her to his chest, rocking her back and forth. She didn't settle at first but he didn't stop the quiet, soft song and he walked her downstairs, gestured at the others to turn the lights down low and grab a bottle._

_When her cries began to taper off, her face all red and wet from tears, she was rooting against Cullen's chest and he wanted to cry, despised Madeline for doing this, but he held himself together. Offered the nib of the bottle, keeping it as close to his own chest as possible and slowly, somewhat warily, she took it._

_After a solid ten seconds of feeding, Cullen exhaled carefully, Lee pressing a kiss to his head, arm around his back while Fenris smiled up at him from where he sat on the floor._

_*_

_The first week was the toughest by far. Cullen clung hard to the notion that she was coming back, that Madeline would come back. A few days break that was reasonable, wasn't it? He kept expecting to hear a key in the door, but it never came._

_After the first week, after a gruelling schedule adjustment, sleeping in shifts and working together with help from Josie, Rosalie who flew in especially to help out, Cullen slowly began to accept that maybe, Madeline wasn't actually coming back._

_He played it over and over in his head. Backtracked the dates and realised that when she'd come to him, she was already past the point of obtaining an abortion. Sophia had been born pretty much full term from what he'd heard the nurses say._

_A midwife appointment took him completely by surprise the next day and if it wasn't for Josie who constantly went around tidying and making the place generally lovely, it would have likely looked like a bomb had hit it._

_Cullen opened the door, breathless and sweaty, Sophia howling for her afternoon feed and for a moment, he'd given the woman a rather hostile, "_ Yeah, what?" _kind of look before he remembered that his daughter was one month old and that a visit was scheduled._

_'Oh, right, yes! Come in, come in,' he greeted, smiling bright and wide, the way he was getting good at. 'Sorry, I’m a bit frazzled.'_

_Fenris poked his head around the kitchen door, dressing. 'Who the fuck is—ah, hello! Tea? I'll make some tea!'_

_The Midwife looked less than impressed._

_'Where's Mum?' she asked._

_'Ah, Sophia's Mum is out, getting some fresh air. I'm so sorry, we uh, we both forgot the appointment if I'm being honest.'_

_Her expression softened a little. 'It's OK. First time always feels a bit like a prison sentence coupled with memory loss.'_

_He laughed politely as Lee came into the room, phone to her ear, chatting away._

_'Lee,' Cullen said meaningfully. 'This is the midwife.'_

_Give Leliana her due, she was always quick to adapt. 'Apologies,' she whispered to the woman. 'I was just leaving. Lovely to see you again Cullen.'_

_'Right,' the midwife whose name escaped Cullen entirely said. 'Shall we?'_

_*_

_'Cullen, she put your name on the birth certificate, that means something,' Fenris told him, rubbing Sophia's back, making slow, soothing circles as they sat around the dining room table after two weeks. 'You don't have to worry.'_

_'Don't have to worry? What if they think I murdered her?'_

_Lee inclined her head. 'Slightly hysterical.'_

_'We know she's alive, my friend caught facial recognition in Manchester. She's there. She's fine.'_

Fine _. She was fine, was she? Her daughter was here, needing her Mother and Cullen was_ _… fuck, he was doing his best, but when had his best ever, ever been enough? He was only just getting by and that was_ with _the help of his family, still minus Bran._

_'I just_ _…' his voice gave out and he dropped his head into his arms on the table. He was so tired, just beyond exhausted and he was sad, the bone deep kind. Everything felt like the end of the world, everything had him wanting to cry. 'It's all going wrong.'_

_'Please,' Fenris said firmly. 'Please go and sleep.'_

_'We've got her,' Lee promised him, patting his back._

_'No,' he croaked. 'I can't.'_

_'Why?'_

_'What if she misses me?'_

_'What if you sleep for more than forty five minutes and it makes a world of difference to your energy, which babies can sense?'_

_'I_ _… I don't know.'_

_'We'll be down here, you know she's safe with us. Please. Go have a nap. Go on, it's only ten, you could sleep for a good while before the afternoon feed.'_

_Miserably, Cullen gave in._

_*_

_Oh, the difference two hours of sleep made. He awoke bright and focused, excited and eager to see his baby girl, to make tea, to make_ plans _, to go to meetings, take on the world._

_From then on, they always made sure to let him nap at some point during the day, even if it was a few hours at night. Lee would stay up with her, Fenris keeping his distance more after dark even though Cullen knew he hardly slept anymore._

_They didn't talk about it much. Fenris mostly didn't want to talk about it, didn't seem to want any measure of sympathy and Cullen thought maybe he understood, would not want sympathy either if he hurt one of them, but still. Now he knew the difference a few hours of sleep could truly make._

_If and when Fenris really needed to sleep, he would go home to his tiny little flat. Small and secure, solitary and safe._

_The album, despite Cullen's slightly baffled amusement, seemed to go from strength to strength. Lee and Josie worked together to form his own brand of publicity, the kind of thing where he played at smaller gigs, more heartfelt music, did a lot of YouTube uploads, lots of covers and collaborations with Isabela, but very rarely giving interviews. Lee would purposefully decline interviews which made them all the more determined to get one. They were careful about photos, kept them scarce and since Cullen hardly ever left the flat, there weren't many to be found._

_It was weird to see his name in the papers. Weirder still to hear his name on the radio._

_'They want you to tour,' Lee told him when Sophia was two months old. 'I already told them no, but eventually, we'll have to figure something out.'_

_Cullen understood. Part of him maybe even wanted it, but for now, it wasn't possible. His baby came first._

_*_

_At twenty four with a three month old, Cullen was master of the universe, or at least, he was getting two to three hours of sleep every night and so felt that way._

_He had nothing but the most intense admiration for anyone who raised a baby without a team of people to help, as he had, because even then, it was relentless work. Without Lee and Fenris, he didn't know how he would have done any of it. How did single mothers_ shower _? How did they eat, sleep, survive?_

 _Sophia was the centre of his world. He'd never, ever loved anything like her. Could not fathom the well of absolute, impenetrable love he felt for that tiny little creature. It was shocking, really, to realise in a calm, logical way that by comparison, he had_ never _loved Madeline, not really, if this was what love could be._

_He loved her more than Fenris and Lee, even, though that was a different love and he knew that too. This love he felt for his child, it demanded everything and he was happy to give himself entirely. There was no back and forth like with his friends, no support system between them, no understanding beyond that Cullen would happily die for and do anything for his little princess._

_Cullen took her to get weighed once every two weeks. He sat with the other Mums who were mostly there alone. They swarmed around him, oddly fascinated to watch him be a Dad. To see him feed her, change her and sometimes, when the wait was especially long, listen to him sing to her._

_He always felt nervous when they weighed Sophia, was unsure if he'd done enough, was desperate to see that_ line _in her red book go up, to reach a higher percentile. In the earlier weeks of her life, the line had been worryingly flat. Her distress at the separation interfered with her ability to feed sometimes._

_'Well, someone's been hungry these last two weeks, look at that!' the midwife exclaimed happily, while Sophia looked around with her pretty dark brown eyes, naked on the scales. 'Fifteen ounces! Almost a whole pound!'_

_'Really?'_

_She showed him the scales, showed him the line. It was most definitely going_ up _._

_'That's a nice gain, what we like to see. Quarter inch growth of height there, too. Are you gonna be tall like your Daddy? Yes you are! Any problems? No rashes that I can see, not a one, because you're a gorgeous thing, aren't you? Yes, yes, yes!'_

_He felt almost dizzy with relief, watching the midwife tickle under Sophia's chin as his daughter smiled and happily writhed, gummy little thing that made his heart fit to_ burst _. 'No, no problems,' he said, moving her to the change mat now the weighing was done._

_'Any questions?'_

_'Nope, all good.'_

_'Well, I think you're doing a really great job,' she added a touch quieter, filling out a page in the book. 'I meant to ask you last time, would you consider coming to the single parent group? I know you're very busy, but it would mean a lot to the few Dads who attend. Plus,' she added with a smile. 'Always lovely to have a celebrity.'_

_Cullen paused, halfway to doing up the row of three poppers. 'There's a celebrity in the group?'_

_She laughed, finishing her notes with a flourish. 'There will be if you're there.'_

_*_

_Cullen walked Sophia back to the flat that day, pondering the words of the helpful midwife. It was a joke, surely. He wasn't a celebrity, not by a long shot. He wasn't on billboards, was barely even in the press, admittedly by design and he had no reporters chasing him around. He'd never been on TV. Sometimes people wrote to him, sure, but that didn't mean anything._

_Being a celebrity was not something he wanted. What he wanted was to play his music for people to enjoy and resonate with. He wanted to perform, to put on the best show he could and feel the applause vibrate in his bones._

_He felt a little bad for lying and saying he'd think about the group, but in all honesty, he didn't have time. Leliana had turned the living room into a veritable tummy time palace, all manner of squishy mats on the floor, light up roll-around toys, all the stimuli she could need at that age. Rosalie would spend ages on the floor with her, chatting away and playing._

_The last two months marked the longest time that Rosie had stuck around in one place. Cullen repeatedly told her she didn't have to stay that long, while simultaneously offering to buy her a house if she did, because he_ missed _her, missed her when she was gone, his beautiful free spirit of a sister._

_'No houses, thanks,' she would reply, offering Fenris a grape from the other side of the room, grinning when he caught it in his mouth even from such a distance. 'But you can lend me three hundred quid for a new tattoo.'_

_No matter how much Cullen offered, even in tandem with Lee and Fenris, Rosalie did not take any of their money. There was no enforced pride about it, no sense of disdain or affront. She was simply happy with her life as it was, liked to make her way through the world off her own back. Cullen wondered if he would ever feel anything close to such levels of peace._

_'_ More _tattoos?' Fenris grumbled good naturedly. 'You'll run out of space, Rosie Rey.'_

_'This one's on my leg, thank you very much,' she answered primly, sticking her tongue out._

_Cullen sent her the money from his banking app. 'Don't worry about paying it back, sweetheart.'_

_'Of course I'm gonna—'_

_'What I meant,' he added swiftly. 'Was that you can repay me with an hour or two of babysitting tonight, if you're free? I have a thing.'_

_Fenris looked over, keen instincts no doubt prickling._

_'A thing?'_

_Here it came._

_'Oh my God,' Rosalie said, eyes widening. 'Is it a date?’_

_'It's not a date, not_ _… well, not exactly.'_

_Fenris closed his book. 'Holy shit, you're going on a date!'_

_Cullen picked up Sophia, who made a dainty little noise of approval. 'Bloody hell,' he muttered, kissing her cheek. 'My fault for saying anything.'_

_They followed him out into the kitchen, not giving up so easily._

_'So,' Fenris said, hopping up onto the counter beside the bottle warmer._

_Cullen heaved a sigh. 'It's a guy I met at the studio.'_

_Rosalie clapped enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her toes with glee. 'Is he a singer too?'_

_'Sound mixer.'_

_'Awww, he can mix your sounds.'_

_Fenris smirked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. 'Oh, yeah, bet he'd_ love _to mix your sounds.'_

_'It's barely even a date.'_

_'We'll decide that, thanks. Give us details.'_

_'We're meeting for drinks.'_

_'That's a date,' Rosalie declared, but Fenris didn't seem satisfied. He watched Cullen with the tiniest crease around his eyes._

_'What else?'_

_Cullen rubbed Sophia's back as the bottle warmer button turned orange, indicating it was done. 'It's a, um. Double date.'_

_He understood right away and Cullen hated that he had to be the one to tell his friend, but surely better that than_ _… well, no actually, it was shit, regardless._

_Fenris barely reacted, expression smoothing out as he nodded._

_'Sounds great. Hope the four of you have fun.' He jumped down, patting Cullen's shoulder as he passed._

_'Oh,' Rosalie said, joining him at the countertop, half grimacing. 'Shit, sorry. I didn't know.'_

_'No, it's not your fault. I just wish things were_ _… not like this.'_

_Rosalie nodded, keeping tactful silence. The_ thing _with Lee and Fenris, it was complicated, to the point that even talking about it made things more tangled. They'd discovered, through trial and error, that it was best left to the two of them, let them decide how and when to bring it up, if ever._

 _Leliana was happy to bring it up often; a_ not quite _playful method of torture for Fenris who she was still patently in love with. This_ date _marked the first of such an occasion and though it was perfectly reasonable for her to embark upon such a thing - it_ was _with someone she genuinely liked and was attracted to - Cullen couldn't help but feel a twist of that familiar misery, sat between them while they fought. He felt bad for Fenris but there was no one side he felt more for. It was equally bad, both sides were evenly matched in their motives and still being so in love with one another just made it all the more like decorating a Christmas tree with fucking razor wire._

_*_

_The date, when he admitted to himself that it_ was _indeed a date, went reasonably well. Cullen had never been on a double date before and it wasn't like what he pictured. They didn't sit in a booth, drinking milkshakes and laughing awkwardly, positioned opposite their dates._

_They went to a place with bare brick and glowing vintage orange lightbulbs. It was simply packed and there was nowhere to sit, only a long strip of bar that was retrofitted from three old train carriages. It was all nineteen twenties music, most of the patrons were millennials. Cullen had never seen so many man buns and beards._

_The sound mixer, Simon Taylor, was vibrant, witty and sweet. It was a strange combination and Cullen found himself drawn mostly to his smiles, to the way his whole face creased up when laughing. He bought Cullen a martini and Cullen paced himself because he was an addict and binge drinking, or drinking at all really, was never a good idea for addicts, so he'd learnt. Lee told funny stories and her guy, who Cullen could not help but think was the archetypal_ opposite _of Fenris, seemed deeply interested in her. Essio did not work at the studio, he was just one of her people, one of her contacts. He was about an inch taller than Cullen, he had short, dark hair and was Mediterranean, perhaps Spanish._

_Leliana, who had always been good with languages, spoke often to him in flirty chunks of broken Spanish, possibly Italian and aside from a polite handshake at the start of the night, Essio spoke only to Lee._

_Which was fine because it left Cullen having to raise his voice to be heard over the rambunctious din of the bar. Simon was good at small talk and Cullen was happy to be led. Didn't_ quite _know how to package himself, offer himself up to others._

_After less than an hour, Lee led the guy away to the bathroom by the hand and Cullen watched her go, something like second hand heartbreak for Fenris who was at home with Rosie._

_'You OK?' Simon asked and then looked down at Cullen's drink. 'You want another? Or something different?'_

_Cullen shook himself, exhaling with a smile. 'Sorry. Uh, right. You know what, I'll just get a coke, I think and actually, it's my round anyway, right? Same again?'_

_'Sure, thanks.'_

_They moved right to the bottom L of the bar, hovering at the end, away from most of the crowd._

_'So, tell me more about you. I've been rambling all night.'_

_'I mean,' Cullen said, rubbing the back of his neck. 'You already know me.'_

_'From_ work _, that's not the real you. C'mon, gimme three interesting things. Same thing I do with my little brother after school. Why do kids_ never _want to tell you about their days, seriously? Go on, three things!'_

 _'Right, OK. Three things, um.' Oh God. Did he even_ have _three interesting things? Jesus. 'I_ _… worked in construction?' he said, wincing.'_

 _Simon brightened, sipping his cocktail. 'Oh wow, really? That's incredible. You_ built _things. Your work is the backbone of someone's home. That always amazes me, how people_ build _things. I think of how I tried to build a shelf the other day and it was just a disaster and yet there's people like you who actually built shit. How do you get houses level? Do you use those spirit bubble thingies?'_

_Simon was easy to talk to. He took the bare minimum Cullen could offer up and turn it into something glittering and impressive._

_Cullen next told Simon about dropping out of school (oh my God, you're a bad boy! Knew it, where's your leather jacket, hair's not even slicked back, spy in disguise as an angel, are we?) and then he told Simon that he had a daughter._

_'Oh, of course,' Simon said, like that was obvious. 'I mean, even if I hadn't seen her around the studio sometimes, it's in the papers, obviously.'_

_Cullen wasn't sure he'd heard him right. 'Sorry?'_

_'Y'know, I saw it on the front of a magazine a couple of times.'_

_There wasn't really anything to say to that, so Cullen tried to move on, talked about music for a while and then Lee_ finally _came back from the universal bathrooms, only slightly mussed, but not looking especially impressed._

_'There you are!' Simon greeted cheerfully, either incredibly heedless of what she'd been doing or wonderfully non-judgemental, Cullen suspected the latter. 'Another round, you guys?'_

_'No thanks,' Lee said polite but brisk as Essio trailed behind her, giving nothing away. 'I'm actually going to take off. Cullen, are you staying?'_

_Cullen didn't mean to baulk, he really didn't but he'd only felt comfortable_ going _in the first place because of Lee. 'Uh, no, we've got a long day and I can't leave Sophia too long.' He picked his jacket up off the bar stool, giving Simon his full attention. 'This has been_ _… so great.' He spoke genuinely, had honestly had a lovely time, just didn't feel comfortable staying without Lee, not yet. 'You've got my number?'_

 _'Yeah, thanks again for coming out with me,' the attractive man said, short light brown hair, blue eyes, nice body. Cullen wished he_ felt _attracted to him. Even wished he felt that_ pull _to take him to the bathroom, the way Lee had with Essio, but it wasn't there._

 _Not_ yet _, he told himself as they parted._

_*_

_Sophia was four months old and most nights, Cullen had her all to himself. No matter how crazy things were during the day, she always came with him, even if that meant Fenris walking her around, sat snugly in a chest carrier and sometimes just in his arms. Cullen, Lee and occasionally Josie, who was now his official personal relations manager, went where they were needed. Recording songs, meeting with promoters, Christ so many meetings. Publishers, labels, copyright editors, just an endless array of people._

_The album didn't hit number one but three of his songs did and that_ _… that blew Cullen's mind. He heard himself on the radio whenever he got a cab. People were starting to recognise him._

_The first time someone stopped him in the street and asked for his autograph, that was crazy. He felt so embarrassed by it, couldn't help the way his cheeks flooded with heat._

_The money he made from it wasn't anything near what had dropped in their laps from Lee's dead, royal Dad but it was more money than Cullen had ever made in a year, in five years. He stared at that first royalties cheque and tried to let it sink in._

_He didn't do anything with it, of course. Gave it to Lee, let her do what she did better than anyone he knew which was to take money and make_ more _._

_The nights he had with Sophia were levelling out. She slept for a good chunk of the night now and without Madeline, he was able to move her into the main bedroom as he'd always wanted to. He hated there being a wall between them, got one of those co-sleeper cribs that were extremely safe, so he'd been assured and had her next to him, gentle little breaths the last thing he heard before he fell into peaceful sleep._

_She was his whole world and he was at least a big part of hers. She recognised his voice, would swivel her little head if he'd been away for a while and returned, eyes widening, clapping her hands excitedly._

_He couldn't quantify it, could not understand how he loved something_ so much. _That feeling of picking her up and holding her close, of her chubby hands closing around his string roughened fingers. At four months, she could sit unaided and it opened up a world of possibilities. Cullen would surround her with toys, with squashy chew-proof books and her favourite cuddly which was a little lion sewn onto a blanket, and he would sit with her, playing._

_They could do this for ages. She watched him play with wide, alert eyes, listening keenly to the noises he made, to the way he sang. She liked it when he played faster, often clapped and grinned._

_Cullen was obsessed with her._

_He didn't go out with Simon again, despite quite liking him. Cited not mixing business and pleasure, but honestly, any free time he had, he_ wanted _to be with Sophia, no matter how much the others encouraged him to go out, have some_ me _time._

_She was the centre of his universe and she always would be._

_*_

_The week before Christmas, Madeline came back._

_*_

_Distraught was not the word._

_Upset was not remotely accurate._

_Devastated was closer, but nothing could truthfully describe what it did to Cullen when Madeline let herself into the flat, still had the keys, and calmly, unapologetically announced that she was there to take Sophia._

_She'd cut her hair shorter, added highlights and her skin was extremely tanned. In the car outside, was someone Cullen instinctively knew was not_ just a friend.

 _Cullen begged and he pleaded. Fenris was there and it was only that strong, utterly unflinching hand around his wrist that kept him from_ stopping _Madeline from taking her. None of his begging did any good. She thanked him for taking care of Sophia this long and then said he was off the hook. Casually declared that she'd changed her mind and actually, she'd really missed her. That she was ready now._

_'Thanks,' she said, when she carried his baby girl away, still sleeping in the car seat. 'You did great.'_

_Fenris didn’t let go, held him back. Cullen would have gone after her, would have done anything to get her back and Fenris was protecting Cullen from himself, being smart, but it was unbearable all the same._

_She was her Mother. Immovable fact, but it tore Cullen in half._

_He didn't remember much about the weeks after she left without so much as a phone number or an address. It was a black hole and he would have been lost to it, had the others not held him back, anchored him to the world. Lee made him go to the police, told him very sternly to_ lie _when they would ask if he was the biological parent but he didn't, couldn't bring himself to, was sure it wouldn't matter anyway. He'd been the one caring for her the last few months, since she'd been born, hadn't he?_

_Except it did matter apparently and a baby's place was with their Mother._

_*_

_He hadn't left the house for a month when Bran came calling._

_Fenris let him in, barely saying a word and Cullen, who was sat on the sofa, legs beneath him, staring at the walls, blinked a few times and realised who it was._

_'Hey,' Branson said warily, taking a seat, coat still on. There was a small frown between his eyes, concern maybe, guardedness most likely._

_'What do you want?' Cullen sighed, looking away._

_'I_ _… well, Rosalie told me. Fuck.' Bran's voice wavered. 'Cullen, I'm so sorry.'_

_And Cullen, who did not want to feel anything anymore, not without his baby girl, simply shrugged. What use was a body, what use was a mind, a voice, heartbeat or happiness without her?_

_'Great, thanks.'_

_'I didn't know that Madeline was_ _… that she'd even had a baby, let alone left you to care for it and then—'_

_'She's my_ daughter _,' Cullen said in a voice that vibrated like a too-tight guitar string, overly wound and ready to snap at any moment._

_Bran nodded, swallowing as he dropped his gaze. 'Yeah, of course. I'm so sorry. I didn't even get to-to meet her. I'm really sorry.'_

_Cullen's jaw worked as his eyes stung. 'You've been busy. Who cares?'_

_'I care. I shouldn't have said what I did, should never have cut you off like that. No matter what, you're family. You, Rosalie, Fen and Lee. We're all family, Sophia too. I should have been here.'_

_He didn't want tears rolling down his otherwise immaculately controlled expression, he didn't_ want _to feel things because those things would claw him apart and have him begging Fenris to do more, do_ better _in trying to find them. And if he found them, he knew he would_ take _Sophia. He knew it._

 _And that wasn't good, so they'd all explained to him a million times. He couldn't just_ take _her away, flee the country and keep her with him forever because he didn't believe that Madeline could love her like he did. Didn't trust her to put in the time, the effort, the_ love _. Madeline had never been very good at loving anything and that was crystal clear in an especially cruel shade of hindsight._

 _Cullen didn't want to do this. A few months ago, he would have been crying tears of fucking joy to see his little brother, just to_ see _him. Now, he had no energy, no reason to get up, no reason to get dressed._

_But he made himself do it anyway. He had Fenris and he had Leliana. He had siblings, friends, obligations and a whole life. That wasn't nothing._

Remember why you started, _he told himself some days. He still didn't quite know what it meant, didn't know if it applied to his singing or the love he felt for others, the strength they lent him that he made his own. He thought of Declan, of that cheeky smile, not afraid to return to the streets. There were so many people worse off than he was, so many. And his baby was still out there. He knew Madeline, he knew she would clock sooner or later that there was money to be made. Deep down, he knew she'd be back._

_With Sophia._

_So, he made himself recognise how far he'd let himself fall if Rosalie was urging Bran to visit, if the efforts of his friends had not pulled him back to normality. He crushed down the inertia like despair, debilitating and draining and he turned to face his little brother, took a deep breath._

_*_

_Cullen was freshly twenty five, standing outside in Manchester on a scorching hot evening and he did not, repeat_ not _like parties like this. Lee was off, doing her thing of course. She was happy anywhere, especially if she was making contacts, pushing his name, his brand. Fenris would be nearby, watching him, watching her, keeping them safe. Creepy letters and a broken window didn't mean a lot to Cullen, not when he still hadn't heard anything from Madeline. He'd left the flat, lived in a much bigger place on a higher floor now. But Fenris was his sentinel, his guard. He kept him safe, even if it didn’t seem that way. Technology and a suit to blend, Fenris was his bodyguard in all but name._

 _He didn't want to be there, but it was part of promoting success, of mingling. This life, it was all about moving on upwards, never stopping. There were musicians all around. Isabela was on the small stage in someone's home who could afford to build a_ stage _in their enormous garden. She was drunkenly singing along, groaning really, to ‘Crystalline’ and not doing a bad job, despite how completely pissed she was. Ed walked past Cullen, dropped a wink and kept right on going, headed for the dip. Cullen rolled his eyes and wondered when they could leave._

_'You can't leave yet,' Fenris said, appearing out of the darkness and apparently reading his mind. 'It's 11pm. Go do something like a famous person.'_

_Cullen snorted, looking around at the_ famous _people. He didn't know half of them, a good amount were the heavy metal rock kind, the sort who constantly offered drugs, who drank and lived the kind of life Cullen had no interest in._

_'I could leave,' Cullen pointed out quietly. 'Literally no one even knows I'm—'_

_'Cullen!' Isabela shrieked, half falling off the stage, half_ flying _towards him. Cullen caught her just in time. 'So heroic!' she beamed, righting herself. 'Fenris, oh lovely Fenris. Are you ever hiring because_ _…' she hiccupped, wrapping herself around Fenris like a silk scarf. 'I'm pretty great at stabbing men with pens, y'know.'_

 _Cullen left her in the more than capable hands of his best friend, off to pester Lee about leaving. He'd said hello to the five people that mattered, did his_ smile _with the others, flatly refused to sing and maintained his mysterious image, for Christ's sake couldn't he ever catch a break?_

 _He was_ so close _when a hand not unlike a shovel thwacked him across the back, sending him into a half stumble. Cullen was tall and he was well built, years of labour giving him definition and strength, but still, fucking_ ouch _. He looked around, barely keeping his countenance._

_Not this guy._

_'Cullen!' the rock and roll dickhead boomed and Cullen resigned himself to his fate, smiling the smile, hitting him right back as hard as he could but with a good four inches on him and shoulders that would test the width of narrow doors, Harry didn't even seem to feel it._

_'Hey, how you doing?'_

_'Great, fucking great, you? Great party right? Can't believe Marley's here, can you?'_

_Cullen followed his gaze. 'Miley, you mean?'_

_Harry sniffed and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, amateur. 'Yeah, yeah, course. You look great. Not opening for us anymore, nah?'_

_He nudged Cullen again while Cullen mentally reminded himself that punching someone of his carriage would likely do all the damage of a playful slap._

_'Too busy propping up the wallflowers,' Cullen said, exterior all easy smiles and friendliness but this was a man who he did not know very well and what he did know, he definitely didn't like._

_The lead singer of Fully Charged found that fucking_ hilarious _, rewarded Cullen with another back-slap which Cullen suffered as if he was being lashed in a courtyard and couldn't show weakness._

_'So great, man, hey you want some of this shit? Fucking amazing, never had blow like it.'_

_'No thanks.'_

_Harry grinned, pushing his dark, wet style curls back. Cullen supposed if someone shrunk his ratio by one twentieth and calmed him the fuck down, Harry would be good looking. He was definitely a draw in the rock and roll world, had women falling over him. Cullen glanced around the side of a massive shoulder to see his entourage, sat around the firepit exchanging_ road _stories and having what seemed to be a great time, all except one._

_Cullen frowned a little bit and Harry turned, following his gaze._

_'Oh yeah,' he chuckled. 'He's no fun at parties.'_

_The man, maybe a few years younger than Cullen and most definitely younger than Harry, was staring into the fire, arms crossed. He didn't seem angry, not even bored just_ _… resigned._

_He looked how Cullen felt._

_'Gorgeous though, right? You should see him naked.'_

_Cullen looked away, having only just mastered the fine art of_ not _blushing in front of people when they pushed him in such a way. Privately, he might have agreed. The man had a mop of gorgeous dark hair, it curled ever so slightly at the ends, pushed to one side. His features were chiselled, artful facial hair that ran across what Cullen could tell was a plump, pretty upper lip and a light dusting down the sides, hipster style, but with something_ else _, something just a bit rebellious and new. Beside him, one of Harry's people, a roadie whose name was something like Cram, offered a beer and the young man refused, smiling tiredly. When he moved, Cullen could see a thin line of something shimmering down the side of his face. Body glitter, maybe._

_Cullen rarely wanted to talk to anyone who wasn't already beloved to him, especially not at places like this, but he wanted to go to him then. Sit beside him, say he knew how he felt. Ask if he wanted to go hide in the kitchen with him. Find out his name, ask why he was sad._

_Maybe make him tea and a sandwich, a really good one._

_'Ahh, I see how it is,' Harry teased, nudging Cullen and bringing his attention back, unwillingly. 'You wanna turn with him? He'll agree if I asked nicely, do anything for me, that kid.'_

_Cullen blinked, lip curling. 'The fuck did you say?'_

_'Harry,' Lee greeted smoothly, stepping in to save the day, which was good, considering that Cullen's mood was literally such that he would have happily broken his hand on that wanker's face. 'So good to see you.'_

_'Red, look at you! Why haven't we fucked yet? I can't think of a single reason why.'_

_Lee, who dressed the way an assassin would if they were pretending to be a talent manager, gave an unusually chilly smile. 'I can think of a few. How was Hellfest?'_

_Cullen looked back, eyes drawn to the fire pit, to a now empty seat. He wondered where that man had gone, wondered if maybe he should wander around himself, try to bump into him, but then he felt instantly terrible. Poor guy just wanted some alone time._

_'_ _… fantastic, but we really do have to be going,' Lee was saying, rubbing Harry's arm. 'Do pace yourself now.'_

_Fenris walked by Cullen's side as they left. 'You OK?' he asked, sensing Cullen's disquiet._

_Cullen shook himself. He tried to put it out of his mind, to forget the fire in those eyes, the way the young man whose name eluded him had sat, definitely not succeeding._

_Still, he dredged up a real smile for Fenris._

_‘Yeah, yeah, I'm good. C'mon, let's go home.'_

_*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! You miss Dorian and he will be BACK in a week or so, probably next Saturday and I SWEAR he's gonna see Cullen, they've been apart for too long. There will be a third and final part to Cullen's story which will feature Dorian quite heavily as we arrive at present day, but that won't be for a while, it really will be all Dorian/Now!Cullen because I know this was LONG and I beat you up a bit, but guys, I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, drop me a comment, an emoji, a GIF, send me a love letter or verbally punch me in the face, anything. I still can't believe I wrote a CHAPTER longer than the intended total word length of this story. 
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing support, love, brilliant insightful comments and overall kindness. I hope this was worth the wait. 💜💜💜


	25. Don’t Let Me Fall Away, Oh I Gotta Break This Chain (Right Here In The Infinite We'll Stay)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, sorry again for this being later than I wanted but wow, this was probably the hardest chapter yet, just took so much work. Thank you all so much for your feedback on the last chapter, I know I put you through the ringer there, so I'm hoping this... might just very slightly make up for it? Quick note. 
> 
> I borrowed lyrics from my actual favourite singer of all time, Nathan Wagner, for the song at the end because it's the single greatest song I've ever heard and nothing I could come up with would ever come close, so all credit to Nathan. The song, 'Into The Infinite' is beyond amazing and I highly recommend listening to it, I wrote the entirety of the second half of this chapter with this sing playing in the background, ESPECIALLY the last scene. The lyrics are slightly adapted, but as I said, all credit to Nathan who is pretty much exactly how Cullen sounds in my head. 
> 
> Anyway. Really hoping you enjoy and thank you again, so much for your support, kindness and feedback. 💜💜💜

_Dorian Pavus was eighteen and his decision not to wear a jacket on his night out backfired in spectacular fashion when it started to rain. Queueing to get inside the club, pulsing beat coming from within the walls, Dorian wiped his hair from his eyes, damp all over but it could not dent his good mood._

_'Bouncer's the good one,' his friend Ashley whispered. 'Sera, get your tits out. He won't charge us'_

_'It's a_ gay club _,' Dorian's friend hissed. 'And I ain't gettin' 'em out for anything less than Angelina fucking Jolie, so go fuck yourself!'_

_The rain thickened, pouring wet and cool, but by no means cold. Dorian liked the rain, had not spent much time in it as a child. Umbrellas had always magically appeared for him whenever droplets would start to fall, a member of the household staff whipping one out whenever necessary, which wasn't often._

_This was a summer storm, gorgeously torrential. It was amazing. Others huddled together, seeking to remain dry but Dorian could tell instantly it was pointless. The drops were huge, thick and determined. He let it happen, relaxed and allowed himself to become drenched because he didn’t care, it couldn’t make him any less gorgeous. There were toilets inside, mirrors. He could sort himself out in there, preferably_ before _he went back later to get royally fucked in one of the stalls._

_'Why are we even going here again?' Ellana asked, huddling against Dorian. He'd only been out once or twice with this girl, had met her through Sera and she seemed lovely, but a little bit shy. Her parents were strictly Catholic and even though she was staying with her cousins while she went to a London college, it was always difficult convincing her to come out, as if she might get into trouble still._

_'Because you never have,' he told her, wrapping a wet arm around her tiny, bony shoulders. 'Everyone should experience a gay club before they become an adult.'_

_'How many times you been?' the young woman asked, looking up at him. 'A lot?'_

_Dorian smirked. 'Once or twice.'_

_'We goin' back to your place after, right?' Sera prompted. 'My Dad'll bust a nut if I go back with glitter all over me, smelling of gay.'_

_Ashley squinted, his eyeliner running ever so slightly in the rain, though his hair had enough spray in it to protect it from a tornado. 'Smelling of_ gay _?'_

_'Your natural scent,' Sera told him, patting his shoulder, shivering despite wearing a massive coat she'd wisely brought. 'So, your place, babe?'_

_'Yeah, course,' Dorian said, blinking rivulets of rain from his eyes as the queue moved forward._

_They dried off first, then drinks, then dancing. Dorian was an excellent dancer, loved to move, to drag people into his space, take them along with him, eye contact, bodies touching. Sizing people up, seeing who might be good to fuck. Casual sex was_ the best _thing in the fucking world. No better way to work out any stress, no way to feel more alive. Dorian's favourite place was the dancefloor, waiting for that pounding rhythm of a song he liked, so eager to get out there, show off and show how_ amazing _he was._

_Had he worked a sixty hour week? Damned straight._

_Would he likely benefit from an early night? Probably._

_Was he going to take some gorgeous guy back home and fuck him until the sun rose and then inevitably call in sick to sleep through the day?_

_Hell fucking yeah, he was._

_A few Sambucas later, Dorian was the most beautiful, perfect creature ever to grace the Earth. He danced without a care in the world, no trace of insecurity because he knew he moved well, knew he drew people to him. Men, women, everyone who'd ever clapped eyes on him_ did _have a tendency to want him. He only wanted the boys, it had always been other boys. Big chests, strong upper arms, the kind who could pick him up and move him. He liked that. Loved it when he found someone taller than he was._

 _His song came on, and of course it did because this club was hardly cutting edge, it played the same sixteen songs every weekend, tossing some filler rhythm between each one. He threw his head back, skin glistening in the lights, body glitter up the side of his neck, his shoulders, fucking all over because he loved that shit, loved anything that made him_ shine _._

_No doubt he was about to be accosted by hunky dudes, hands on his waist, tongues down his throat but something came over him then, something that had him smiling to himself, making for the stage where the professional twinks danced. He got up there, helped by a few who knew him, wide easy grins and no manager rushing forward to stop him because why the fuck would anyone stop him? He was perfect, stunning, God's gift to humankind, the club should be paying him._

_He twirled, pulling off his still damp vest, mussing his hair and then he threw it into the crowd, not caring who caught it. He smiled as he danced, hands of the dancers on his skin, but it was clear who the centre of attention was and too fucking right._

_Dorian was everything good in the world, he had his whole life ahead of him and all of it set to his favourite song. He was the rhythm, the notes, the bass. He was perfect._

*

Dorian was in a tizzy, which was a nice way of putting it. Ever since the line had gone dead, club music cutting out, he hadn't been able to think of anything besides the fact that Cullen was not _fine,_ he wasn't _safe_ even and Dorian… Dorian had to get to him.

'I have to get to him,' he kept saying, while the other three did their best to calm him down. 'You don't understand, he's in danger!'

'OK, say that's true, what are you going to actually do about it?' Alistair asked as Dorian pulled shoes on, mentally pushing through the worst plans to get to the really good ones, the ones where he punched Jassen in the face without breaking his thumb this time.

'He's all alone,' Dorian said quietly, lacing up his shoes in poor fashion, made difficult because his fingertips were shaking. 'He needs me.'

Sera crouched in front of him, helping. 'Dor,' she said sternly. 'We'll do whatever you think's best, but meet us halfway here. Ten minutes ago you didn't want to even hear about him.'

'I thought he was fine. Or at least,' he gestured shakily. 'Not this level of fucked.'

 _Because_ we're _the only ones who get to spiral,_ his mind supplied cruelly. _The only ones who suffer_.

He winced and stood too fast, Sera catching him when he swayed.

'Bloody hell, can't this wait till morning? You haven't left the flat in a month and now—'

'You don't understand,' Dorian told her, shrugging out of her grip. 'This guy who's with him, he's the same one who broke in here, who's been stalking him all this time!'

'Well,' Alistair said, rubbing his neck. 'I mean, you might have a hard time proving that.'

'Why?'

'They caught the stalker two weeks ago.'

Dorian shook himself. 'Beg pardon?'

'Yeah,' Lana chimed in. 'It was in the news. Some guy who'd been sending threatening letters for years, making attempts to hack his accounts, even followed him around. They caught him.'

'They caught Jassen? I just spoke to—'

'Not Jassen,' Alistair said, brow creased with concern. 'Someone else.'

For a second, Dorian's mind ground to a halt. Someone _else_.

Was it really possible that he was wrong? That Jassen really was just a random dude? _Yeah_ , he'd been a dick on the phone but that was hardly proof positive, was it? Dorian took another second, closed his eyes and exhaled.

Did Cullen really need him riding in on a white horse like this? Or was it that he _wanted_ to go bounding in, wanted to see Cullen, talk to him? The man's life had fallen apart but Dorian had _left_ , he had no right to re-insert himself into the scene again, especially now that Cullen was vulnerable.

Except.

Fucking _except_ that Dorian could not sit idly by while someone he loved suffered. He couldn't stand back and let Cullen's life worsen, could not risk there being even one percent chance that Jassen _was_ a threat. Cullen could hate him for it if he wanted, could punch him in the fucking face for being so presumptuous, Dorian didn't care.

He cared more about Cullen than himself.

And he had to try.

'I know what I need to do,' he said in a voice that was far more measured now, more calm.

'OK, great.'

'Who has Fenris's number?'

*

Cullen fixed a forced smile in place. 'So, like I said, boring story, really.'

Jassen watched him evenly, the kind of way that could have been considered unsettling if Cullen were any less drunk or any more inclined to give a flying fuck about anything.

'Feel like you left a lot out.'

Cullen swigged the alcohol right from the bottle, not even bothering with a shot glass. A steady stream of _fuck it, fuck it, fuck everything_ thundered in time with the rhythm in the air. Telling even that tiny amount of his story to a man he barely knew was both exhilarating and gutting. He wanted to numb both, drown the sensations until they were dead, until he was dead inside, the way he _deserved_.

'She make you do the same things?' he asked Jassen, mouth tightening as he held the bottle much harder than necessary, baring his teeth for a moment in the after-burn. 'Holding her down and all that shit?'

Jassen blinked and gave a small shrug. 'Not really.'

'Why not?' Cullen asked before he could stop himself.

'Maybe she only wanted that from you,' the other man said, leaning closer, arms crossed before him on the table. 'Now that we're broken up, though, I can honestly say,' he took a deep breath. 'She treated me like shit. She didn't put me through what you endured but it was pretty bad sometimes. I should have got shot of her sooner. The restraining order was the last straw. Absolutely bullshit move to pull. You didn't deserve that.'

Blinking through the alcohol induced haze, Cullen studied Jassen as much as he cared to. He _was_ hard to read, especially now his guard was coming down. Cullen didn't find him disingenuous, fully believed that Madeline had treated him like shit because he knew what she was capable of. There was _more_ to Jassen, though. How strange to peel back a layer of someone who seemed to wear their heart on their sleeve… and find something far more withdrawn, reserved. Cold, almost.

A part of Cullen was undeniably attracted to it.

Jassen felt like someone who might _hurt_ him and in those moments, sat inside skin that was too tight, unworthy heart beating too fast, he wanted whatever pain Jassen seemed to quietly, discreetly offer, conveyed in a language of dark eyes and subtle intensity.

Cullen had always been drawn to intensity.

'You didn't have to stick around.'

'I wanted to.'

'Why?'

'Maybe I care.'

'I didn't ask you to care.'

Jassen laughed a little bit. 'You're fun when drunk.'

Cullen didn't look away. 'You should see me when I'm high.'

'We could do that if you want,' the other man offered lightly, easily, the way the devil might. 'But you won't. You have those performances tomorrow and you need to keep these, can't miss them.'

'Are you my new assistant, then?'

'I'm whatever you want, Cullen.'

'What if I want to fuck you?'

He didn't blink, didn't react outwardly but oh, something in the air between them _crackled_. Cullen felt like it was a game, holding one another at gunpoint, seeing who would look away first.

'You can't.'

'I _can_ 't?'

'You can't have me.'

'But you could fuck _me_ , is that it?'

'No.'

Cullen sat back, eyes narrowing slightly. 'You seriously brought me here to be my _friend_ and nothing else?'

Jassen leaned closer. The purple lights above stung the darkness, showed Cullen every tiny pore and imperfection in Jassen, light sheen of sweat from the dense heat of the club.

'Cullen,' he said, low and serious. 'You're too drunk to fuck. Come on, man. I wouldn't do that.'

Cullen's eyes moved rapidly between his. 'Yeah, you would.' Jassen's smile widened, like Cullen had passed a test. 'You're not a good guy, are you?'

'Never said I was.'

Another swig, more burn and more _numbness_. The rhythm called, begged Cullen to come play, to throw himself around with inexpert passion, to let go but he couldn't. He was caught, fucking _mesmerised_ by this man, this man who he'd… underestimated. It was like seeing the skin of a sheep _slip_ , catching just a tiny flash of dark fur and white teeth, of yellow eyes that watched and never blinked.

Something low and quiet, some instinct drowned by tequila, it warned that this man should not be trifled with, that Cullen should walk the fuck away and not look back. Jassen was _bad_ , he felt it.

'Gotta piss,' Cullen said, getting to his feet. He didn't look back, didn't say anything else, confident that Jassen would follow him.

Inside the bathroom of London's most exclusive and expensive club it was all blacklights and chalk paint. Piss you own art, write your name in the urinal. The things people spent money on. The things people thought other people _wanted_. Christ.

It was surprisingly grim. He'd half expected rose gold fixtures and white marble but no, it was gritty and dark and oddly _pleasing_ to his inwardly vindictive nature. For a while, he just stood there, alone and still with his thoughts. _Thoughts_ was a generous term really, considering it was more of a tornado, a swirling cyclone that grew more destructive with each cycle, becoming self-sustaining. There was a core, a colour at the centre of that moving mass.

When someone came and stood beside him who was too tall to be Jassen, Cullen glanced over, _Not Looking Down_ as was the well mastered art of all polite men.

It was the absolute _last_ person he wanted to see.

*

Fenris did not want to get into detail over the phone and Dorian understood, so they went to him. Fenris had offered repeatedly to come to his place, but Dorian was too fired up. He had to get out, go _do something_ some place that wasn't inside his loft.

The lure of action, of resolution and of seeing people who he'd missed so fucking much, those things combined to make one hell of a wall that even _his_ anxiety struggled to scale.

Sera and Lana quickly dressed, flatly refusing to stay behind and Alistair scrolled through his phone.

Dorian looked at it, focus flitting between the dent in Alistair's brow and the screen. 'Are the pictures still… everywhere?'

'Yeah,' the other man answered truthfully.

Carefully, Dorian asked, 'Why?'

'I think… they didn't want to involve you. To get them taken down, an injunction would have required your involvement.'

Stupid, _stupid_ self-sacrificing idiot that Cullen was, Dorian was so angry it stole his breath. He knew how much Cullen hated pictures of himself and he'd just _left_ them out there. For every five hundred of Cullen, there was maybe one of Dorian. Barely six pictures of them kissing under the duvet, smiles splitting the kisses because it was so _silly_ and Dorian… he shouldn't have done it, should never have taken them, but all the rest were of Cullen. He'd taken _so many_ pictures of him, moments captured in privacy and trust and painful intimacy that showed up so clear in pixels and colour, medium of the now, preserved for all time.

'Right,' he said, nodding tightly. 'Thank God you came here, Alistair.'

The red head smiled sadly. 'Feel like maybe I shouldn't have.'

'No,' Dorian said sharply. 'No, I… I needed to know this and I would never have asked the girls. Thank you for coming. For being a good friend.'

'I missed you.'

'You too. I'm sorry I didn't, before, y'know. It would have been too difficult.'

'Don't be silly. You did what you needed to.'

Dorian looked around unseeingly. 'How well it's worked out.'

'Not a crime to take care of yourself.'

He nodded, but did not believe that, not deep down. Self-preservation was one thing, but he didn't have to send Cullen that message. Guilt that ached like a fresh bruise, it flared and throbbed beneath his bones. Awful message, cold and cruel and so painfully _untrue._

 _Not your fault, not your fault_ , the others would tell him.

Only it didn't matter whose fault it was. Lack of _fault_ didn't mean he was satisfied to sit back and do nothing when the man he loved was drowning. He had to find him. Fucking had to.

The girls emerged together, suited and booted.

'Ready,' Lana said with a decisive nod. 'Let's go punch someone in the face.'

'I mean,' Dorian said haltingly. 'We're probably not punching anyone in the face.'

Lana sighed. 'A girl can dream.'

'We've got your back,' Sera told him, dropping a wink. 'Lead the way.'

*

The outside world was warm and pleasant, or so it seemed, as Dorian stood with the others, waiting for an Uber. This was the first time he’d been outside at ground level in a month and the world didn’t seem to have changed all that much. He was pleased that no one seemed to give him a second look as they went about their business, not paying any attention to him. But when the Uber parked further down the road and they walked to it, they passed a newsstand and Dorian _knew_ he shouldn’t have looked but he did.

Cullen was the front page story on the worst three offenders, the three papers that really got up in the morning and _worked_ to ruin lives. The pictures of him were all different, three large, unflattering shots of Cullen being either drunk or very tired, looking down or away. The headlines were bold and short, aimed at those who didn’t like to read more than five words at once.

 ** _Used Him, Abused Him_** **,** read The Sun.

 ** _Rutherford Threatens to Quit,_** read The Mirror.

 ** _Alt Star Court Date Set,_** read the Daily Mail.

Alistair firmly yanked Dorian away, into the car but those headlines were emblazoned into his mind the whole way there.

Fenris lived on the top floor of a flat in a block close to the _nice_ parts of London, not especially far from where Dorian himself lived. The shorter man opened the door. 

For a moment, Dorian just stood there in his doorway. There was a beat and that beat was all hesitation, thick and cloying because Fenris had only ever been kind to Dorian and he'd been not exactly _nice_ in his message, though markedly friendlier than the one he'd sent to Cullen, but—

Fenris broke the moment by gently hugging Dorian then. It was stark contrast to the urgency within Dorian, the pounding rhythm of _needing_ to get to Cullen, find him, make it all right somehow. Fenris was awake and alert, but he was dressed in night clothes, same ones Dorian had seen him wear a dozen times before and he seemed horribly resigned to it all whereas Dorian wanted to _rail_.

'Come in,' he said and before Dorian could think to explain that he'd also brought along his two best friends and _Alistair_ , Fenris smiled tiredly at them all, Alistair included. 'I'll make tea.'

Dorian paced. The flat was small, tiny really. The living room had sofas enough for three or four at a push, but it was clear that this was a _retreat_. A place of safety, intended for one. Fenris made tea and Dorian wanted to scream that Cullen needed him, that he was in danger, what the fuck was Fenris doing making _tea_ when Jassen was with Cullen, God knows where doing God knows what?

But Dorian trusted Fenris, knew how much he cared for Cullen.

'Alistair filled you in?'

'Told him what I know,' the redhead offered. 'Which isn't much.'

Fenris handed out teas to everyone and then looked at Dorian.

'I'm really sorry,' he simply said and Dorian understood. Sorry for what he'd been through, for what had happened, for the last month. Fenris was not the kind to ask how he was, wouldn't put pressure on Dorian to lie.

'Thank you,' Dorian said, hand on his shoulder for a brief moment. 'Fenris, I need to see him.'

Fenris sighed and sat down in a narrow, but very plush chair. 'I knew you'd want to eventually. I know where he is, obviously, but he doesn't want to see me, or Lee, or anyone.'

'Fenris,' Dorian said, sitting beside Lana. 'What _happened?_ Did he really fire you?'

The white haired man nodded. 'He has a history of isolating himself when spiralling. I thought we'd be able to overcome it this time, but he's… hmm, learnt a few things. New tricks.'

It was a question Dorian really didn't want the answer to. 'Why is he spiralling?'

Fenris took a breath and inclined his head. 'The press have always had a certain fixation with him, an unpleasant one, especially considering how little he usually gives them to play with. When the label sued for breach of contract, they got wind of it within minutes. Everything is exaggerated, all the headlines are grossly misshapen but people don't care about the truth when lies are printed in bold capitals,' Fenris sneered quietly. 'Cascading failures, you know the term?'

Sera snorted. 'We call it a cluster fuck.'

Dorian spoke with urgency. 'Jassen's with him, you know that, right?'

Fenris grimaced. 'That's become complicated.'

'Because you found someone else who was stalking Cullen.'

'I did everything I could to prove that Jassen wasn't who he said he was, that he was in any way responsible for the things that happened, but I couldn't.'

'But… you believe me, right?'

'Yes.'

'Christ, then how could you just leave Cullen alone with him? I called him and that _fucker_ answered his phone, told me Cullen didn't _need_ me anymore.'

Holding the mug with both hands, Fenris levelled Dorian with a look. 'I won't lie, Dorian. Ever since you left, Cullen has been a wreck. That's made him vulnerable, left us scrambling, operating on the back-foot. Jassen befriended him, slowly and surely. Dorky, non-threatening background character who asked nothing of Cullen, only offered comfort. Cullen has never been a very…' Fenris sighed again. 'Good judge of character. Jassen broke up with Madeline last week when she filed a restraining order, or so I heard.'

'When did Cullen fire you?'

'Nine days ago.'

Dorian shook his head, unable to reconcile it, _any_ of it.

'Who is this guy, Jassen?' Sera asked seriously.

Expression darkening, Fenris said, 'The more I try to dig up, the less I find. It's like a circle, contracting around me every time I think I peel back a layer. I don't know who he is, but his background, the squeaky clean one, is cast iron and there isn't a single flaw in any of his records. I know there's something wrong with him, your instincts are not mistaken. I have to conclude that he is, at least on some level, a professional.'

Dorian did not like that word.

'The last time I tried digging was around the time that Madeline started refusing to let Cullen see or even talk to Sophia and his drinking was getting worse. The next day, I get this alert of someone trying to hack us, our private accounts and when I traced it, it led to a man named Aiden Wakelin.'

Alistair blinked. 'His old agent?'

'The guy's walls were papered with Cullen's face, with carefully constructed bitterness, with actual newspaper clippings, aged and dated. He was in possession of technology far beyond his ken. The same cloning device I use, all manner of code on his laptop, contacts with other hackers. The scene was gift-wrapped.'

'Was it _not_ this guy then?' Lana asked.

'See, some of it was. Aiden admitted to low levels of stalking. He didn't call it that, obviously. Seemed convinced he was owed money, that there were contractual irregularities outstanding from when he represented Cullen and he'd simply been trying to get in contact with him. He wrote Cullen letters, bricked his window a few times and he definitely tried to hack his bank account more than once.'

' _But?'_

'But it's not the same person who got into Cullen's place early this year, got past security systems that _I_ designed. Not the same person who's hacked us in the past. They never _did_ anything, understand. Just slipped through. Left a taunting little message in the code to point out that it had been easy. Fucking with us. Same person who broke into your place without being seen. That's not Aiden and he said as much. Denied that he knew where the tech had come from, the clippings. He insisted he’d been drugged, woke up to find his place like that.'

'That's Jassen, right?'

'My gut tells me it's him, yeah, but so far, there is absolutely no way of proving it. He hasn't left a single footprint and whatever else you might say about him,' Fenris sneered. 'He's one hell of an actor.'

'You told Cullen this?'

'All this and much more. He wasn't listening by that point. Not to me, Josie, Lee, anyone. He believed Aiden had been the one to hack your phone and drop the pictures, revenge for Cullen booting him, end of story.'

'Fenris,' Dorian said seriously. 'Have you thought about like… grabbing Jassen and shipping him off somewhere?'

'Of course,' Fenris answered, frowning as if mildly insulted. 'But you're not hearing me. If this _is_ Jassen, then he's a step or two above me. His records are pristine. I've never seen hacking like it. Part of me can't fully reconcile that stalking Cullen is even his true endgame, he's too big a fish. Too talented. I think if this is him, then he's a professional, like I said.'

'Professional… what?'

'A _professional_. Like me.'

Dorian thought of Lee smiling and saying, " _you're a trained killer, sweetie,"_ to Fenris.

'You think he's a fucking assassin?'

'Wait, are _you_ an assassin?' Lana squeaked.

'No, I'm not a bloody assassin,' Fenris complained. 'And not quite so clunky a title, but essentially, I think what we're dealing with here is someone who is far more than we realise. Not just a stalker, not just a hacker.'

'Then how the hell could you leave him?' Dorian burst out. 'Fucking hell, if he's with a-a motherfucking _professional_ then how could you—'

'He told us to leave, he _fired_ us. Even I have limits,' Fenris answered quietly. 'I can't stay where he doesn't want me. He has security of his own now. He can do whatever he wants. He's still Cullen Rutherford at the end of the day. He never throws his weight around normally, but now… well, there isn't anything I can do if he really, truly doesn't want me there, beyond keeping an eye on him.'

Grey, metallic sickness churned within. 'I need to see him,' Dorian said hoarsely.

Fenris surveyed Dorian over the rim of his mug. 'What will you say to him?'

'I'll—I'll just—' Dorian stuttered because _OK_ , he hadn't really thought about what he'd say, not actually given it a ton of consideration. 'I don't know, but I'll know it when I see him.'

'Have you considered the thought he might not want to see you?'

'I don't care. He would never let me suffer like this.'

Gently, Fenris said, 'I think it's a bad idea. Cullen's life is under a microscope right now. Everything he does is in the media, even this stupid _club_ Jassen took him to, there's pictures leaking which should be impossible, but they're already on Twitter.'

Alistair nodded grimly in agreement. Dorian's heart skipped a beat.

'Show me.'

'You… probably don't want to see them.'

' _Show_ me, please.'

Alistair handed Dorian his phone, open in the Twitter app and there, dark and blurry but oh so undeniably _him,_ was Cullen. Fourth picture he’d seen in less than fifteen minutes.

'Fuck.'

He was clearly drunk, smiling with his eyes closed and he had one hand in Jassen's hair. In his _hair._

It was intimate and garish and Dorian wanted to fucking scream but keeping his feelings just beneath the surface because he had no _right_ to be jealous, to feel a sick twist of anger at how close Cullen was to Jassen.

He'd sent Cullen that message, hadn't he?

_Your life is not my concern and mine is not yours. We're not friends. We're not anything anymore. You go your way and I'll go mine._

He was the one who'd said it. Cullen was the one actually _doing_ it. Just with the wrong fucking person.

'Where is this club?'

'You won't get in.'

Dorian half glared at Fenris. 'We can break in, _you've_ got skills.'

'This is not a good idea. Cullen is drunk, he's defensive as it is. Jassen is an unknown variable and we don't know how Cullen would even react.'

Shaking his head, Dorian showed Fenris the phone, ' _That_ 's Jassen he's dancing with, Jassen he's drinking with! Do you see it?'

'Dorian—'

'Where's Lee, get her here, get Josie too, we can stage an intervention or whatever the fuck but I am _not_ sitting around waiting anymore. I will not abandon him. Not until I've tried everything. Not until he tells me to go.'

'Lee won't even speak to me, I highly doubt she'll want to come along and Josie is spending a few well-earned days with her family. Rosalie has been trying to contact him but,' Fenris sighed. 'He's good at dodging us. Plenty of practise in the past. His brother, Branson, has been trying too, but he's… got his own set of problems right now. Cullen tends to withdraw when he thinks there's a possibility his own injury could cause issue for others.'

'Look,' Dorian said loudly, lifting his hands. 'I'm sick of going in circles, I don't need to know anymore. Please, _please_ either get me in there to speak to him or—'

'I can get you in,' Alistair offered quietly and Fenris gave him a dull glare. 

Dorian whipped around. 'You can?'

'I know someone who can get me in, you along with me.'

'And us,' Sera insisted.

'I mean, that's pushing it, but maybe.'

'Dorian,' Fenris said firmly. 'Don't do this. Tomorrow, he's performing, do you realise that? If you really want to talk to him, wait until then.'

'He’s _performing_? I thought—'

'He can't afford to miss this one and he knows it. Money will be a problem soon with what he's being sued for plus all the…' Fenris waved vaguely. 'Legal stuff. He wouldn't care for himself, but if he doesn't perform here, it'll strike a serious blow and, the way he thinks, will affect us.'

'Because you all share your money.'

'We always have.'

'That's why you didn't want the WhatsApp messages dropping?' Sera asked Fenris. 'Tax fraud, right?'

'No, we pay all our taxes and then some. Cullen would never hold out like that. Lee's creative use of investments is the underlying cause for concern. If anyone started poking around, things could come to light that we don't want made public. There's more to it than just money.'

'You've been working with Morrigan,' Alistair said.

'We've had to, to protect those _interests._ Another reason why Cullen will be performing tomorrow. Morrigan's services do not come cheap.'

'Y'know,' Alistair said, quite coolly, brow lifting. 'You could have _asked_ me to help you in this instance. Morrigan is one of my best friends. She'd have probably done it for far less if I asked, maybe even free.'

Fenris gave him a very flat look. 'We had bigger priorities than the size of the bill.'

'I'm just saying, you could have swallowed your pride and asked. I would have helped.'

'I know you're here with Dorian,' Fenris said very quietly after a few beats of tense silence. 'But do me a favour and keep in mind that there's pretty much only one reason you'd get a call from us, usually.'

'Hey,' Dorian warned. 'Don't talk to him like that.'

'OK, less of the pissing contest, yeah?' Lana snapped, looking between the men. 'Priorities, hello?'

Fenris looked away first. 'Sorry.'

Alistair examined his fingernails. 'S'fine.'

Sera looked between them. 'Are we breaking into this club or not?'

Fenris said, 'He'll be at the _Wireless_ festival tomorrow.’

 _'_ Dorian can't go there,' Lana said, like it was obvious.

'I'm not suggesting he _attend_ the festival, I'm pointing out that Cullen will be accessible if Dorian wants to try and see him and he'll be somewhat _sober_ , which is the point.'

'But he'll have security,' Dorian argued.

'Exactly, so if you try something Jassen doesn't like, I.E. tell Cullen to get away from him, there's less chance of Jassen risking exposure by attacking.'

Dorian rubbed his face. 'Fuck. Fenris you'll have to come tonight as well, protect Cullen best you can and I'll… try to get him alone.'

'Dorian—'

'I can't go to _Wireless_.'

'Definitely _not_ ,' Sera and Lana agreed in perfect sync. Dorian glanced over at them, took in the ferocity of their agreement, the wary hesitation and he groaned.

'Oh, for _fuck's sake_.'

*

'Been a while,' _Bull_ said, teeth gleaming in the blacklight. 'I'd ask how you been, but…'

He trailed off, pissing aggressively beside Cullen who had finished and was now mentally calculating how difficult it would be to reach down Hardiss fucking Lilbourn's throat and pull his guts out of his smirking mouth. Such anger rarely came for Cullen, very rarely took his breath away but this… this was an anger untouched by guilt or complexity.

Righteous, pure and true. The prick who'd hurt _him_ , who'd tried to break him.

'You gonna punch me?' the lumbering dickhead chuckled. 'Lemme piss first and then we'll go at it, sound good? Not had a decent fight in ages, believe me.'

'Why? Harder to find people to abuse once you posted a video of yourself cheating?'

'Hey, not my fault the kid liked it rough,' he said, gravelly baritone setting Cullen's teeth on edge. It would be well worth tanking what remained of his career, of his _life_ to beat the living fuck out of this man. 'Guess you'd know first-hand now, eh? Finally got what you wanted after years of eyeing him up whenever our paths crossed. Bet you didn't tell him that, huh? I mean, I hear you're on the outs. Papers say you're the bad guy, say you used him and tossed him aside, but,' the larger man chuckled and lowered his voice enough to still be heard over the noise from outside. 'I know for a fact that kid loves the drama, _loves_ being the centre of attention.'

'You should shut your mouth.'

'Heard that said once or twice. Never seen you here before. Needed a break from the flashing lights, huh?'

A strange compulsion had Cullen rooted to the spot. He knew, objectively, that he should _leave_. This man was purposefully taunting him, teasing him about… things he didn't want to think of, _peopl_ e he didn't want to remember just then, and yet, he found it hard to move. Anger had him in a choke-hold.

'Yeah, don't blame you,' Bull went on as if Cullen had actually said a word. 'It's rough. I went through the same kinda thing last year, lotta negative press for what I did, but you just gotta push on. Project success.'

'Go fuck yourself,' Cullen said, although it was the tip of the iceberg because he wanted to say so much more, _do_ so much more.

He laughed at that, booming and strong. 'Don't need to, man. Got a cadre of _fans_ out there waiting. Gorgeous things, they are, but still,' he sighed dramatically. 'None of 'em fuck like he did. You should'a _had_ him back in his glory days, God, he was somethin' then. Not like he is now, shadow of himself.' Bull laughed, shaking his dick now he was done and tucking it away. 'Heard he can't even listen to music anymore, what a fucking—'

Cullen had never been good at throwing punches. Fenris showing him multiple times how to avoid breaking his hand was probably all that saved his wrist and his bones, but it _hurt_ all the same. Bull reeled back from it, stumbled just a tiny bit because Cullen _had_ put everything he had into it, but he mostly seemed pleased for the attention. Cullen was drunk, could barely focus on a spot without it slipping to the left.

'Well, come on then, pretty boy,' he teased, low and rough.

'You're disgusting,' Cullen spat, trembling all over. 'What you did to him… you're a piece of shit, nothing more.'

'So in _love_ , listen to you. I saw how you looked at him through the camera. You opened yourself up and he betrayed you, huh?'

'He would never—'

'Maybe he just missed the spotlight,' Bull cut across, grinning widely, posture subtly shifting into something combative and the darkness in Cullen _yearned_ for it, to fight, to smash his fists and break something, some _one,_ even if it was a fight he couldn't win. 'But don't worry, I've got a little surprise of my own planned tomorrow that'll get him the _views_ he's been missing.'

Cullen didn't realise how fast he was moving forward until firm arms encircled his waist, hauling him back. He struggled as Bull laughed. Cullen yelled and he shoved, trying to get Fenris off him, except it wasn't Fenris, was it?

No, just Jassen.

The man was surprisingly strong and he manoeuvred Cullen away, putting himself between the two. 'Don't hurt him,' Jassen said told him, eyes blazing, something weirdly _playful_ and yet passionate about him. Cullen could barely hear anything over the dull thud of that base, that _grind_ and the roar of his own blood, but he heard it when Jassen said, 'That's what I'm here for.'

He spun around so quick that Cullen barely had time to realise what was happening. Jassen's booted foot smacked across Bull's face, powerful and fast, sending his face reeling to the side, a wide arc of spit spraying in satisfying fashion and before the bigger man could react, Jassen followed up with a vicious punch right between his legs, perfectly aimed.

Hardiss Lilbourn was six foot six but he went down like all men, crumpled in half, expression contorted in pure agony that made the darkness within Cullen purr, eager for more.

Jassen wasn't quite done. With Bull curled up defensively on his knees, Jassen swung his leg again, so fast, so much _power_ in it and this time when it connected with that face, that _jaw_ , Cullen definitely heard a crack, even over the thundering pulse of the club. A tooth went flying, skittering into the corner of the bathroom and Bull went down. Three hits and he was out cold. _Three_.

With the toe of the same boot that had kicked his face, Jassen nudged him a few times and then looked back at Cullen, smug and predatory. Cullen couldn't help but think of a cat who'd brought in a half dead bird, expecting praise.

'The fuck?' Cullen blurted out, breathless and lightheaded. 

'The bigger they come,' Jassen shrugged, moving closer to Cullen and it was dizzying when he took hold of his chin, drew Cullen's gaze down, demanding his full attention in a way he never had before. Jassen's thumb traced his scar, parted his lips and for a moment, Cullen tasted salt and lime, tequila and sweat. 'Harder they fall.'

'You hurt him,' was all Cullen managed to say. Jassen nodded in understanding, not blinking, he _never_ blinked.

'Want me to kill him for you?' the dark haired man offered, words that should not, in any way shape or form, be seductive and yet they were. Maybe it was the drink, the music, the adrenaline, the _fuck it_ path he was walking lately, a road with only one destination, but Cullen keened just slightly, swayed a little and Jassen's hand on his chin slid up his cheek, the other steadying him at the shoulder. Jassen was so, so intense and Cullen simply couldn't _care_ about where it would lead anymore. 'No,' Jassen said, as if admonishing himself, eyes glittering in the blacklight. 'No, that would be _wrong_ , wouldn't it? Good people don't kill.'

'You're not good,' Cullen said, caught in a trance, caught in the gaze of something serpentine, hypnotic and relentless.

Fingers fanned into his hair and Jassen was short enough that Cullen had to angle down now. 'What am I?'

On the back of a thick, heavy swallow, Cullen breathed, 'You're a bad guy.'

'Hmm,' Jassen said, clearly pleased with that answer. 'But am I _the_ bad guy?'

Cullen didn't understand, didn't know what that meant but behind Jassen, Bull was stirring, grunting.

Jassen threw a glance over his shoulder and then looked back at Cullen. 'More?'

Cullen wanted to say yes. Wanted this person, this wolf who wore the guise of a man, to beat Hardiss Lilbourn black and fucking _blue_ , make him regret every bad thing he ever did to… to Dorian.

Dorian.

 _Dorian_.

Fuck.

The moment he let himself think the name, it was like cold water down his back. He shook himself from Jassen's grip, talented fingers gone lax and easy now, as if he hadn't been pulling Cullen's hair just a tiny bit, as if they hadn't been about to kiss.

'No,' he said, scrambling for control and somewhat shocked to see how close he'd been to answering differently. Dorian's memory, the mere thought of him was like a lifeline back to somewhere resembling safety. A tiny island in a dark, moonless ocean. 'He's not worth it.'

Jassen's eyes moved between his. 'People rarely are.'

Cullen didn't step away, weirdly didn't feel the need to, but he said, 'I think I'm really drunk.'

It was _cowardly_ , shrugging off responsibility for the moment, for the situation and for the first time that night, Cullen's total inability to care about anything, _fractured_ somewhat.

Bull was rolling onto his side, groaning. Jassen didn't seem concerned, expression morphing into a friendly smile. 'Yeah, y'are. C'mon, you need some sleep.'

Deceptively strong arms wrapped around Cullen then, guiding him away from the scene. Cullen let himself be guided.

'Won't be able to sleep, never can lately.'

'You'll sleep. Let's get a nightcap an then we'll head up,' Jassen assured him, holding the door open for him the way Fenris had done a million times before. 'Big day tomorrow.'

*

In theory, Fenris was right. Dorian knew superior logic when he was presented with it. Going in hot, this late when Cullen was drunk and in the company of a potential _professional_ was not a good plan and Fenris had declined to be involved, had all but begged Dorian to wait. Solid, superior logic, but that didn't mean he had to _listen_ to it.

Sometime around two AM, Alistair's call to three _friends_ finally paid off, but only for himself and Dorian. There was no way whatsoever to guarantee entry for the girls. They had (moodily) agreed to stand guard outside a building opposite the club.

The _club_ , if it could even be called that because the entrance was in a _literal toilet_ like something out of a movie about underground vampires or whatever the fuck, was heaving and pulsing. They'd had their phones taken at one of the many stops along the way, were given wrist bands that would allow them to retrieve their belongings and also to buy drinks. They signed something that Dorian recognised on sight as an NDA.

'Anything else?' he snapped at the bouncer. 'Should I sign it in blood?'

'Don't mind him,' Alistair purred soothingly when the bouncer frowned at Dorian. 'Bratty bottom.'

Dorian kept the worst of his scowl at bay as they were finally permitted entry into the ever descending nightclub, emerging onto a dance-floor where everyone was jumping up and down, mosh pit style, to something that he supposed passed for music, the bass was so low and so loud it churned in his ribcage. Apocalyptic symphony of minor keys and absolute _noise_ , but somewhere amongst these twats, Cullen might be nearby.

With Sera and Lana guarding the exit from across the street, determined to catch him if he slipped by, Dorian licked his lips and Alistair firmly took hold of his hand.

'Let's not split up, eh?' he yelled. 'No phones.'

Dorian nodded in understanding, and they began to search.

Alistair seemed to recognise, and indeed, _know_ a lot of the people who'd paid extravagant sums of money to throw themselves about in a flop sweat. Dorian didn't recognise any of them, maybe one or two faces, but didn't know any names.

Beneath the firm surface of _determination_ to take action and help Cullen, ran a vein of utter terror. His motherfucking _ex_ was playing at _Wireless_ the next day, was in London, was _around_ somewhere in the city and Dorian just couldn't stand the idea of running into him.

_Get Cullen, find Cullen, save Cullen._

It was all he cared about.

Holding hands, they weaved a path through the bodies all the way to a glowing neon bar and several highly rude bartenders. Alistair ordered two drinks, the guy scanning his wristband before pouring generous, unmeasured amounts into pretty coloured glass.

'Can we ask them?' Dorian yelled in his ear.

'No,' Alistair answered. 'It's their job _not_ to tell who's here and who isn't. Whole place is all about anonymity and lack of privilege.'

Dorian gestured to the crowd. 'What about one of these idiots?'

'If they've even noticed.'

Ignoring the sting of hopelessness, Dorian turned fully in a circle, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of blond hair, but it was hard to see anything in the neon streaked darkness.

' _Fuck_ ,' he said right at the same time that Alistair grabbed his arm, sudden and fast.

Dorian spun around, heart jumping right up into his throat but it wasn't Cullen. Fucking _of course_ it wasn't Cullen.

Harry was coming from somewhere to the left of the bar, bloody rag pressed against his nose and mouth. A cavalcade of girls, few boys too, rushed to him but he didn't seem especially eager to be on the receiving end of their attentions. He was irritated, Dorian remembered all too well how he moved and how he held himself when angry, shallow reserve of barely controlled patience that would explode as soon as they were alone.

It was only by the grace of whatever intelligence remained within Dorian then that he didn't _duck_ , because by God the urge was strong. He sort of _hid_ behind Alistair, who was tall enough to assist.

'Fucking Christ, what happened to him?'

Dorian didn't have to wonder, not really. If someone had hurt Harry, it had to be Cullen. Where was he _now_? That was what concerned him. And how the fuck had he _done_ that to Harry? Despite himself, Dorian was impressed. Cullen was strong, was well built but Christ alive, Harry was a _unit._

 _'Shit,_ shit, shit, he's coming over here.'

Literally, _of course._

'Cullen needs you,' Dorian whispered to himself, eyes screwed tight shut, heart absolutely on the verge of cracking his ribs. 'He needs you, fucking hold it together, _please_.'

'No, wait, wait!'

'I'm literally _hiding_ behind you, what else could I—?'

'He's gone, OK. You're all good. I think he left. Went out the way we came in. Oh look, Billie's laughing at him! I really do like her, so _real_.'

Dorian exhaled in a controlled way, mostly to stop himself from passing the fuck _out_. Of all the many times he'd told himself that whatever endeavour he'd undertaken had been a _bad idea_ , this had to be one of the very worst.

Fenris had been completely right. What was he _thinking?_

'For God's sake,' he muttered, voice trembling just a bit. He put his hand over his eyes and Alistair gave him a half hug.

Dorian tried not to let himself think of how truly _unbearable_ that would have been, seeing him again in such a place. How many times had they been in clubs together? How many trips to the _bathroom_ had there been?

'Hey,' Alistair said, tightening his hug. 'You OK?'

Mutely, Dorian shook his head, determinedly not looking up because that would be embarrassing as all out hell, crying in the most expensive, exclusive club in London, surrounded by all manner of _celebrities_ he didn't even know for the most part.

'Shall we leave?'

A tiny nod from Dorian had Alistair taking him by the hand again, sliding off his barstool when suddenly he paused, grip tightening.

'Dorian.’ The way he said it, Dorian just _knew_. He whirled around so fast he almost cricked his neck, eyes damp and infuriatingly blurry as he cast around for the person he most wanted to see in the world.

It was Cullen, Dorian would know him _anywhere,_ that pretty mop of golden hair. He was leaning heavily on Jassen and they too were _leaving_ , but going a different way.

Dorian started forward so fast he almost tripped. Alistair steadied him and they hurried forward through the annoying mass of heaving bodies. Cullen was far, maybe too far and he just couldn't _get_ there. He started pushing, heedless of the people who turned and complained, he had to reach Cullen before he vanished.

Jassen made a sudden turn and they were _gone_. Dorian flat out shoved people aside, scrambled through what gap he'd created and followed the path carved by Jassen and Cullen in tow.

A dark, less crowded corridor allowed Dorian to run right into a bouncer who guarded the door at the end, arms crossed, frown in place.

'You have a room?'

'A—a what? No, I just need to—he's being kidnapped, I need to—'

'Dorian,' Alistair warned pleasantly. 'No, we don't have a room, but we have an invite.' He extended his wrist, allowing the bouncer to scan it. The large man did so, eyeing Dorian suspiciously. Alistair said, 'He's just really into the hero fantasy,' with a reassuring wink.

The bouncer rolled his eyes and the scanner beeped, granting permission. 'One hour in room nine. No more.'

Alistair flashed a bright, gleaming smile. 'Of course.'

Once inside the lift, clear glass with neon scribbles all over it, Dorian asked, 'Are they in room nine?'

'No,' Alistair muttered. 'That's the room my friend gave us a _visitation_ booking for. If you can, try and take a few deep breaths. This place sees some weird shit, but they're not stupid. Level out, OK? Even if you have to fake it.'

Dorian could do that, for Cullen he could do that.

The lift stopped, doors gliding open and together, they warily stepped out. 'You've been here before?'

'Few times.'

'How do we know which—?'

Alistair knocked at one of the doors, five each side and one at the end. The British woman who answered was instantly recognisable and Dorian was vaguely _astonished_ to see an actress of her calibre in such a place, but then he saw her tall husband walk past, asking in his very American accent if the room service had remembered extra towels.

'Ah, my apologies,' Alistair said with his award winning smile. 'Wrong room! Love that quiet film, by the way!'

Dorian was really starting to question the nature of his reality with every door they opened. He already knew, by simple law of deduction and the fact that the room at the end was likely to be bigger and more expensive, where Cullen and Jassen were, but Alistair was thorough.

'Won't anyone—?'

'No cameras,' Alistair answered easily. 'No cameras anywhere.'

'That can't be right.'

'That's what they pay for.'

'What if someone gets hurt?'

'That's why they sign NDA's. In here, they're not celebrities. They can buy what they want, but they don't get special treatment. Like, you didn't see security searching to find who hurt that prick, did you? Sometimes people get really hurt.'

Dorian thought of the young men and women who'd flocked around Harry and he winced. Not that cameras had ever protected Dorian anyway, but _still_. Trust his piece of shit ex to come to such a place.

The door at the end stood large and ominous, the hallway mostly quiet save for the dull thud of music from beneath, heartbeat of that grim, awful place.

'Stand there,' Alistair said, nodding to the side of the door. Dorian moved where he was told, out of sight from the peephole.

Alistair knocked and waited.

The door opened a crack, blue light spilling out into the hallway.

'Yeah?'

Alistair, bless his cotton fucking socks, didn't give Jassen a single second. He shoved his full weight against the door and Dorian joined him, the pair barging inside. Dorian had really been expecting resistance, for Jassen to attempt to close the door. He hadn't been expecting Jassen to neatly step _aside_ and grant them entry which led to Dorian and Alistair crashing into the cool room, all lit up with pale blue, landing heavily on the carpet.

'Well, hello.' Jassen greeted calmly, closing the door behind them. 'Do come in.'

Dorian was up in an instant, helping Alistair and ignoring the way his knee throbbed, having landed directly on it. 'Where is he?'

Jassen did not seem remotely surprised to see them. He had a drink in one hand and with the other, he indicated to the bed.

The bed where Cullen was sitting, staring slack jawed at the scene before him.

'Cullen,' Dorian heard himself utter, body seizing. 'Cullen, are you—?'

He cut off the words when Cullen shook himself, blinking hard. Dorian saw those lips shape his name, but it was silent, dense frown forming on his pretty brow.

Jassen said nothing, did nothing.

Dorian's amazing plan came to a grinding halt. He felt abruptly stupid and painfully childish. Fenris had never been so right. He should have done this tomorrow. Broad daylight with a sober Cullen, preferably _away_ from the man whose cool gaze felt like prickly steel against Dorian's skin. _Not_ in the place with no cameras, no safety, no cavalry should Jassen try anything… professional.

'Cullen,' Jassen said and Dorian _hated_ the warm, intimate way he said it. 'You've got visitors.'

This close, in the pale blue light from neon strips on the walls, Dorian could see how Cullen's skin glistened, how fucking _huge_ his pupils were. He could smell Cullen's aftershave and something else, something that might have belonged to the other man.

Cullen was staring dully as if Dorian was an art piece that he could not decipher but at Jassen's words, his gaze slid to Alistair and he broke into a huge, glazed smile.

' _Alistair_!'

Cullen got to his feet, clumsy and awkward, almost toppling right off the side of the bed. He stumbled forward, reaching for Alistair, who met him halfway. Cullen pulled him into a very clingy hug meanwhile Dorian tried not to feel insanely _hurt,_ reminded himself he had no right to.

'Hey,' Alistair said gently. 'You OK?'

'What you doin' here?' Cullen asked and Dorian had never heard him slur like that. Jassen watched everything, impassive and unmoved, drink in hand. 'Missed seein' you around, you w-wanna get drunk wi'mme?'

'Uh, not today, big guy,' Alistair laughed tightly, looking to Dorian for guidance. 'Cullen, do you want to come outside with us, maybe? I could take you home.'

Cullen shook his head, both hands on Alistair's shoulders as he smiled the kind of smile that threatened to break Dorian's heart.

'Don't have a _home_ , silly.'

'OK, well,' Alistair said, rubbing his upper arms but also subtly holding him _up_. 'Where have you been living?'

'Not talking to them,' he said, shaking his head which resulted in his whole body swaying dangerously, but Alistair was tall and strong, he had him. ''S'all hotels now.' Cullen pouted sadly. 'Hate hotels when I'm alone.'

Dorian had the most distinct impression that Cullen was purposefully _not_ looking at him now. Cullen whispered something else to Alistair and then tightened his arms around him, half falling into a hug that Alistair managed to endure without stumbling.

'He thinks you're not real,' the redhead told Dorian, half rolling his eyes. 'He's real, Cullen, look. We came to find you.'

Cullen shook his head and buried his face in Alistair's neck which was when Jassen approached and all of Dorian's instincts came flaring to life.

'Don't come _near_ him,' he growled, as threatening as he could make it without resorting to violence.

Dark eyes slid over Dorian, top to bottom, flicking casually over Alistair also and Dorian did not know how he'd ever been fooled into thinking that this man was anything other than what he was.

'Or what?'

Now he was looking at Jassen, really _seeing_ him. A picture had been one thing, blurry and dark, only the outline of his jaw and hairstyle making it clear to Dorian who it was dancing with Cullen, but this was him in the flesh. He seemed so different. Jassen had been a poorly dressed, well-meaning doofus, the kind who wore socks with sandals and even though Dorian knew it had been a lie, he hadn't been ready to see him like _this_. So relaxed, so _easy_. His posture was all too similar to Fenris's and that word, _professional,_ kept running through Dorian's head.

'If you touch him again,' Dorian said, giving it all the strength he had. 'I'll _end_ you.'

Jassen moved forward and Dorian threw his hand out, pressing into Jassen's chest, poor method of keeping him at bay. Beneath Dorian's palm, Jassen's heartbeat was steady and slow.

Cullen was still clinging to Alistair, was wrapped around him to an extent that Dorian could see the other man struggling to hold him without falling.

'Need some help?' Jassen offered politely and Dorian _shoved_ as hard as he could, pushing Jassen away but it felt futile. The man didn't even stumble, didn't even spill his fucking drink. Dorian helped Alistair get Cullen back to the side of the bed where he'd been before. He sat heavily, letting out a huffing sob. This close, he could actually hear some of what Cullen was muttering.

'… told him all about it which… definitely not good, was it? It's never good, always best to _not_ , never learn, I never… why won't he go away? Dun wanna see him anymore, make it stop.'

Dorian so wanted it to be _Jassen_ who Cullen didn't want to see any more but he knew deep down who it really was.

Jassen poured three drinks, even amounts of something clear and he left two on the tiny tabletop near the minibar.

'Cullen,' he said. 'Want a drink?'

Cullen looked away from Alistair, his eyes red and his face blotchy. In this light, Dorian could see how wasted he truly was. He could barely keep his focus, he was blinking unevenly and Alistair was genuinely holding him up at this point.

Cullen slurred, ''s it really just water this time?'

'OK,' Dorian said loudly, fast losing his ability to calmly deal with any of this insanity. 'OK, Cullen? Cullen, I need you to look at me.'

Cullen sulked. 'Go away, I don' wanna see you, not fair. Ali, make him go away.' He tried to hide in Alistair even more but turning so much had him almost slipping off the bed. Dorian reached for him again, catching him around the waist this time, shirt rucked up, skin exposed. Cullen was _heavy_ and fuck, but he was scalding hot to the touch, feverish almost. Dorian pulled him back securely on the bed and Cullen let out another sob, childlike and so _sad._

'Dorian, he's not just drunk,' Alistair said quietly.

Intimate proximity meant that Dorian could taste the alcohol on Cullen's breath, could smell the salt in his sweat. Cullen refused to look at Dorian, kept turning away and when he blinked, tears ran down his face.

Trying to keep his voice steady, Dorian asked, 'Cullen, did you take something? Come on, darling, tell me, it's OK.'

'S'bad water,' he said, hands coming to loosely wrap around Dorian's forearms, even as he refused to look at him. 'Bad guy.'

That time, Dorian _knew_ he was talking about Jassen.

'You want to come with us?'

Cullen whimpered and shook his head.

'G'way. Can't.'

'Cullen,' Dorian said very clearly, the drunk and possibly drugged man sandwiched between Alistair and himself on the edge of the bed. 'Do you want us to get you out of here?'

'You can come back to my place,' Alistair offered. 'Stay as long as you like. It's nice. Lots of tea, there.'

Cullen seemed to actually be considering it and then he burst into tears, turning fully into Alistair again, pulling away from Dorian. It left Dorian cold and sick, insides knotted up.

'I can't,' he sobbed quietly. 'Can't, you're hers and I… I want to keep them safe. Need to keep them safe.' He pulled back, nose touching Alistair's when he uttered, 'I messed up your shoes, y'remember?'

Alistair swallowed and nodded, trying to smile. 'I remember.'

'Should keep you safe too,' Cullen sighed sadly, pressing his cheek against Alistair's, hugging him tight. Cullen had always been naturally tactile with those he loved. ''S'lonely, though. You're so nice to cuddle. Will you make him go away?'

'Who?'

'Dorian.'

'Cullen, honey, he's not a hallucination, OK? He's really there.'

Cullen shook his head. 'Nu-uh.'

'Have a drink,' Jassen prompted, approaching the bed. 'It's just water.'

Dorian wanted to take the glass from his hands and smash it right in his fucking face.

Cullen croaked, 'OK,' and pulled away, reaching for the glass.

Primal fear spiralling, Dorian said, 'Maybe—'

But Cullen had already taken it, was gulping it down and when the now empty container slipped through his fingers, Alistair took it, sniffing the glass.

'I think it's water,' he told Dorian quietly. 'But he's definitely _not_ just drunk.'

Refreshed by his water, Cullen turned towards Dorian. 'Can't see you anymore, 'kay?' he uttered in a barely there whisper that crackled through the stress of a thick throat and a hoarse voice. 'Can't, you said s-so.'

‘You can see me all you want. I— _I_ want to see you and most of all, I really want you to let us take you somewhere safe.'

'I'm safe,' he told Dorian like it was obvious. 'Can't get any worse, can it? Shouldn't see you, thass' cheating, I know. Tryin' to… be good, but…' he was leaning into Dorian now, arms sliding around him, gentle and slow, his face pressing into Dorian's neck. 'You smell just like him,' Cullen breathed. 'Not fair. 'S'not fair, but it's this way for a reason. Always this way, doesn't matter. Can I pretend? Just once more?'

'Cullen, it's _me_ ,' Dorian said, rubbing his back, swallowing over the lump that brought tears to his eyes. 'I'm here.'

'No,' Cullen said, shaking his head slowly which lightly rubbed his nose over Dorian's pulse point. 'But I c'n pretend, if y'let me? Don't care if you're bad, Jas, just lemme pretend.'

Dorian felt like he was falling, plummeting.

'Let us take him,' he said to Jassen, voice strangled with the urgency belying it. 'Please.'

Cullen was practically in Dorian's lap now, wrapped around him like a very sad octopus and Dorian had never been more aware of their surroundings, of _who_ was in the room with them.

'Cullen can go anywhere he wants,' Jassen said simply. 'Has been able to ever since I've met him.'

Alistair looked at Jassen. 'What did he take?'

Jassen shrugged. 'Something to help him relax. He's got a big day tomorrow.'

'Cullen wouldn't take anything,' Dorian said and the blond's hands were skimming across his skin beneath his jacket and shirt now, running up his back.

'You're all warm,' Cullen sighed into his neck.

'Well,' Jassen said, finishing his drink. 'He didn't say _no_.'

'What do you even want?' Dorian asked, holding Cullen closer despite himself. 'Haven't you done enough?'

Dark eyes glistened over the rim of his glass, cool neon blue the only source of light in the whole place. 'If he wants to go with you, he can. By all means,' Jassen walked to the door and held it open. 'Take him.'

Dorian wasn't going to wait. He hauled Cullen up, Alistair quickly helping. 'C'mon,' he urged gently. 'We're going to stay in a hotel, a nice one.'

'Hate hotels,' Cullen moaned, both arm around Dorian's neck now. 'Wanna stay here, w' _you_.'

He kissed Dorian full on the mouth. It was messy and clumsy but he _clung_ hard, plastered himself against him, not giving an inch. His lips moved over Dorian's and it was all salty tears and sour tequila.

For a second, shock rendered Dorian useless. Cullen took his hesitation for participation and ran his tongue along Dorian's closed lips, sinking fingers into his hair and groaning deeply.

Dorian broke the kiss just as his body went into a spiral of panic combined with the highly inappropriate urge to reciprocate. 'No, no, come on, darling. We need to leave, OK? We're gonna take care of you.'

Cullen tried to kiss him again, but Dorian was wise to him that time, managed to keep him away and move them towards the door where Jassen stood, calm, aloof and maybe even a little bored.

They made it to the doorway, every step took so much effort and Dorian was short of breath when Alistair took his fair share of Cullen's near dead weight.

Cullen blinked owlishly, looking around. 'Where we goin'?'

'Anywhere you want,' Alistair told him.

'Jassen… are you coming?' he asked voice so child-like it hurt to hear.

'They want to take you somewhere else,' Jassen told him.

The blond baulked. 'Wh-why? No, I have to stay with you.'

Dorian's temper frayed. 'Cullen, _no_. You need to come with us!'

But Cullen was becoming agitated now too. He pushed away from Dorian, the momentum of the push sending him into the doorframe not unlike a pinball and Alistair caught him by the upper arm before he fell fully to the ground. ' _No_! I can't, didn't you read it? Can't! Stop bein' so… so _unfair_!' His expression crumpled again. 'I'm tired, please let me sleep, _please_.'

'You can sleep if you want,' Jassen offered, nothing especially persuasive about it and that was perhaps what Dorian hated most. That he didn't need to _work_ to convince Cullen to stay.

'Cullen, you don't have to come with me,' Dorian told him, taking gentle hold of his hand. 'You can go anywhere you want, with Alistair, to a hotel, but we need to _leave_ here, OK? You're not safe with Jassen.'

There was a long beat of silence, of Cullen's breathing and the thudding pulse from beneath until Cullen yanked his hand back.

'I don't care.'

'What?'

'I don't _care_ ,' he repeated, pushing away from Alistair and stumbling towards Jassen, who opened his arms and caught him. 'I'm tired and he'll make me sleep. That's all I want.'

Dorian stared, unable to believe what was _happening_.

'Cullen, he's a bad guy!'

'Yeah?' Cullen demanded, trembling undertone possibly preceding tears. 'Well, so am I!'

'No, you're _not_!'

'Not read th-the papers, no? Seen what they're all saying about me? That I used you, that I—I took advantage and hurt you? They’re not _wrong_ , are they?' he laughed bitterly, wiping his face. 'I'm the one who ruined your life _again_. Th-that's me. Bad guy.' He took a shaky breath and shook his head. 'Jas, I'm tired.'

Jassen gave a half apologetic shrug, moving Cullen back to the bed. 'Like I said, his choice,' he told them, pulling Cullen's boots off when the blond collapsed heavily back into the covers and pillows. Partially undressing him like a child and it made Dorian want to commit actual murder for the first time in his life. 'Maybe you should think about leaving. He really does need his sleep.'

 _Leaving_ was unthinkable to Dorian. Cullen was passed out, almost unconscious on the bed and Jassen was a fucking _monster_ , Dorian could tell, no matter how well he wore neutral.

'What do you want to do?' Alistair asked him softly.

Half hovering in the doorway between the room and the hallway, Dorian's choice was neatly removed when the elevator at the far end opened.

A familiar gruff voice said, 'Hour's up.'

*

'Right, so… _what_?'

Dorian could not explain it again, could not put breath behind his own crushing failure born of inertia a second time so he let Alistair take over re-telling the story to the girls as they rode in an Uber back to the loft, Cullen's absence glaring.

His phone vibrated, text message coming through the small, plain screen.

**Will come to yours in the morning, make a plan. It'll be all right. Fenris.**

*

At some point before the sun rose, Cullen opened his eyes, let the dreams fade away. Jassen was sat on the windowsill, arms around his knees, back to the wall with his eyes closed. A weird way to sleep, but Cullen wondered, groggy and blurry as he was, if the other man even _was_ asleep.

'Jas,' he croaked. 'Did I… dream that?'

Without opening his eyes, Jassen quietly replied, 'No, you didn't.'

'He was here, then?'

'He was, with the other, Alistair.'

'Wh-what did they want?'

'To help you.'

Three words that caused all of Cullen's body to clench hard, heart contracting defensively and the bitter sting of self-loathing formed right at the back of his throat. What other reason did anyone ever have for being near him?

'Fucking hell,' he muttered. 'Did you—I don't remember much.'

'They left,' Jassen told him, opening his eyes, gaze aimed perfectly towards Cullen. 'You wanted to stay here.'

There was a long bout of silence before Cullen said, 'I have to perform today.'

'I know.'

'Will you—will you help me?'

Softly, Jassen smiled. 'Of course.'

*

Dorian barely slept, mostly stared at the ceiling in a fugue state of panicky anguish. At some point he'd passed out, but that was barely forty five minutes and when he awoke with a violent jolt, nightmares creeping, he gave up and went to make tea.

He was both quietly thrilled and furious to see that Fenris was already inside his loft, sat talking in low tones with Alistair, who'd stayed the night on the sofa.

With Sera and Lana gone to their flat for the first time since returning to the UK after Disneyland, Dorian felt himself floundering. They'd been his mainstays, his anchors to safety and it was _he_ who'd bid them go home, get a decent night’s sleep for once in a while because no matter how much he begged, they never slept in _Cullen's_ old room. He'd told them to go get some proper rest in a proper bed, but still, without them it felt like Dorian had slipped into a dream, back into Cullen's world.

And really, hadn't he?

It had been Cullen he'd touched last night, Cullen whose lips were on his, no matter the awful reasons behind it, no matter who Cullen actually thought he was. Cullen who was in serious fucking trouble, but seemingly unaware of it or worse, unable to _care_.

Fenris looked over, all black and dressed for a day spent doing Fenris-y things which Dorian hoped would extend to dropping Jassen out of a very high window. Dorian had spent enough time with him, had _lived_ with him for close on a month, to know the difference between _Relaxed Fenris_ and _Lethal Fenris._

'Hey,' he greeted Dorian, Alistair turning also.

It was weird, seeing him here, seeing him with Alistair. Weirder still seeing Alistair squeezed into one of Dorian's decidedly too small t-shirts, sipping tea with his hair all messed up from Dorian's cushions.

'We heard you waking up,' Fenris said, nodding towards the kitchen. 'There's tea on the side.'

Dorian couldn't decide why he was moody, realised there were so many reasons he didn't _need_ to decide and huffed to himself as he went there, in dire need of the sweet, soothing ambrosia that was morning tea.

He'd barely taken his first sip when Fenris cleared his throat and said, 'I should have gone with you.'

Dorian sulked mildly. 'It's fine.'

'No, I should have gone. I knew he wouldn't come away with you, especially if he saw me _but_ I shouldn't have let you go there without me. It’s… difficult for me to see him like that. Shouldn’t have stopped me coming with you, though.’

'Well,' Dorian sniffed, joining them. 'I appreciate that.'

'Alistair told me what happened. I'm sorry.'

Nodding, Dorian tried to brace for potential disappointment. 'Is there a plan?'

'There's always a plan. The difference is good plans and _bad_ plans.'

'Yes, all right,' Dorian half snapped. 'I realise going there last night wasn't exactly a _good idea_ , but I needed to see him. I had to.'

Fenris seemed like he understood. 'I'd have done the same, were our positions reversed.'

'He's so different,' Dorian said, looking down. 'Ever since I've known him, he's always been so… together.'

'Not always.'

'Last night, I was so sure of what I needed to do. Just get to him, talk to him and make him see sense. Today, I'm… less sure.'

'You don't have to do this,' Fenris told him. 'You really don't. Cullen's life right now, there's no way to avoid media scrutiny if you go there today. You've been through a lot. I don't know what this last month has been like for you, but I know you've suffered. I don't want more of that for you.'

'I know, but I—' his throat caught on the words. 'I can't just leave him like this.'

There was a delicate kind of question hanging between the three of them, Dorian could feel it in the way they didn't quite look at one another, the way they didn't ask what would happen _after_ , if he helped Cullen, got him back on track… what then?

Dorian did not know.

Cullen was famous. Cullen was a household name. He walked a path that had once gutted and betrayed Dorian, limelight glaring down on the worst moments of his life. Dorian's life now was one of retreat, of quiet nights and hiding away from the majority of the world. He wore drab colours and he stayed in shadows because shadows were _safe_. The two lives could not combine. That was the sad, bitter truth of it.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't do everything he could to help Cullen.

'So,' he said, ignoring the little wobble in it. 'Do we have a plan?'

'We do.'

Dorian tried to laugh. 'A cunning plan?'

They shared a look, those other two men. 'Well.'

*

'Best plan _ever!_ ' Lana declared, finishing off the rainbow she'd painted on Sera's face, having used a somewhat stunning array of multicoloured lipsticks to achieve the desired outcome.

'Agreed,' Sera said staunchly, drawing yet another glittery bee on Lana's cheek. 'Perfect cover.'

'We're very distracting,' Lana told Fenris sagely. 'No one will be looking at you guys if we're around.'

'Excellent,' he said, not really paying attention. He was texting someone. Dorian didn't pry, but he had that little _dent_ in his forehead, the one that was usually to do with Leliana. He huffed irritably when it vibrated in reply and he quietly growled something in another language. 'She's not being especially helpful.'

Dorian had been going over the layout of the stupid _Wireless_ _Festival_ with Alistair.

'She won't get tickets? We need them and they're all sold out.'

Fenris knuckled his forehead, as if trying to rid himself of the _Lee Headache._ 'In all fairness,' he said softly. 'Cullen was pretty awful to us. It wasn't like he just said, _you're fired_.'

'Oh,' Dorian said slowly, awkwardly. 'What did he say?'

'He was mean. Personal.'

Dorian felt guilty on Cullen's behalf, wanted to apologise for him almost. Stupid, ridiculous instinct because Cullen and he were broken up, very much so.

'Let me try?'

Fenris handed over the phone without hesitation, wandering over to the kitchen. It was almost nine in the morning and they didn't have much time. Dorian called instead of texting, deep breath to steady his jangling unease.

' _Did you really think calling me was better than texting, you absolute prick? What else do you want? I've already—'_

 _'_ Uh, hi, it's Dorian.'

' _Oh. Dorian. Hello.'_

He laughed nervously. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have, well, look. I know you don't want to help and that's—'

' _Did he say I didn't_ want _to help?'_ she gasped indignantly. ' _Motherfucker, put him on the phone, I'll murder him! That is_ not _what I said!'_

 _'_ No, no, sorry,' Dorian rushed to say, shooting Fenris an apologetic look as the shorter man glared. 'No, he didn't say that. My bad. Um. Lee, please can we just get the tickets? Please?'

She sighed irritably. _'I disagree on general principal that yanking him out of his downward spiral in this manner will_ work _, that was my objection. If you want to talk to him, you don't need to descend upon him in such a manner for that.'_

'Fenris, uh… disagrees.'

' _And my input is less valuable?'_

Dorian chuckled, mildly terrified of her tone. 'No, God, no. I just really, _really_ need to see him.'

There was a steady beat of silence from the other before she said, _'You've had a whole month to try and see him.'_

Lana and Sera, who were closest to Dorian, heard her say that. They both turned, identical expressions of barely contained disapproval and Dorian sternly shook his head, forbidding any outbursts of angry loyalty.

Nothing mattered except getting Cullen safe.

'Fair enough,' he said, squashing down his own internal monologue about how he'd been a _tad_ busy the last month trying not to _die_. 'I really believe he's in danger and I think I can help. Please help me to… help him.'

More silence before an exhale that represented capitulation.

_'Fine. I was wrong about you being the one who leaked the pictures so, yes. I'll email you tickets. VIP, I assume, backstage passes?'_

'Yes, thank you. For what it's worth, I don't hold it against you about the accusation. You were just trying to protect him.'

' _I was. OK, I've messaged my assistant. You'll have tickets within twenty minutes. Was that all?'_

She asked the last with a tone that heavily implied gruesome death should that _not_ have been all, but Dorian wasn't done. Gathered his courage, what little he had going spare, and took a deep breath.

'Lee, I need to cash in that favour you owe me.'

'… _I beg your pardon?'_

'That— y'know, when I helped with the message and you said you, uh, owed me a favour.'

Fenris and Alistair were staring now, both with rounded eyes, Alistair shaking his head slightly. Dorian ignored them and pushed on.

'And I realise how rude this is, how you're not actually supposed to ever cash in favours _per se,_ but I'm desperate.'

Slow and taut, she said, ' _Very well. Name your favour.'_

 _'_ Forgive him.'

She didn't ask _what_ or _who_. Did not require clarification. The silence between them was strained and stretched by distance and technology. Dorian waited, stomach churning.

' _Fine_ ,' she said after a while in a clipped, controlled manner. _'Tell Fenris I'll meet him in the snack room. You and I are very much even now, Dorian. Watch your footing.'_

She hung up without another word. Lowering the phone, he exhaled shakily. ‘Lee told me to tell you she'll meet you in the snack room.'

Fenris's lips parted with surprise. 'She _agreed_? She's coming to help?'

'Yeah.'

Alistair whistled. 'She's gonna kill you at some point in the future.'

Dorian didn't care about the _future_ , was anchored firmly, immovably in the moment. 'Well, that'll be fun too.'

*

It was painfully, horribly packed. Thronging crowds of excitable people all huddled together to get somewhere, to get to where they could see and hear their favourite artists playing in Finsbury Park on a gorgeous, sweltering summer's day. There were thousands of people, crammed together in the early morning heat of that August twenty first.

Lana and Sera blended in beautifully. Everyone wore bright colours, face paints, hardly any clothes at all. The girls were loud and distracting, camouflage in a place where people were singing and yelling, sat atop their partner's shoulders, waving banners and for fuck's sake, they weren't even _in_ yet.

By the time they got to a sorting booth, a deeply bored attendant scanning Sera's phone five times for each of the tickets, Dorian's nerves were vibrating like a clock tower bell. It wasn't that people were noticing him, because they _weren_ 't or if they were, it wasn't obvious. Most people seemed concerned with themselves.

It was the atmosphere. So familiar. So horribly fucking familiar. That loud, persuasive mob mentality of enjoyment. He could already hear thundering bass, the kind of thing played over speakers before the show actually started sometime around 11am. They had a good solid hour before that. Time to do what needed to be done.

The atmosphere had him on edge, coupled with the knowledge that his stupid _ex_ was here somewhere. That was fucking him up good and proper, too.

Cullen was all that mattered. He told himself over and over.

It was a deep relief to be given a pass, told to hang it around his neck and then go _right_ instead of _left_ with everyone else, priority and privilege saving him from a full blown panic attack.

'Right,' Fenris said when they came to another queue, a much smaller one. to be searched. Up ahead, metal detectors and security awaited. 'Put them on.'

He handed everyone a deeply familiar black bracelet. Dorian only hesitated for a moment before taking his. Sera muttered, 'So cool,' under her breath as she clicked hers into place. Fenris made quick work of showing them how they worked. Alistair smiled to himself and when Dorian asked after the smile, he said he'd never been given one before.

They were searched pretty thoroughly. Fenris chatted easily with the biggest one and Dorian let himself get felt up by a woman whose interest in his body seemed nihilistic at best.

'Go through,' she said. 'Keep to designated areas at all times. Whose your rep?'

'Vivienne,' Fenris replied smoothly.

‘Northmost lounge, past the security hub.’

'Who's that?' Dorian asked quietly as they headed through a labyrinth he recognised all too well. The black makeshift walls, the pop-up structure that was a _festival._ Backstage, bathrooms, changing rooms, lounges, kitchens, communication rooms, security hubs. It was all horribly, painfully _known_ to him. He saw equipment wheeled around, knew how to wire a jack, knew more than he'd ever wanted to about those great, lugging pieces of machinery that had amplified his _then_ boyfriend's voice, the guitars and every other sound that contributed to the band he'd devoted so much time and attention to.

'Vivienne De Fer?' Alistair chimed in. 'Oh, she's wonderful! How did you get her on board?'

'I didn't. That’s your job. OK,’ he said when they came to a door that said _VIP LOUNGE_. 'Dorian and I will—'

 _'Fenris_?'

They turned down the narrow hallway to see Isabela with a few people in tow. She was wearing a dressing gown, open at the front and matching black lacy underwear that had Sera subtly clutching her heart as if in cardiac arrest.

'Izzy,' Fenris greeted easily, but Dorian could tell he didn't exactly _want_ to run into her then.

'And _you_ ,' Isabela added, eyeing Dorian. 'How've you been, kitten? I was so sorry about all the fucking drama last month. Total bollocks, you ask me.'

'Yeah, it's been fine,' Dorian blatantly lied and then he caught sight of who was behind her. Barely suppressing a sigh - yes, his luck _really_ was this shit - he gave the man he recognised a weary smile. 'Hi Krem.'

'Dorian,' the younger man said, familiar voice reminding Dorian of happier times, of youth. Krem had always been kind, ever since he'd known him, even before Harry. 'Lana, Sera.'

The girls greeted Krem, whose hair was shorter now, his jaw a little more square, shoulders bigger. Dorian wondered if he'd ever gotten the bottom surgery he talked about wanting.

'You still on T?' Sera asked, pulling her bra up a bit higher.

'Course,' he replied, but he seemed distracted, focus mostly on Dorian. 'Uh, are you here about the thing?'

Dorian couldn't suppress his sigh that time. 'Which thing?'

'The… video. I sent you a whole bunch of texts about it.'

'My number's changed. Like, more than once. What video?'

'It's something Dally told me, he's been working on some big _thing_ with Seth. They're gonna drop it live, apparently.'

Sera's hand touched Dorian's arm just as his heart jammed itself into his throat. _Seth Darius_ , a name he didn't let himself think almost on par with Hardiss Lilbourn. Co-singer of _Fully Charged_ , co-conspirator of the whole, monstrous set up, guy his ex had been rampantly fucking in a place just like the one Dorian was currently standing.

Not now, not now, no panic attack, not _now_.

'Krem, _mate_ ,' Lana complained. 'Hardly the fucking time.'

Krem looked pained, but he didn't relent. 'I'm just warning you,' he said, low and quiet. 'I don't know what it is, but they've mentioned you more than once, that's what I've heard. Is that _not_ why you're here?'

'Nope,' Dorian replied, forcing a smile. 'Here for other unbearable levels of drama, I'm afraid.'

'What have you heard?' Fenris asked with a deep frown. 'This plan, or whatever it is.'

'I genuinely don't know. Don't run with them anymore, but people still talk. I know he's got something planned to do with you. Something for the show, the backing video, I think. That's it.'

Suppressing the worst of his panic, Dorian sneered. 'Planning on replaying the video from last year, I suppose. Fucking loser.'

But Fenris seemed genuinely worried. 'Where is he?'

'No idea, mate.'

'Are you here for Cullen, then?' Isabela prompted and when Dorian nodded, she said, 'East side dressing room, just got done with his vocalist. He barely spoke to me, seemed… not great, if I'm being honest.' She eyed them dubiously. 'Don't know if you're going to pull off… whatever it is you're attempting here. He fired you, right?'

'He did.'

Someone behind Isabela said they had to get moving and she waved at them impatiently. 'Who's the dude he's got with him?'

Fenris's expression darkened. 'No one.'

'Typical male non-answer,' she sighed. 'Well, if you need my help breaking the rules, let me know,' she added, moving past them and giving Sera a highly suggestive wink. 'I _do_ love getting waist deep into trouble, especially if it'll give old _Ghastly_ an aneurysm.'

'Watch yourself,' Krem told Dorian seriously. 'You know what a prick he is.'

Dorian nodded but he didn't agree, couldn't concern himself with anything besides the fact that Cullen was nearby, that he might be at least a little bit sober and open to a conversation wherein he believed Dorian's presence was _real_.

'Right,' Fenris said when they were out of sight. 'We need to move fast. Girls, you two are in there, we'll swing back for you soon. Alistair, you're dealing with Vivienne.'

Alistair clapped his hands together and rubbed them. 'Time to whip out the old Therein charm, eh?'

Fenris rolled his eyes. 'Irresistible as it is.'

'Damned straight.'

Dorian held Sera and Lana's hands. 'OK, you know what to do?'

'Make a ton of noise, draw cocks on everything, demand access to all the celebs and generally make twats of ourselves,' Lana declared.

'It's the role of a lifetime,' Sera agreed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 'Be safe, yeah? Do what you need to.'

They went inside, music from within fading up and then down again as Dorian and Fenris backed away.

'Snack room?'

'Usually close to the changing rooms.'

'I know, I remember. Why would she meet us there? Isn't she worried that Jassen might—?'

'Cullen never leaves his changing room before performances,' Fenris explained, looking around. 'Hates mingling. Once he's done with the stylist, sound check and vocal coach, he'll stay in there until he's due to go out. I assume, as does Lee, that Jassen will be sticking to him like glue, sneaky fucker. Snack room is the last place Cullen would go. He hates buffets.'

People walked past. Crew members, people wearing headsets. A couple of them turned to stare at Dorian, now in close quarters but Dorian kept going, gaze lowered.

'Fenris,' Dorian whispered. 'If he _is_ a professional, like a—an assassin or whatever, then what the fuck is he doing with Cullen? Really?'

Fenris looked, calmly scanning doors. 'Assassins have pastimes too. They like music, movies, people. Develop fixations. Just because he _is_ something doesn't mean that's _why_ he's doing it.'

'He's gone to so much trouble, though. And for what?'

'Now is not the time for introspect,' Fenris said, turning abruptly into a room with tables on all sides, heavily laden with snacks and Leliana leaning against the back wall, lazily eating an apple danish.

'Can't even be on time to your own _mission,'_ she greeted coolly.

Fenris scoffed. 'If anything, we're early.'

'Show started at eleven, he's on in less than half an hour. This is a stupid plan and it's going to backfire horribly.' Lee took another bite, mildly glaring at them both. 'But I suppose if it's all going to go wrong, I may as well _be here_ for it. No sense in breaking the habit of a lifetime. You have Vivienne on board?'

'Alistair's on it.'

She nodded. 'Good call, although I am somewhat less than pleased you're involving him. He doesn't deserve to be put at risk like this.'

'He was with Dorian already.'

'Oh. I see.'

Lee's green eyes met Dorian's waiting gaze. 'He's my friend,' Dorian told her. 'He wanted to help.'

Before Lee could say anything else, Fenris gestured at the tables. 'Have something to eat. Come on, you didn't have breakfast.'

'I can't eat anything.'

'Dorian,' Fenris said, a hint of something firm in it. 'This is going to be stressful and you're slightly prone to fainting.'

'I am _not_!'

'For God's sake, have a croissant and shut the fuck up, will you?' Leliana snapped, thrusting one in his direction. 'He's right, you look like you're about to pitch sideways.'

Dorian resentfully took a bite of the delicious, freshly made pastry. 'Sorry if I didn't have a sodding full English before embarking on a _mission_ to save my—to save _Cullen_.'

Both of them gracefully let his mistake slide by without comment.

While waiting for Dorian to finish his food, which was being consumed at breakneck speed, Lee winced slightly, rubbing her lower back. Fenris started forward. 'Let me?' he asked softly, so quiet and gentle that Dorian wasn't sure if his extra loud chewing had somehow interfered with his hearing, or possibly reality.

She nodded briskly, turning enough to permit him access to her lower back where his hands began to move surely and confidently, applying pressure where needed to relieve pain. Lee made no noises of pleasure or relief, but Dorian could tell it helped. The tension she carried all about her seemed to lessen, lips parting to exhale slowly.

'Better?' Fenris murmured, all _late night FM DJ_ , low and soothing.

'A little.' She didn't thank him, but when he stopped, she turned enough that they were face to face, almost nose to nose. Neither ducked away, neither avoided the gaze. Both held it, strangely compelling thing, as if daring one another, though in Fenris, Dorian could tell there was no hostility to it. Compulsion, surety. It was Lee who seemed to challenge him, almost daring him to _kiss_ her even.

Dorian stood eating his croissant wondering at his existence, politely trying _not_ to watch them, failing dismally.

'Finished,' he muttered, stuffing the last piece into his mouth. 'There, no fainting.'

'Good,' Fenris said, looking away first. 'Let's go distract the professional, then.'

It was Lee's turn to scoff. ' _That's_ your plan? To get Jassen away from Cullen?' She wiped her mouth, eyeing him. 'If he truly is what you say, then surely that's a little _puerile_ , no?'

'Ah, insults,' Fenris sighed with something akin to nostalgia. 'My good friends for close on twenty three years now.'

He held the door open for Lee and she went first. Dorian couldn't help but notice where he and Fenris were dressed very much down, Lee looked, if possible, even more domineering than usual. Dorian had almost gotten used to seeing her in repose, jeans and t-shirt, lace up shoes, hair loose and face free of makeup. She wore that outfit - powerful, expensive and strikingly stunning - like armour.

To Dorian's surprise, Lee smirked at Fenris's comment. 'As if you don't love it.'

Fenris smiled at her, somewhat adoringly, if a little distanced. 'Never could resist your particular brand of snark.'

Other people headed into the snack room as they walked away, Dorian brushing crumbs off his front, nervously tugging the material down.

'Who else did you bring?' Lee asked.

'Dorian's two.'

'Ah,' she said, nodding. 'Excellent choice.'

'Indeed. Very distracting.'

They came to a busy row of rooms, the on-stage music outside playing loudly. People, crew members and all kinds of others, were moving in and out of the rooms, checking on the _talent_. Some were partying, some were _drunk_. Dorian did a quick scan, checking that his ex was not one of them. He knew it was highly unlikely that he'd be in the same place as someone like Cullen, but still, fate could be unkind and Dorian needed to be prepared if he was going to get slapped in the face _while_ being gut-punched.

'Dorian,' Fenris said quietly, nodding to a shadowy corner of an area that veered right. 'Wait there until I signal.'

'Which room is his?'

'The only one with the closed door,' Lee answered, as if it was obvious which, when Dorian looked at the rest, yes, all right, it was a _bit_ obvious. The other singers had entourages hanging out of their rooms, spilling into the hallway, drinking, singing scales and laughing. Trying on clothes and generally living their best life so early on a Saturday morning.

The door nearest to them was closed. Dorian hid where he was told, facing Fenris and Lee as they approached, expressions turning cold and stony.

Fenris knocked at the door. Dorian couldn't see anything except the people down the hall and Cullen's two best friends.

The door opened, light touching their faces.

'Hello,' Jassen greeted calmly.

'We want to speak to him,' Lee said.

'He's getting ready to perform,' Jassen said, not taking the trouble to lower his voice. 'Maybe afterwards?'

Leliana gave Jassen a deep _up and down_ of utmost disgust. 'Are you representing him now? Because if so, there are some things you need to know.'

'I'm not representing him,' Jassen said, maddeningly calm. 'I'm just his friend.'

'Well, as his _friend_ , perhaps you could pass along some much needed information about the restraining order, not to mention contractual adjustments for his performances today.'

'Oh?' Jassen sounded somewhat curious.

'I had an update from his lawyer today, he still contacts me, obviously, but I did correct him. It'll reach Cullen come Monday, but he needs to know before then. Can we talk over here or would you prefer the entire world to know of it before Cullen?'

Jassen sighed patiently, moving into view, his back to Dorian as he followed them the way they came in. When Jassen was side by side with Fenris, he gave Dorian a small _come on_ signal with his hand.

Dorian fled from his corner moving silent and _fast_ into the one room with the door ajar. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him as silently as possible and then he turned, the small space completely uninteresting to him save for who sat in the centre of it.

Cullen sat at the dressing table, head in both hands, headphones in, playing at high volume, drowning out the noise. He was shirtless, bare back to Dorian who was, by virtue of the cramped room, mere inches away.

Not wanting to alarm Cullen, but realising it was likely impossible, he chose not to touch his back and instead, moved to the side, sitting in the chair, still warm in Jassen's absence. It faced forward, but Cullen did not see him yet.

Dorian tapped the table with his hand a few times and Cullen let out a shuddering, trembling sigh, too loud to be anything good and slowly, he emerged from his shell, wiping his eyes and pulling out the headphones.

'Are they gone?' he croaked looking at Dorian then.

Cullen’s red rimmed eyes widened, lips parting, jaw going slack and a breath in the back of his throat seemed to catch and shatter.

Dorian swallowed. 'Hi.'

Hi? Fucking _hi?_ Christ.

Cullen stared and stared, finally shaking himself.

'Dorian.'

'Cullen, I'm—I'm sorry for barging in like this,' he blurted out, trying for levity and landing on crushingly awkward instead. Cullen stared with dull disbelief and utter astonishment. 'But um. Fuck. OK. Cullen, I want to help you, all right? I'm here. For whatever you need.'

'They sent you in here?'

'No,' Dorian said sternly. 'This was my idea. I _want_ to be here.'

Something dark crossed Cullen's expression then, something Dorian vaguely identified as loathing, though he had never really seen it in Cullen before.

'To help me,' he echoed flatly.

'Yes.'

Cullen shut down, thing of mechanical beauty and Dorian almost flinched to see it. 'Right, well I don't need any help, but thanks.'

'Cullen—'

Pushing away from the dressing table, Cullen opened the door, holding it for Dorian, gaze fixed on the floor. 'No help needed, but I appreciate the gesture.'

Knife right to the centre of his heart, Dorian tried to gather himself. 'Cullen, I'm not—'

'You're here out of some misguided sense of obligation. I don't need your help. I'm fine.'

'Fine?'

Cullen's knuckles were white as he gripped the door. 'That's right.'

Dorian got to his feet. 'You're not fine.'

'I _am.'_

 _'_ And if I hadn't seen you last night, maybe I'd believe that.'

Nose furling, jaw clenched hard, Cullen said, 'It's not _your_ concern, is it?'

_Your life is not my concern and mine is not yours._

_'_ Fucking hell, Cullen,' Dorian whispered miserably. 'I didn't know this would happen.'

'It's not your fault.'

'That doesn't _matter_. I… I care about you, I can't just stand by while you—'

Cullen slammed the door shut so hard that the handle broke off, clattering to the floor, cheap and flimsy. Down the hall, people cheered and clapped in that grimly British way, but Cullen's fury was the centre of Dorian's world then, all his senses gripped by the man who trembled with the intensity of his feelings.

'I'm not your responsibility, I'm not your _boyfriend_ , I'm not yours to worry about and even if I was, I'm _fine_ , OK? A couple of bad weeks doesn't mean I need to be _saved!_ I'm fine. I'm _here_ , aren't I? I won't fuck up any more paid performances and you can tell _them_ that when you leave.'

Dorian shook his head. 'Yeah, I'm sure that's what they were concerned about - _money_. The fuck, Cullen? They love you and you _fired_ them!'

Golden eyes blazing, Cullen remained silent for a few long, painful seconds until he said, 'My life is nothing to do with you anymore.'

'You know that's not true,' Dorian said, daring to step closer and Cullen was already against the wall, had nowhere to turn. 'I know I've fucked this up.'

'Don't.'

'I hurt you and I did it on purpose.'

' _Don_ 't do this to me.'

'I was devastated, I was… I _felt_ so stupid and so scared of what it meant. How much I ignored and pretended wasn't true. How much I twisted the truth to avoid seeing what was right in front of me, that _scared_ me and I couldn't contemplate sharing this life with you.' Dorian ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. 'You were on the fucking _TV_ , I didn't know what to do. I still _don_ 't but I want to help you, please let me.'

'I don't _need_ help.'

'You think I believe that? I know you, Cullen. I _know you_ and I know when you're struggling. Maybe I haven't known you forever the way they have, those people who you've cast aside to protect from your implosion, but I still know you. If there's one thing,' he said, moving an inch closer. 'One thing you lot have taught me, it's letting people _help_ you. Needing something and asking for it.'

'I don't—'

'You were drugged last night, or don't you even remember?'

There was that loathing again, aimed expertly inward. 'I remember enough.'

'Jassen did that, you realise?'

Cullen shook his head. 'You should go.'

'Fucking hell, at least look at me and tell me that you _know_ Jassen is bad for you, that he's not someone you should be around in this state. When has Fenris ever steered you wrong?'

'You can't _be here_ , do you understand me?'

'No! No I really bloody don't understand. I don't understand any of this, Cullen. I don't get how you could do that to them, how you could let yourself fall this far and for what? For _me?_ Fuck that! You _idiot_ , throwing away all this, this life that I could never have in a million years, because of me?'

' _Leave_.'

'Tell me why.'

'I don't want you here! I don't _need_ you here!'

They were close now, way too close and Cullen was without a shirt, his sculpted upper torso glistening with sweat on that morning before his twenty ninth birthday, heat of a small, windowless room becoming stifling. Dorian was close enough now that he could have touched the wall on either side of Cullen if he extended his arms, could have trapped him there, held him there and _demanded_ what the fuck this was, what was _happening_?

But he couldn't do that because he hadn't been lying, he really _did_ know Cullen. Knew the reasons, deep down. The kind of man Cullen was at heart. Loved too much, too deeply, too fast. The kind of man who fell and then apologised for it. Did not believe he was worthy of causing trouble in the lives of those he loved.

'If you want me to leave, I will,' Dorian told him, trying to calm down. 'I'll go, but first please just listen to me when I tell you that Jassen is _bad_ and if you know that, tell me why you're staying. Please.'

Cullen refused to look at him but Dorian heard how his intake of breath trembled, could almost feel his exhale over sweat dampened skin. This close, his body longed to engage in the muscle memory behaviour it had once grown accustomed to. Lean in, kiss, hold, _love_ , touch, taste, fuse.

Dorian held himself back, waiting desperately. Finally Cullen shook his head, gaze riveted to the ground. 'I'm staying with Jassen because I don't care about him and he doesn't care about me, not really.'

That made Dorian so angry he wanted to shove him. 'And that's enough to put up with him drugging you, is it?'

'I was drunk, nothing else.'

'Your pupils were the size of saucers, you fucking prat! Don't play dumb with me, I know you _too_ well. You wouldn't do that to yourself.'

Cullen sneered, lifting his eyes to stare coldly. 'Maybe you don't know me as well as you think.'

'Maybe I know you better than _you_ do, arrogant prick!'

'Who the fuck are you to be here anyway? This isn't your life, not your _scene_ , is it? You shouldn't be here, Dorian. Go your way and I'll go mine, right?'

It cut him to the quick, such cruelty that he hardly recognised the words coming from Cullen then. Cullen who wore knee high socks and glasses, who wrote songs with a beautiful little frown, who scribbled lyrics on his walls, who spent hours making perfect, amazing food for everyone no matter how tired he was. Cullen who Dorian had fallen so deeply in love with.

'Yeah,' Dorian said, voice threatening to crack as his throat thickened. 'That's what I said to you after I read your messages, when I got back home after having all my photos dumped on the internet by your fucking _friend._ I made a mistake, I shouldn't have said that to you, I—'

'So, you _didn_ 't mean it then?'

'What?'

'You didn't mean it?' Cullen demanded, tension indicating he already knew the answer, no hope to be found in those lovely eyes, still so perfect even when narrowed in anger. 'Take it back, do you?'

Quietly, Dorian said, 'I would if I could.'

'But you can't.'

'No, I can't and at the time, I did mean it.'

'Then leave.'

'Cullen, I'm not leaving you like this.'

'You promised you would!'

'You promised to tell me why! Why is this happening? What can I do to stop it?'

'Nothing,' he growled. 'There is nothing I need from you and I'm—I'm _fine_ , all right? I do not need anything from anyone. This is my last contractual performance, it's enough to cover the majority of the legal fees from the breach, I can clear that and then hand over the accounts to Lee.'

'And then what?'

'And then be _done!'_

 _'_ Oh my God, listen to yourself, you're quitting, are you? Going your own way, is that it? Why? To spite me? Fuck you, that's _low_!'

Cullen stared, breathing fast but there was something in it, some measure of depth in the hurt that Dorian was inflicting.

'Do you think this will work?' he demanded quietly. 'That you'll get me fired up enough to rethink my life?'

'Do _you_ think that lashing out will push me away? Push away anyone that loves you?'

Cullen walked into Dorian's space, confronted him with a split second choice to either allow them to touch or move back and Dorian chose the latter out of instinct even as he knew it was probably a mistake.

'I don't need to push _you_ away, do I? You don't love me. Isn't that what you said? Did I get it wrong?'

'No, but—'

'But what? You were crystal clear, no need to explain. I still have it, do you want me to read it out?'

Dorian closed his eyes. 'No.'

Silence crescendoed between them, crashing around Dorian's ears and driving his skin to previously unknown levels of hypersensitivity, awaiting any movement or words from Cullen.

'Madeline took Sophia. I fucked up and she saw it, my little girl. I didn't know she was in the room and I… I threw a glass at the wall. Madeline and I, we were arguing. I was drunk.' He spoke with a degree of wretchedness that Dorian didn't know how to combat, to soothe. 'I was drunk in front of my daughter and I smashed a glass. I could have hurt her. Madeline, for once, is perfectly within her rights to keep her away from me. Details of the restraining order are still private because it's mid process, but they won't be, not for long. I'll never see her again.'

Dorian's heart twisted in his chest. 'I'm so sorry.'

'It's what I deserve.'

'No,' Dorian said sternly. 'You love her more than anything, there's no way you'd ever hurt her. It was an accident, people make mistakes. Madeline will come around, she'll… she'll see reason. If only for the money, she'll drop the order, I'm sure of it.'

'I don't _deserve_ to see Sophia.'

'Cullen,' Dorian bade, stepping closer. 'I know the feelings you're experiencing, I actually do, even if only a little. I know you want to isolate yourself, but I need you to fight this.'

'Why? My career is nothing but a page six joke, a three part fucking documentary on Channel Five and I'm—' he took a breath to cover where the last one became tangled and broke off. 'I'm the same as I've always been, deep down. Nothing changes, not really. Still surrounded by people so much _better_ than me. Relying on the rising tide to raise all boats, when really it's just them pulling me up. I don't _care_ anymore. I'm so _tired_ , Dorian.' He shook his head. 'I am so tired of caring. Trying to find that balance. Be better, be more than I am. It's exhausting and it was for _nothing_. Nothing.' Hollow and thin, he said, 'I don't care what Jassen is. Good, bad, I don't give a fuck. He's here and he asks for nothing. I can't hurt him because he doesn't care and neither do I.'

Between clenched teeth, Dorian ground out, 'He can hurt _you_ , though. Fuck, he did this to you, Cullen!'

'That was Aiden. He hacked your phone, uploaded the pictures and got paid for it. He had them all in his system, had the money in his accounts, it was—'

'Fenris _knows_ this is Jassen,' Dorian insisted, clinging wildly to the one piece of knowledge that Cullen _needed_. 'You've trusted Fenris all your life, why stop now?'

Cullen looked up, shaking his head as he smiled bitterly. 'You're not listening.'

'I am, believe me, I just wish I wasn't _hearing_ what you're saying. How dare you be so reckless with yourself like this?'

'I'll _dare_ all I like, it's no concern of yours!'

'Stop throwing that fucking message in my face, will you? I know what I said and there's no excuse but I thought I would _die_ , do you understand that? Leaving you, cutting contact with you was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life and I would never have been able to do it if there was a chance we could get back together!'

Cullen looked away, muscles in his jaw working, tendons in his neck strained as he caged whatever emotion threatened to overwhelm him then. Guilt stung and fractured the basis of Dorian's anger and he felt a terrible rush of empathy, of understanding for Cullen's motives, for his own role in such suffering and it was unbearable.

'I… I should never have said those things to you.'

The blond wiped his eyes, moving past Dorian to the other side of the tiny room. 'You did what you had to.'

'I did, but that doesn't mean it was right.'

'Please just go. I don't want this whole… thing. This conversation. I'm fine, I don't need you, I don't _want_ any help, not from anyone. Please leave me alone.'

Dorian was quiet for a beat before he replied, 'I can't.'

Cullen blew air through his teeth, bare back to Dorian.

'Fucking liar, knew you wouldn't even—'

'I can't watch you do this.'

'Then look away!'

'I _can't.'_

 _'_ I don't want your pity.'

'It's not.'

'I swear to God, if you don't leave, I will call security, Dorian. Please don't make me do that.'

'Cullen, just _talk_ to me? Christ, you have any idea how painful it was seeing you like that last night? Do you?'

'I didn't ask you to be there.'

'You don't _need_ to ask, I care about you!'

That seemed to push Cullen too far. 'You know what, I have to start getting ready,' Cullen told him, voice trembling with the effort of control. 'I uh, I really appreciate you coming by to check on me, but it's not necessary, OK?' He turned around, everything about him locked down, shutters well and truly in place as he wiped his eyes. 'I really have just been a bit low, but things are getting better now, all right? I'm doing these performances today and I'll… I'll make things right with Lee and Fenris. You're a good guy to come round and check on me, but it's…' he looked away. 'Not needed. I wish you all the best.'

He waited after he said that, not quite looking at Dorian, but not actively avoiding his gaze either. It would have been impressive, might even have been convincing, had Dorian not known him so fucking well that it was like looking into a mirror, seeing his own self in pain and hurting, scrambling to keep it together long enough to protect someone he _loved_ from becoming tainted by association.

Dorian looked at the door, then back at Cullen who was waiting, rigid with mostly hidden tension, for Dorian to leave.

The anger, the fight and determination that had been fuelling Dorian this long was fading, dying in the face of Cullen's sheer denial. That Dorian was not convinced by it didn't mean he could so easily dismiss it.

He thought of leaving, of regrouping with Fenris and Lee. Knew what would happen if he did. How much further Cullen would sink, slip right through his fingers and into the waiting clutches of another.

Cullen's patience was visibly fraying, fingers flying across his thigh in that frantic rhythm Dorian had seen once or twice before.

And it broke his heart all over again, cracked it right in two because he still loved him _so much_ and seeing him like this…

'Cullen,' he said. 'Look at me. _Look_ at me, please.'

Slowly, Cullen did as Dorian said, the look shuttered and guarded but he was there, Cullen was _there_ , Dorian just needed to reach him.

'Let me be here with you,' he pleaded with quiet insistence. 'Let me _be_ here. Let me stay and talk to you.' He took a single step forward again, throat bobbing. 'Let me take care of you like you took care of me.'

'I didn't.'

'You _did_ ,' Dorian insisted fiercely, tears springing forth and really, he was amazed he'd lasted this long. 'You took care of me right from our first night together. You rubbed my back and you cleaned me up, made me breakfast and you made sure I felt safe. You came into my life and you took care of me. You made me want to re-join the world, you made me believe I could do that. You built me up and you gave me strength.' Wiping his eyes, he whispered. 'You did so much for me and I know you thought I _knew_ who you were. I know that. You tried to protect me but you didn't hide it, you didn't lie to me. No one has _ever_ made me feel like you did. No one has ever made me so _happy._ You took care of me, Cullen. All I want is a chance to do the same.'

With every word, Dorian had watched Cullen's control come under assault, had seen the slow descent into something resembling weakness. He had not moved closer, they were close as it was, tiny little room with hardly any air, Cullen's smell all around him, merciless memories of waking up to that same scent, of burrowing into warm skin to find the source.

Caught in the fine line between breaking down or barricading deeper, Cullen took a ragged, dangerously uneven breath. He looked like he was moments from falling apart, from losing it and Dorian had to fight to overcome the instinct to gather him up, to touch and kiss it all better.

'I want that too,' he confessed quietly, shaking all over now that Dorian could see it, see the strain. 'But I can't have it because you feel obligated. Because you feel like this is your fault.'

'That's _not_ why I'm here!'

Tears spilling, expression deeply entrenched with overwrought fury cracking that control at the seams, Cullen ground out, 'Why are you, then? Why are you here if it's not your place? Not your concern? _Why_ are you here, Dorian?'

_Say it, just say it, tell him, show him, please._

_'_ I'm here because I… care.'

'Why?'

'Because I—I just _do_!'

' _Why?'_

 _'_ You know why!'

Too close, too close to the edge and if one fell, they'd pull the other down with them, Dorian could see it all so clearly for the first time in his life. He could _see_ how tangled up in Cullen he really was. How ridiculous it had been to ever think that hiding away would do _anything_ to sever the link between them.

It was Cullen who moved closer now, who moved into that intimate space that once would have signalled an incoming kiss, meeting of lips in a beautiful, perfect clash. It didn't mean that anymore, not necessarily and Dorian was oh so aware of how the fine lines around them were thinning like razors, any wrong move would have them tumbling and dragging the other down with them, tied as they were.

'Then _say it.’_

The world had contracted to that tiny room and everything that mattered was contained within one man.

Cullen was staring at him, face wet with tears and simply wrecked by the emotions Dorian had dredged up, but the way he looked at him, there was _still_ no real expectation, no demand, barely any hope. He was hurting himself, pushing Dorian to say what would finally cut the ties between them because maybe once, there'd been a time when it could have swung left into friendship, but that was gone forever now. All or nothing, all or _nothing_. Cullen had always been intense, had always been _a lot_.

And he wanted to say it, he wanted more than anything in the world to say of course he loved him, of fucking _course_ he was madly, insanely in love with Cullen, that Cullen was all he wanted, enough for Dorian to find a way to cope with his life, with what it would mean them being together, _more_ than enough…

But.

_But._

The words did not come. Dorian was caught, was _stuck_ and nothing came out, too many words clogging up his throat and packing his chest, overloading and overwhelming and the result was _silence._

Cullen took his answer from Dorian's silence, turning to the side, nodding to himself, fracture of pure suffering visible only for a split second before he sought to master himself, wiping wet cheeks.

Dorian started forward, taking gentle hold of Cullen's hand, drawing his attention and sobbing under his breath.

'I'm here,' he offered weakly, poor excuse for what Cullen had wanted, _needed,_ deserved. _A_ nguish tightened at the base of his lungs, squeezing everything inside of him. 'And I am here because I _choose_ to be. Not because I'm obligated or guilty. Not because you need something I don't want to give. Not because I need anything in return. I _want_ to be here with you. I want to be where you are and you fucking _know_ why. You know me, same as I know you.'

'I thought you knew me, yes.'

That hurt more than Dorian could say.

'Cullen, let me—'

'I thought you knew who I was and accepted me for that. I thought,' Cullen went on, drawing in a trembling breath. 'That I'd done everything I could, that I was… enough.'

'You were, you _are_!'

'I was stupid,' he said, frowning as despair began to calm him, cool his anger, entropy taking hold of passion and strangling it into submission. 'To ever think I was enough to make up for this.'

 _This_. He didn't gesture around the room, the place where they stood but Dorian understood all the same. His life, the craziness of who he was, his career.

Dorian could feel himself getting angry again, though it was mostly aimed at himself this time, wishing he could break through the glass ceiling of his inaction, say everything he was too scared to say.

'And I'm sorry,' Cullen added, voice small and soft. 'I am so, so fucking sorry, Dorian. For everything. For not making it clearer. For not doing more to protect you. For involving you, for putting you through all this when you were already struggling. Now you're being dragged into it again and I…' he laughed sadly. 'I just can't stop hurting the people I love.'

Dorian's fingers gripped Cullen's palm. 'You _haven_ 't.'

Cullen did not believe that, Dorian could tell. 'I promise you,' he said, taking a deep breath, more level than Dorian had seen him the entire time they'd been in that room. 'I promise I'll pull myself together. I know it's—it's manipulative almost, letting myself fall this far, it being in the news. I didn't want to involve you but I suppose when it's public, that makes it impossible. That's unfair for you. I really will do my best.' The last word cracked a little and Dorian's throat became thick again, chest fit to burst, eyes burning and blurring. 'I'm sorry. So sorry for everything. I wish I could undo it.'

'You didn't—Cullen, _please_. Please don't push me away.'

'But you can't be here,' Cullen countered softly. 'Can you? I can't push you away if this isn't where you belong. I know you just want to help me and I'm grateful. You're one of the best, most decent men I've ever known and that-that's an understatement, to be sure. But you wouldn't _be here_ if I wasn't in need, would you? If you thought I was fine, you would not be here and that…' he sighed shakily. 'That's the material point.'

Dorian said nothing, couldn't think of what to say, such was the monumental wrongness of that statement. Cullen was _wrong_ but he… technically wasn't. Dorian would still be in his loft had Alistair not come calling, but that did _not_ mean Cullen wasn't wrong, that what he alluded to was not wholly, completely inaccurate.

Because Dorian loved him, he loved him beyond what he could quantify. It was a living thing inside him, it was in his blood. It would never go away, never lessen or fade with time.

But he said _nothing_ and Cullen once again, heard volumes from his silence.

He brought Dorian's hand to his lips and pressed a firm, gentle kiss there, gaze downcast. 'I want you to know that nothing was your fault,' he told Dorian, prelude to a goodbye that he could not contemplate. 'You are perfect and brilliant, you have so much to give the world and it was nothing less than pure privilege to know you.'

When he let go of Dorian's hand, he moved away, distance between them leaving Dorian cold. Cullen could not meet his gaze, could not look at him when he said, 'I wish you nothing but the best. Take care of yourself, Dorian.'

The door handle was broken off, but it opened when pulled just slightly. Dorian watched him go, he watched him _leave_.

And in some weird kind of delayed reaction, Dorian realised what had just happened. That he hadn't _postponed_ telling Cullen he was in love with him, he'd let Cullen think he _wasn't_.

He began to move, stumbling a bit at first but he was about to gather speed, go after Cullen and _correct him,_ fuck the consequences, when a strong arm shot out from the side of the door and yanked him back.

Jassen was waiting outside, leaning against the wall. He had a tight hold of Dorian's wrist.

'Let him go,' he said evenly, quietly. 'You had your time with him. Now let him go.'

All Dorian's words got stuck, too many to come out so they broke apart, turned sharp and cutting, a sack of glass and he couldn't _say_ any of the things he wanted to. Useless, helpless, silent and he had _failed_ to do what he'd set out to, made things worse if anything. Jassen wasn't smug, he wasn't cruel, but he was so fucking _confident_ in his place there outside Cullen's dressing room, strong fingers around Dorian's wrist as if he had any right.

Dorian said nothing, breathed fast and wished he had the talent to be like Fenris, to hurt, to _kill_ even, but he didn't. He couldn't even pretend to be angry at Jassen for what had just happened, for how seriously he'd fucked up.

Jassen released his wrist and pushed away from the wall, heading the way Cullen had gone, the way that Dorian, for all his best intentions, could not follow.

*

_Stumbling through labyrinthine spaces, narrow and dark, all noise silent save for a horrible, high pitched ringing in his ears, Dorian tried his best to find the bathroom in time. His body was heaving, rolling and he was crying, sobbing so hard that it was inevitable, too extreme a reaction and he was going to be sick, could not suppress it._

_He found the shabby, dirty row of stalls, practically fell through the door. He crashed to his knees hard enough to hurt, back rolling and up it came all that bile, whatever water he'd drunk that day. His body purged itself and twenty five year old Dorian wept as he vomited._

_He gripped the side of the bowl hard, body cold and shaking all over, irrationally terrified that he would be beset by people, by all their friends. He didn't want to explain it, didn't know where to begin, but his fear was unfounded. No one came, no one knocked on the door. Outside, the festival went on. A song started, horribly familiar and Dorian realised that they were_ playing _. Doing an encore._

 _Harry had fucked Seth, barely_ minutes _after proposing to Dorian live on stage and now_ _… now he was singing, he was performing._

 _Dorian retched, but there was nothing left._ He _had nothing left._

_Slow and clumsy, he wiped his mouth, collapsing back against the stall, tears free flowing, breath hitching. No one came and eventually, he hauled himself upright, needing to leave. That was what he needed to do, he could feel it. Leave. Run. Hide._

_Never, ever, resurface._

_His heart was breaking as he ran water, pooled his hands beneath the taps and swilled enough to gargle and then spit, acid of his stomach burning his mouth in unnatural fashion. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, like he was dying and his body was kind, hid the worst of it from him._

_The music was loud, thunder of drums and guitars, his boyfriend_ _… who wasn't his boyfriend anymore, bellowing that deep, controlled voice into the mic. Dorian gripped the basin of the sink with both hands, closed his eyes and screamed as loud as he could._

*

It had genuinely been a while since emotion had actually _caused_ sickness. There had been close calls, nausea and imbalance, there had been panic in the bathrooms, there had been a whole lot of running the hot tap but there at the fucking _Wireless_ festival, Dorian barely made it into a toilet before the entirety of that croissant came up.

Oh God.

He'd fucked it up, made it all a million fucking times _worse._ Why, why, _why_ hadn't he just… said it? Been honest? Swallowed his pride, done the dangerous thing for _once_? Taken a fucking risk and given Cullen what he needed? Christ, anything would have been better than this. Than breaking Cullen's heart _again_ and leaving him with Jassen _again_.

His stomach clenched, back heaved and sickness rolled through him, clenching and squeezing, familiar extreme reaction to the emotions within.

Miserable, desolate, he gripped the seat and let it all come out.

Dorian tried not to think about how Jassen had not interrupted, had not pulled him away. How it was apparently not necessary, that Dorian had, in fact, done _more_ damage being left alone with Cullen. Jassen knew he'd make it worse, was probably counting on it.

He had no clue where Fenris and Leliana were, maybe they heard the shit-show that was his _conversation_ with Cullen and decided to completely fuck him off.

Slowly, shaking head to toe, Dorian wiped his mouth and sat on the filthy floor, foul tang of lemony bleach and piss filling his senses.

Now to go back home, to never emerge or speak to another living soul as long as he lived. To exist in solitude for all time. He was useless, dangerous, toxic and a complete and utter fuck-up. Run and hide, just like _before_.

Cullen deserved better. Deserved so, _so_ much better.

Legs like jelly, he made it to the basin and ran the tap, laughing bitterly to see it ran non-stop, no need for Fenris's little trick. He washed his hands before he cupped them, took a few gulps of soothing, cool water. Dorian breathed slow, forced himself to find some sort of _centre_ and hold onto it.

He only heard Cullen's sad, quiet acceptance that Dorian did not love him anymore, what he'd taken in the absence of Dorian's action. Felt lips against the back of his hand and it brought up a sob then, heart rending thing because Cullen had always been tactile, had always been so fucking sweet and kind and Dorian… he hadn't even been able to offer Cullen _words_.

The weight of all his failure above him, Dorian trudged back out into the dark, slipshod labyrinth that was backstage at a festival. His VIP pass seemed to get him the access he needed, no one stopped him, at least, but when he got back to the dressing room, of course it was fucking empty, because apparently he'd been born under a bad sign or some such shit. He hadn't been expecting much anyway, knew Cullen would not be there, but _still_.

Someone with a headset walked past and Dorian dared to stop her, smiling apologetically.

'Uh, where's Cullen?'

She squinted at him and that flash of recognition should have hurt him more than it did. Really, how much worse could it get, anyway? She made no comment on it, only glanced down at her clipboard.

'He's up next. Are you part of his crew?'

'Uh, no, not really.'

'Oh, OK. You look familiar, that's all. His manager and bodyguard are out there, with him. I just thought you were with them.'

She had better things to be doing and Dorian gravitated towards the direction she'd vaguely pointed, supposing that it was time to find them and say goodbye. He had no place with them anymore. No reason to be there.

And as he walked, that _thing_ inside of him, his love for Cullen, man he'd once been, whatever it was, it hissed angrily at him. It snarled and it coiled, resentful of his _melancholy_ when he should have been running, flat out _pelting_ down the hallways he currently ambled through, should be running to Cullen, begging and pleading, saying everything he hadn't managed to before.

He ignored it, wrapping his arms around himself even though it was sweltering. Music began to fade up, amplified and yet not painfully loud. Piano first, guitar and then drums. Not a fast rhythm, nothing like any music he'd once been so _into_ while with his ex. It wasn't anything he could really categorise, limited as his knowledge was about music. Alternative pop? Soft rock? He didn't know.

The thing inside coiled tighter, flashed brightly and urged him _listen_. He looked up, realised he was where he'd aimed to be, Lee and Fenris up ahead, back stage right, watching the platform out of view. He knew where he was by simple virtue of how the _floor_ vibrated. This was where Dorian had stood, watching his ex play, watching and singing along to all the songs, knew all their word because he was a good boyfriend, he'd _cared_ about the band, how stupid was that?

A voice began to sing and that voice struck like _lightning_.

It started out soft, so much _feeling_ in it that Dorian could barely stand it and he knew who it was without needing to look and see, even though that was exactly what he did.

**_'I'm missing the good times that weren't even good,_ **

**_This toxic nostalgia got me sinking six foot._ **

**_Miss the girl that I hated,_ **

**_Miss the nights that were so rough,_ **

**_Just this sentimental feeling like this moment ain't enough.'_ **

Cullen stood there on stage, playing the guitar slung across his chest, mic before him, music playing in a way that threatened to rend his heart right out of his chest because it was a sad song, so many of Cullen's songs were, but this one was so _moving,_ it made it hard to breathe and his voice, oh _God_.

' ** _Feelings never honest, but my cynic's never kind,_**

**_And I'm just trying to find a balance,_ **

**_Trying to live a healthy life._ **

**_But what I feel ain't what I think,_ **

**_And what I think ain't what I feel,_ **

**_Just want to overcome my instincts, kill this beast inside of me.'_ **

Transfixed, Dorian breathed shallow, head _spinning_ , heart running wild.

**_'Yesterday's gone and tomorrow never comes,_ **

**_Still I'm living like they're all that I got._ **

**_Cycling through past memories,_ **

**_Put my hope in dreams so empty,_ **

**_This nostalgia's got me all tied up.'_ **

Dorian didn't realise how close he was to the edge of the stage until Fenris took hold of his arm and gently pulled him back, stark contrast to Jassen. It was hard to look away, hard to remember anything about his life just then, including who the fuck he was because…

Because Cullen was singing to an audience in the tens of thousands, singing to them with every inch of his self, nothing held back.

And so suddenly that it hit like a heart attack, Dorian _got it_.

Cullen was a superstar _for a reason_.

He'd seen him on TV, seen him standing before a mic like he was now but he had not _heard_ it. This was no small performance, no pre-recorded thing in a studio. This was Cullen singing live to thousands and his voice, it was doing things to Dorian as surely as if it was Cullen taking hold of his face with his hands and begging Dorian to say all the things he had not been able to before.

Cullen was singing live on stage, despite everything that had happened barely ten minutes before and Dorian, he could hear the heartbreak in it. He could _feel it_ , every single word that Cullen sang. The song was heartrending and so was Cullen, but there was something _in it,_ that made Dorian… just…

 _Fuck_.

This was why he was famous.

Not for some cruel prank. Not for notoriety. Not for anything beyond his talent.

Cullen was famous because he could sing like this. Because he was a fucking _artist_.

Dorian felt tears welling freshly, but not from heartbreak, from the total, undeniable magnificence that was Cullen singing to so many, the rapturous sounds of the audience's enjoyment only making it even _more_ emotive.

'Dorian?' Fenris was saying. 'Are you OK? Do you want to leave?'

'I…' he said, staring. Cullen's song was _incredible._ He couldn't look away, had never heard anything like it before.

'I know,' Fenris said, rubbing Dorian's back with his free hand. 'It's really something, eh?'

In the very few seconds Dorian wrenched his attention from the stage, from the man he loved but had failed to _inform_ of such, he looked at Lee and Fenris, really took in what he was seeing. They both looked sad, distantly desolate and it was all the more compounded when they looked out at him, at Cullen. Dorian tried to think of what he'd said to them. Cullen had left the dressing room with no hope, wanting only to isolate himself all the more from the people he loved.

Slowly, Dorian looked back at the stage as the song pulled him apart inside, as Cullen sang for the world. 'I didn't tell him.'

'Tell him what?'

But the song was fading up, morphing into something so affecting that all Dorian could feel was Cullen's emotions, then. The effect of it was mesmeric, siren-like. His pain and empathy were sinking into Dorian like water into sand. Strong, perfect voice that resonated deep inside Dorian, took hold of that man he'd once been and yanked him from the depths. Made him look around and see, see everything so fucking clearly.

This was his _life_ , that very moment. Dorian stood there and he realised, for the first time in so very long, that he was alive, he was living and he had a duty to live each moment to its fullest. To do right by himself. To do more than just _survive_. It made him want to shake himself, shake off what he'd allowed to smother him for so long. He felt _awake_ , he felt so present in the moment then and there, adrenaline running fast and fresh, purifying every emotion he felt, making each one crystal fucking clear.

Dorian loved Cullen.

He loved him more than anything in the entire world and nothing… _nothing_ was worth losing him. Not pride, not fear, not past hurt, old scars and new, nothing was worth being apart.

Not the media, not _Jassen_ , who stood on the opposite side of the stage, watching Cullen with a strangely affectionate smile, and not the mammoth audience, making their own soundtrack, epic rustle of appreciation and noise as Cullen sang and _sang_ , no longer using words, only vocals. Just his voice, shaping the song and every single feeling that Dorian had told himself he would never, ever allow music to evoke again because hope was _dangerous,_ love was _dangerou_ s.

Fenris was speaking, but Dorian couldn't listen. He was caught in the song, in Cullen, in the audience, in the _moment_.

And when it ended, Dorian felt _bereft_ , but he felt changed too.

The applause from the audience was near deafening and Dorian felt it in his heart. In the absence of that _song_ , one Dorian had never heard before, likely from the fourth and final album he had not been brave enough to listen to, Cullen thanked the audience, his voice magnified a hundred times, reverberating beautifully.

'Thank you so much,' he was saying and oh God, now Dorian was moving closer and Fenris was sternly asking what the hell he was doing, but Dorian needed to be closer, needed to see his face and from there, he couldn't. He went as far down the side of the stage as he could, well aware he was risking being seen, not caring in the slightest. 'I'd like to just take a quick moment before the next song and thank each and every one of you for all your support, for reaching out to me over the years and for always being there. I had a dream I never thought I'd see made real but through the hard work of so many who devoted their time and brilliance to me, through the inspiration of incredible artists I've had the privilege of working alongside, that dream became a reality. Thank you all so much for everything.'

Dorian's heart wrenched so hard he lost the ability to breathe.

Cullen was saying goodbye. He was _saying goodbye_ as if he had any right to after what Dorian had just heard. He was leaving it all behind, thanking everyone and… no.

_No fucking way._

Dorian pulled out of Fenris's grip and why were trained killers always grabbing his wrist? His heart was doing _oh so_ very crazy things as he stepped up quickly, too quick for Fenris to reach him and the man could not follow, not unless he wanted to be on stage too.

Like Dorian was now.

On stage.

He moved quick and nimble, avoiding the wires, thick ropes attached to lights, amps, machinery, cameras, all the stuff he'd helped with before, and headed out onto the front centre of the stage, leaving the safety of the shadows behind, moving in front of a crowd that stretched out like the ocean.

Dorian didn't think about the last time he was on a stage like this, didn't _care_ just then. It felt like another life, like it had happened decades ago.

The ambient excitement of the audience increased to such an extent that it rumbled in the concavity of Dorian's chest and he was walking with full control of each movement. He felt _strong_ and absolutely certain. It was a feeling that had eluded him for so long, but it was _there_ when he took hold. Familiar. The man he'd been before, the person he was before he'd been hurt, who he was inside. That man did not cower from stages, from _attention_.

And if Cullen could come out there, after what had just happened between them, _sing_ like that and give a performance of such quality… well, so could Dorian.

To his right, Cullen stood before a microphone, band behind him and they hadn't started the second ( _final_ ) song, no music yet but it was moments away from happening and now crew and security were realising that Dorian was _on the stage_ , wandering towards Cullen Rutherford. They started forward but he was too quick, made it to Cullen before they could nab him.

Cullen looked… oh, he was so _beautiful_. Barely any trace of the sadness Dorian had invoked. He was glowing, he was stunning, fucking _superstar_ and Dorian did not know how he'd never seen it, had to be fucking _blind_ not to know that the man he'd fallen in love with was this creature, this perfect man who sang for all the world and made it better with every passing moment.

'You're wearing my shirt.' That was what Dorian said, and _oh_ _dear_ , he was close enough to the mic that it went out all across the speakers, across the fucking _festival. T_ hey loved it, applauded like _thunder_ even as people grabbed him, even as they began to pull him away.

'Stop,' Cullen said and they did it, just like that. 'Stop, let him go.'

It was like Cullen was _God_ , his word was all that mattered. Dorian was hyper aware of it all, of every single person on that stage, of the massive audience, of the _cameras_ and how this was probably being broadcast _live_.

'Cullen,' he said, pleased that his voice had apparently chosen this precise moment to come out perfectly for once. Clear and strong as it rang across the festival. He took a short, deep breath. 'I'm sorry I didn't say it before and I don't know _why_ I was afraid to, but I'm not now.' He took a step closer, barely able to hear himself think over the sheer _din_ coming from the thousands of people, all of whom were watching and listening, rabid audience to Dorian's _big gesture_ and the only one who was silent, who was _still_ … was Cullen.

'I'm _not_ afraid now,' Dorian said, earnest and honest, letting Cullen see everything. He glanced out at the crowd, densely packed, stretching far and wide and he just smiled. It didn't hurt, didn't crush him, didn't make him want to run and hide. He was there with Cullen and it was… well, it was rather nice, actually.

Cullen wasn't _quite_ staring at Dorian like he'd lost his mind, but it was a near thing. People on the fringes of the stage were arguing loudly, people were angry and Dorian's time was so limited, he knew it, Cullen's word could only do so much.

He took another deep breath, stepping close enough to touch one another should they lift a hand, mic and guitar between them.

'I just wanted to say,' he said, holding Cullen's gaze with no trace of fear. 'That I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. You're not the bad guy. You're the one I love.'

The applause turned fucking _rapturous_ , reached a fever pitch that had his inner ears vibrating, had him wincing slightly even as he smiled and he _was_ smiling.

He didn't _care_ anymore about who saw it. Did not give a fuck. Cullen's heart was all that mattered. Cullen was everything and he deserved to know. It was already everywhere, it always would be. His _private life_ was non-existent and there was no going back. He had a Wikipedia page, for fuck's sake. He _was_ famous, he was recognisable, he always would be.

It was his turn to _use_ that, if only for this one thing. To make it clear. Make it plain. Sing it loud and sing it for all to hear. No uncertainty. No whispering. No take-backs. Three thousand pictures of Cullen had dropped for all the world to see. Dorian could afford to make a scene on a stage, if it meant telling his truth and having pretty much every single person on the planet hear it.

Cullen _was_ a lot, but so the fuck was Dorian.

And Cullen, for his part, stood there frozen, lips parted. It was all so familiar, so fucking _symmetrical_ and Dorian knew that later, he _might_ just slightly regret getting up on a stage at a live festival in front of countless thousands and baring his soul, but… _but_ he was done hiding. Done regretting. Done with the shadows.

'I love you, Cullen,' he repeated, having to raise his voice to be heard over the pandemonium, despite the mic, despite the amplifiers and every other mechanical device used to share sound. 'And I'm never _not_ going to love you, so yeah.' He glanced out at the crowd, lifted his hand in a small wave which had the _astonishing_ effect of increasing the noise. 'Sure you all recognise me,' he said, voice echoing across the expanse of human attention. 'I apologise for interrupting your festival, you can have him back in a second, I just wanted to make it clear, once and for all, that I'm completely in love with—'

It became suddenly difficult to speak because Cullen took his face in his hands and _kissed_ him. Cullen was kissing Dorian and it was all chaste, closed mouth and yet somehow, it was the best kiss of Dorian's entire fucking life. Eyes closing, Dorian wrapped his arms around Cullen's neck, smiling into the kiss, sounds from the audience too loud to even process as they screamed and cheered and applauded and he kissed Cullen back, gave him everything he could then, offered his heart and soul through that point of contact. Cullen's guitar was in the way and it sort of _dug in_ to Dorian's chest but he literally couldn't have cared less.

Cullen spared a moment to push it away, slide it expertly across his back and when it wasn't between them anymore, he wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist, lifted him enough to bring them face to face, Dorian just a little bit higher and Cullen kissed him deeper, kissed him _proper._

Dorian might never be able to hear anything again, such was the deafening nature of the audience they were currently standing before.

Cullen was turning him slightly, holding him so tight and Dorian thought his heart might really, truly burst this time. Explode into glittery pieces, tiny and perfect but Cullen had him, Cullen _had_ him and just as that kiss began to deepen, Dorian felt hands on his arms, felt someone pulling them apart.

Dorian broke the kiss, holding Cullen close as he whispered, 'You're mine and I'm yours, understand?'

Cullen nodded, nose rubbing against Dorian's before they were pulled apart properly and Dorian was mildly annoyed that it was Fenris doing the pulling, but better him than a SWAT team, he supposed. Dorian held onto Cullen's hand until he couldn't, leaving Cullen on stage, noise from the audience enough to reach outer fucking _space_ at this point and all Dorian could do was _smile_ because, despite everything they still had to deal with, he was so, so _happy_.

Fenris was swearing explicitly in a language Dorian didn't know and Cullen shook himself slightly, sliding his guitar back into place as Dorian was finally pulled from view.

Dorian heard him speak into the mic. 'Sorry about that,' Cullen said, the smile so _present_ in his voice. Dorian had done that. He'd put it there, made Cullen happy, made him as he _should_ be. Cullen deserved only happiness, only love, only the best and Dorian… for the first time in a long time, he _knew_ he could give him that. He was the best person for Cullen, the _perfect_ person for Cullen. 'Right,' Cullen's voice rang out, still with that audible smile, still blissfully _happy._ 'Where were we?'

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this, that scene has been a long time coming and we are now FIRMLY in the final arc (I promise) as things begin to get real, but at least our boys will face it side by side. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER:  
> Sweet, hot, reconciliations!  
> Whoops, we shouldn't have sex HERE, should we?  
> Oh, look, Jassen's playing nice!  
> Bull, the fuck do you think you're doing?  
> Cassandra, Vivienne, Varric!
> 
> 💜💜💜


	26. Can We Make It Right, Like It Was At The Start? (Sing To Me In The Dark, Sing To Me In The Dark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, hate that this is a day or so late, but I had a HORRIBLE, SAD weekend and unfortunately, that meant I couldn't edit and get this posted. Really sorry for the delay, but here it is and I hope you enjoy. Just want to take a moment and thank everyone once again for all the incredible amazing support and feedback. It means the universe to me. 💜💜💜

_Dorian was in the car park, knees unsteady, stomach empty, throat burning from all the bile when Harry caught up to him._

_'Kid, hey, c'mon, slow down, will ya?'_

_Dorian had never_ run _in earnest from Harry. He was bigger, faster and stronger. Besides, running had always been a_ thing _with Harry_ _. Made him want Dorian even more, loved to chase him, love to pursue him._

_So it was fully ingrained instinct, soaked in well-aged despair, that had him stopping outside in the cool, dark night, arena music thundering behind him. He had his arms crossed over his stomach, holding himself together in all ways possible and yet_ _…_

_He wanted it. He wanted an apology. Wanted to know what it felt like, just once, to be the wronged party and have it be entirely Harry's fault. Just one time, so he turned. He wiped his eyes, swallowing to see the man standing there. Messy, dark grey vest, showing off his upper arms, low slung jeans with no belt. The clothes he'd been wearing while he fucked Seth._

_Seth who was older than Dorian, who was far more experienced, who wasn't some pathetic, talent-less_ kid _. Seth who could sing, who could play guitar and rock the fuck out. Harry's equal if not more so._

_'I'm going,' Dorian said, teeth chattering despite the temperate atmosphere._

_'Look,' Harry said, stepping closer, seeming tired, a bit irritated, really. 'You don't have to run away like this. Let me take you home at least.'_

_Dorian wanted to slap himself, as hard as he could. What part of him had ever been so_ stupid _as to think Harry,_ Bull _, would ever apologise to him? He let slip a bitter laugh, so sharp it cut his throat from the inside._

_'I'll manage.'_

_'Aww, don't_ sulk _, kid, it ain't pretty, even on you.'_

_There was never any point in trying to fight the way he spoke to him, Dorian was more than used to it, well accustomed to letting his boyfriend say whatever he wanted, assume whatever he wanted about Dorian. Corrections had faded into accepting silence over the years so really, it wasn't even Harry's_ fault _that he thought Dorian was sulking like a petulant child. He saw Dorian how he wanted and slowly, Dorian had become it. Had manifested what his boyfriend wanted, but still… to think that Harry actually thought he was_ sulking _._

_It hurt, it cut like a carpet blade into his wrists._

_'I'm not.'_

_'Look, it was for the show. For the album.'_

_'What album?'_

_There was that grin Dorian detested. The grin that meant they were trying something new. Something Dorian wouldn’t like but would have to pretend he did. 'You're gonna love it, it's our best yet.'_

_'What_ album _?'_

_'It's all about you.'_

_Weak and uncertain, Dorian uttered, 'What?'_

_'Yeah,' the bigger man went on, definite excitement in his hungry gaze now. 'Been workin' on it for months with Seth.'_

_Months._

_'Were you_ _… with him for months too?'_

_'Fucking him? Is that what you meant? Christ, you're so meek, sometimes._ Fucking _, the thing we used to do, remember?'_

_Dorian couldn't feel his body. 'We s-slept together this morning.'_

_'Yeah,' Bull sneered. 'But we didn't_ fuck _. Look, it's been a fun couple of years, but it's done now.'_

_Dorian waited. He_ waited _like the stupid, glutton for punishment_ moron _that he was but nothing else came._

_'_ _…you asked me to marry you.'_

_'Yeah,' he snorted. '_ On stage. _It was for the thing, no other reason. You really think I’d marry anyone? Marry_ you _?’_

_Something cold and awful was seeping into his veins. Bloodless and icy, rendering his heart silent and solid. It was like death in practise, death at a fucking rehearsal dinner, step by step except he was still alive, still breathing, still in pain beyond the telling of it._

_'Look, I gotta go,’ Harry said, abruptly bored. ‘See you around, kid. Thanks for the ride.'_

_Dorian turned, unseeingly, back towards the dark, uncertain night._

*

'…UTTERLY RIDICULOUS!'

'…point in yelling, you're making more of a scene than—'

'I HIGHLY FUCKING DOUBT THAT!'

'—actually have legitimate access to this area because we heard you were fired, so—'

'Get your _hand_ off me before you become a cautionary tale!'

'Have to agree with her there.'

Dorian peered around the side of the commotion, security, crew, Lee and Fenris all having the most _annoyingly loud_ argument ever. He wanted to see Cullen, wanted to hear the song.

'Shh!' he bade, frowning with disapproval. Fenris smothered down a laugh, biting his lips into his mouth but Lee did not take well to being _shushed_. 'I'm trying to listen! Oh, is this _Swim Into The Tide?_ I've never—'

'WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?'

Leliana groaned and Fenris sighed, moving to slightly cover Dorian which was fine with him as it meant he could see Cullen better from such a vantage point, could hear the music his _boyfriend_ was singing.

And _all right_ , they hadn't gone over little details like that yet. Hadn't had a chance to talk somewhere that _wasn't_ on stage, but Dorian knew without any measure of doubt, that Cullen was _his_ , in whatever way the other man would give.

'Oh, this is a lovely song,' he said, standing on tiptoes to see better as Cullen sang to the festival, to all the cameras that Dorian could now see clear as day.

**_'It's a long way down to the bottom of a bad idea,_ **

**_It's a long way to sink without your love._ **

**_And I know there's always a reason to stay right here,_ **

**_But I find that I'm daydreaming of light from above.'_ **

'Who's idea was this? Leliana, if I find out that this was some bastardised attempt to improve his image at _my_ festival, I will—'

'Of _course_ it wasn't me! We would never orchestrate a stunt like that, not without—'

Dorian tried to get closer but security _did_ have a rather firm hold on him, admittedly. He peered over the biggest one. Cullen was playing again, was _singing_ again and Dorian couldn't help the beautiful, amazing feelings it evoked in him, like magic, like the purest, most potent magics on the _planet_.

**_'Where you go I will follow,_ **

**_And if it's dark then I won't hide._ **

**_Where you go, I will venture too,_ **

**_For you I'd swim into the tide.'_ **

'Did this get to number one?' he asked Fenris, not looking away from Cullen.

'YOU!' the newcomer bellowed. 'Who gave you leave to get up on my stage and—?'

_'SHHH_!' he hissed, not looking at the fierce-sounding woman, waving his hand at her. 'I've never heard it before!'

He got the silence he wanted and though there was perhaps a degree of astonishment about it, he couldn't care less. Look at Cullen, his _boyfriend_ , his love. He was so fucking amazing and Dorian was so, _so_ proud. He _might_ have been beaming.

'Leliana,' the woman said, low and somewhat threatening. 'You are a reasonable woman.'

'Eminently,' Lee sniffed. 'Cassandra, it was unplanned and it cut barely thirty seconds into your schedule. Take a deep breath and let us know what the penalty is.'

'That man has made a _mockery_ of my festival!'

'If anything, ratings and buzz will go through the roof,' Fenris pointed out reasonably. He looked at the men on either side of Dorian who were holding his upper arms. 'Let go of him now, he's not going anywhere.'

The woman, Cassandra, huffed. 'If you think I'm just going to—'

'Tell them to let him go or tell them to prepare for a fight, either way,' Fenris warned. 'They're cutting into his circulation.'

Ah, so that was why his chest had been feeling slightly numb. Dorian shot Fenris a grateful smile when the larger men reluctantly let go and Fenris wrapped his strong fingers around Dorian's wrist, locking them into place.

Leliana sounded bored. 'If it's _not_ a penalty, then what do you have in mind?'

Dorian vaguely heard Cassandra take a deep breath. 'There's a slot I need filled.'

'No.'

'The lead of _Fully Charged_ has a broken nose, a cracked jaw and an eye that’s barely open. He's insisting he's fine to perform, but he looks like he was dropped into a meat grinder.'

Dorian laughed happily. Everyone stared.

'What's the slot?'

'Three fifteen.'

'It's the dead slot, no way.'

'Leliana, you realise I could hit you with fines?'

'How? We _hardly_ planned this.'

'You _broke into_ my festival, brought this man with you, smuggled him beyond Vivienne's reach—'

'Oh, there you are sweetie!' came a new voice and Dorian was becoming mildly irked. They were all interrupting the _song_. 'My apologies, Cass! We were doing a walkabout from the box and I lost this one! My fault entirely, I suppose he's just a fan who couldn't contain his adoration for the talent.'

'Vivienne, if you expect me to believe that—'

'Oh come now, darling, do you honestly believe his management and security would sneak someone in just to shove him out on stage and make out with their client for ten seconds? That's just plain embarrassing, who would _want_ that for their star?'

'It's true,' Alistair agreed sombrely and Dorian turned to flash him a happy smile. 'We were doing the VIP tour and we lost him.'

Now that he was actually looking, he saw that the two new women didn't look especially pleased with him. Cassandra had a very short, severe haircut and a scowl that seemed deeply ingrained. Vivienne’s hair was shaved entirely down, but there was nothing harsh about it. She wore a floor length tie die dress, a delicate neck scarf tied with a flourish and her wrists were covered in bangles and beads. They both had a commanding presence, though in very different ways.

'That is the stupidest—'

'Alistair!' Dorian waved, standing on tiptoes. 'Did you see? I sorted it!'

Leliana pinched the bridge of her nose while Fenris kept right on biting down that smile and even Alistair seemed mildly exasperated.

‘Yeah,’ he chuckled. ‘I saw it.’

Dorian didn't understand what was happening. He was still very much _out there_ with Cullen, with the man he loved more than anything. With the beautiful song he was playing and _singing_.

'What's the remuneration?' Lee asked, quite casually as Dorian turned his attention back at the stage.

' _Remuneration_?' Cassandra spluttered. 'You expect to be _paid?'_

'Seeing as how he's trending number one and his performance will have caught the entire world's attention, yes. We do.'

'I do not believe you can even speak for Cullen!' Cassandra declared wildly. 'By all accounts, he _fired_ you anyway!'

'Do you see anyone _else_ here managing him?'

That _did_ make Dorian drag his attention from the stage, only for a moment though. He looked at the space where Jassen had been before, now vacant.

_Probably turned tail,_ Dorian thought smugly. 

_'_ That hardly gives you the right to—'

'Kitten!' came Isabela's voice in greeting before Dorian was swept into a hug, kisses planted on each cheek. 'What a _performance!_ Never thought I'd see the day that someone stole the show like that, at least not with Cullen! Oh, it was bloody amazing! Good kiss, yeah? Looked pretty fucking good to me!'

'Isabela,' Cassandra admonished sternly. 'This has nothing to do with you!'

'Oh, shove off, Ghastly! What are you complaining about? It'll be the most viewed clip in _Wireless_ history! You'll have triple your ratings number for the live show if you can get him to fill the other slot, not to mention the support and promotion you'll get from Stonewall. You should be _thanking_ this man right here!'

Dorian spared Cassandra a flash of a smile before he looked back at Cullen. The song was finishing up now, music slowing and Cullen was holding a note… perfect, strong note and he was doing that _hand-lifty_ thing. His voice stretched on past the music until it was just he and the audience and then… it _finished_.

The applause made it very hard to hear all the arguing, which was lovely, because Dorian could not especially _care_ about such things, not when Cullen was bowing, was waving and blowing kisses (what a _darling_ ) and the screaming from the crowd was literally such that Cassandra and Leliana were having to full on shout to hear one another.

Cullen came straight for Dorian, removing the guitar with care and passing it to a stage hand before moving into Dorian's space, not asking, not hesitating. Moved into him like he belonged there and he _did._ Dorian barely had time to hear Fenris mutter something resigned before Cullen took hold of his face and crushed their mouths together, hot and hard, dizzy sweet _need_ in all of it.

Cullen was breathless, he was hot to the touch and when Dorian flung his arms around his neck, he could feel how fast his heart was beating, he truly could.

'You were— _mmphh_ —amazing—couldn't— _ahh_ —take my eyes— off you!'

'Perhaps we should move this _away_ from the stage,' Vivienne suggested, dry amusement in her tone.

Cullen didn't seem to care and neither did Dorian, but they did move. Cullen was walking Dorian _backwards_ somewhere and they didn't stop until his back hit the wall. Cullen dropped down enough to pick Dorian up under the thighs and bring him higher again, bring them so much _closer_ and oh dear God, he could _feel_ how much Cullen wanted him now. Wildly, hysterically, Dorian wondered if they were going to have sex there and then. Cullen had always been intense but this… this was far beyond anything Dorian had ever felt, from Cullen _or_ himself.

It was wild and desperate and underlined with their time apart, with the sharp, painful edges of broken hearts and things said in anger. Dorian wanted… he _wanted_ so much. Too much. More than anyone could give.

Except Cullen, who could give him _everything_.

And Dorian… Dorian could give him everything too.

Oh, they were so _perfect_ for each other that it hurt.

He pushed his fingers through Cullen's hair, wrapped his arms all around him and kissed him with everything he had, nothing held back. He didn't _care_ , how beautiful was that? To let go in such a way and feel how safe he was, how loved, how _perfect_ the world could be while they kissed.

It was deep and possessive and so full, it elicited all the best feelings from Dorian, set his skin alight with bursts of shivery pleasure, turned his blood to rivers of pure fire, had his heart smashing against his ribs, wedging up into his throat and he didn't think a _kiss_ had ever had him this worked up before. There was no room to feel insecure, not when Cullen was kissing him the same way, not when he could _feel_ how Cullen felt.

'Love you,' Cullen was panting, so soft and so _low_ that it was only for Dorian, only for the man whose lips moved against his own, whose body met his, front facing with nothing held back. Nothing held back ever, ever again.

Life was short and love was rare.

'Love you too,' Dorian gasped, tugging on his bottom lip for a brief moment. 'Loved that _song_.'

Cullen drew back, expression wiping clean of everything except untainted delight. 'You _did?_ Which one?'

'Both,' Dorian said, pressing kisses to his chin, his cheeks and then back to his pretty lips. 'But the tide one, wow. Darling, your voice is _incredible._ Those are the lyrics that were on the ceiling, weren't they? Such a beautiful, perfect—'

Cullen kissed him deeply, kissed him rough and Dorian swallowed his moan, keeping it all for himself, _revelling_ in how much Cullen was affected by his praise. He needed to be closer, deeper, needed to _fuse_ them together in a way that would be permanent, so that no matter the distance between them, they would never truly be parted again. It made his head swim and his thoughts turn liquid, running through his body like a slipstream of heat and desire. It made him _keen_ and _cling_ and _kiss_. He wanted to _possess_ Cullen, to take his heart in his hands and forge a bond there. He wanted to be inside him, he wanted Cullen inside him, he wanted far, _far_ too much considering where they were.

Dorian was deep in his thoughts about how being _inside_ Cullen would feel, when Cullen broke the kiss. It wasn't abrupt, it was a soft release, a slow decline into amber lit passion, coiling and curling between them, a growl into a purr and Cullen's hand moved over his face, his neck, his chest, mouth planting one firm, lingering kiss before he stepped away, leaving Dorian momentarily bereft.

He took Dorian's hand though, interlacing their fingers, thumb rubbing over Dorian's knuckles, and that… well, that helped a little.

'Sorry, what?' Cullen asked, all bright and chirpy.

Everyone gave him a very flat stare, interrupted only by the raucous noises from somewhere down the hall, indicating the arrival of Dorian's best friends.

They were with a bunch of others, who were equally fired up. Sera came into view first, dragging Lana with her and when they spotted Dorian they both froze, clearly uncertain of what to do.

He slightly widened his eyes, nodding to the side, indicating they carry on. Lana caught sight of him holding Cullen's hand and smiled, dropping an unusually subtle wink and then they carried on with their merry, extremely _loud_ procession of drunk VIP's, headed God only knew where.

'Well,' Vivienne said pleasantly. 'Those are my people, I'd better go _reign_ them in. Cass, do pop a pill or something, that vein in your forehead looks like it about to blow.'

'Yes,' Lee said, breezy and professional. 'Why don't we _all_ go somewhere more private? The next act is overdue.’

'I am indeed,' Isabela beamed. 'Well! You two will just _have_ to catch up with me later at the after party, won't you? Oh, I can't wait to hear you sing again, Cullen!'

Cullen blinked, cocking his head. 'Again?'

'Wait,' Fenris said as they'd begun to move away, Isabela's team descending upon her in the moments before she went out on stage. 'Where is he?'

Cullen seemed to understand right away, looking in the direction that Jassen had been standing, but was no more.

'I don't know,' he said, only mildly concerned and Dorian's happiness _was_ such that even the material worry of someone like Jassen could not burst it, but it certainly did add some gravity to the feeling. He moved closer into Cullen's side. 'Hope he's OK,' Cullen added and Fenris rolled his eyes, sighing with a hint of ragged frustration.

'Darling,' Dorian intoned quietly. 'We're pretty sure he's an assassin.'

Cullen snorted a laugh. 'No, he's _not_. He's OK. You just need to get to know him.'

Fenris was quite patently mentally counting to ten while they walked. Alistair hung back, heading the same way Vivienne had gone with a small salute and a secret smile. Dorian couldn’t wait to catch up with him later, to hug him. 

As Isabela walked out onto the stage, Dorian could hear the applause fading up once more, heard her say into the mic, 'Well now that's an act to follow, isn't it?'

Cassandra led the way, _storming_ through the winding corridors of the pop-up festival construct. Along the way she snapped at a dozen people, corrected numerous things, answered so many questions that Dorian started to feel bad for her, for causing such _trouble_ , except he couldn't really feel bad at all, not when Cullen was holding his hand.

They went inside a room marked _management_ and Cassandra swiped a bottle of pills from her small, extremely laden desk, popping three and swallowing them dry.

'Now then,' she said, voice jarringly reasonable, all but the tremble in it. 'I am perfectly willing to speak calmly.'

'So are we,' Leliana said, having slipped effortlessly back into her role without so much as a word from Cullen.

'What happened out there was a grotesque misuse of my stage and rigorously planned schedule, _however_ ,' she ground out just as Fenris and Lee were about to speak at the same time. 'If you fill the slot, I will call that even and _not_ make it my life's work to ruin you all.'

'What slot?' Cullen asked pleasantly.

'Three fifteen.'

'Oh. That’s the dead slot.'

'I realise the slot is… less than ideal.'

'Why is it open?'

Dorian beamed. ' _Fully Charged_ can't perform. Someone beat up Harry.'

Cullen laughed. 'Yeah, _someone_ did. I'm not doing the dead slot.'

'Why is it—?'

Fenris glanced over. 'It's the time when people inevitably need to pee and start to get hungry. A kind of weird intermediate time when no one really listens and they go off to do their own thing before returning for the start of the evening show.'

'She's also not offering remuneration.'

Cassandra glared. 'This man walked out onto my stage, stole time and _kissed_ him in plain view of the entire world!'

'Well,' Dorian said with a shrug. 'I _am_ a really huge fan.'

Cassandra seemed right on the verge of an actual aneurysm. She rubbed her temples with long fingers, breathing deep and speaking through her teeth. 'I should not have to _pay_ you to do me a favour when I have been kind enough to keep our arrangement in the _first place_ , despite the press!'

'You already lowered the payment accordingly, that was no favour and you know as well as I do, good press _or_ bad, it's given your festival more attention than you could ever buy. You lowered the price, Cullen stupidly agreed and now you want a favour from him. Either pay him, like the star he is, or watch us walk out having fully fulfilled all contractual obligations, never to return again.'

'I could fine you!'

'You could try. It still won't fill your dead slot,' Fenris pointed out calmly. 'You could go out there yourself, tell a few jokes. Vamp for ten minutes but otherwise, you're looking at vacant air.'

Cassandra paled and then all that colour flooded back, tinted by anger. 'Fine!' she scowled. 'Fine, I'll pay.'

'Wonderful,' Lee purred. 'Standard rate for someone of his calibre, of course. Not the trifling amount you offered for his opening two.'

'Yes, _fine_. It had better be a good song!'

Lee chuckled. 'He's _Cullen Rutherford.'_

Cassandra glared off to the side. ‘I am _aware_. Very well. Have your contract department liaise with mine, but Leliana!' she warned. 'If that man goes anywhere _near_ the stage this time, there will be murder, I swear it!'

Lee tutted. 'Threats of violence so rarely yield results, Cassandra. Of course he won't be _on_ stage, he'll be right beside it, with us, where he belongs.'

'That was very sweet,' Dorian said as they walked down the hallways, Cassandra's door clicking shut a little firmer than necessary as security, the same _security_ that had been holding Dorian in their meaty clutches by the side of the stage, fell into step alongside them. Dorian didn't mind so much, they were there to protect Cullen after all. Cullen dropped an errant kiss to his cheek, wrapping an arm around his waist. It was all wonderfully… _wonderful_.

'Yes, well,' Lee said, a tad sharper as she fired off yet another message on her phone. 'Just because _she_ can't kill you, doesn't mean _we_ won't.'

At Cullen's dressing room, Leliana waved a dismissive hand the moment Cullen started to apologise. 

'We'll talk later,' she told him. 'Go take a breather.'

Cullen looked between his best friends. 'I'm so sorry,' he pushed on regardless. 'I really—'

'We know,' Leliana said, no trace of anger, only efficiency. 'And later, we're going to have an incredibly invasive, in-depth conversation about all of it, including why you think it's acceptable to push us away when we need _you_ as much as you need us. For now, go find your centre. This place is… not exactly friendly and you came without any organisation so we need time to make it secure, safe and satisfactory.'

A moment of silence hung between them, Dorian drawing what he _hoped_ were reassuring little circles on the inside of Cullen's palm. 

'I love you both so much,' was what he said after the beat passed.

Lee half smiled and rolled her eyes, phone between her ear and shoulder as she snapped her fingers at Fenris and he handed over his phone. 'We _know_ ,' she repeated, a little gentler that time. 'We're not going anywhere. OK? We'll come back in half an hour and regroup fully.'

'Fen?'

Fenris had been mostly watching the corridor, but when Cullen said his name he lifted light green eyes, such a different shade from Leliana's, to his friend.

'I'm still angry,' he said, quite calm. 'But not for the reasons you think. We'll talk about it later. We love you. And you Dorian,' Fenris added, moving his steady gaze to Dorian. 'We love you too.'

Lee sighed with a hint of playful impatience. 'Be less desperate for a three-way.'

Fenris dropped a very reassuring wink at Dorian before he shrugged. 'If I wanted a three-way, I'd ask Alistair.'

That made Leliana laugh, a genuine little thing, all musical and filled with mirth. It had Dorian smiling to hear it.

'Maintain position here,' Fenris instructed the two men who were at least double his width and had a solid three heads on him, height wise. 'What channel are you on? OK, I'll find your perimeter guys, do a full sweep. Do _not_ let anyone in or even _near_ there, understand? If it's not Leliana or myself, no one gets through. If you spot the one he was with earlier, Jassen, notify me immediately.'

The security dudes exchanged looks, briefly hesitating. 'Sir?' they asked Cullen. 'This man is your… head of security?'

Fenris shot Cullen a deeply displeased look. 'He is,' Cullen assured them, somewhat guiltily avoiding Fenris's glare. 'Defer to him for everything.'

They nodded and took position on either side of the door.

Fenris seemed displeased that his authority had been questioned. ‘I miss Thom. Can we get him here in time for the dead slot?'

Lee was distracted, but she briefly muted her conversation with someone and answered, 'Possibly, though I think his leg is still not great.'

Dorian frowned with concern. 'Oh, what happened to his leg?'

'He was injured crossing the road. Hit by a biker.'

'Is he OK?'

'Yeah, it was a while ago,' Fenris said as Leliana showed him the screen of his phone. 'About a month. I'm going to call him, ask if he'll come.'

'Is that really necessary?' Cullen asked. 'I don't want to trouble him.'

'I'll see what he says, but we definitely need more security after… well, there's a lot of _interest_.' Fenris glanced up at the security guards. 'Check in every five, understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Go relax, find your bearings. _Reconnect_ ,' Lee told Cullen, a tiny smirk affecting the last word. She turned away, un-muting whoever she was speaking with and then she and Fenris walked away. 'See you in thirty minutes.'

Fenris looked back and mouthed, ' _Forty five,'_ with a nod.

*

_Dorian didn’t know where he was when he called Sera, only knew he was outside._

_'_ Hey you!' _she answered._ 'Been a while, you OK? Bet you're pissed out your skull at a rager or summink, right? Dor?'

' _Uh,' he managed, blinking hard and trying to shake himself. 'I uh_ _… I need you to come get me.'_

_Sera's voice lost all it's typical bravado. '_ Yeah, course. Where are you?'

_'I don't know. Sera, he_ _… he proposed to me and then he…'_

'He what? Did he hurt you? Babe, where are ya?'

' _He_ proposed _to me,' Dorian repeated, blinking more tears down his face, the cool night winds moving over them, making him shiver. 'He-he asked me to marry him on stage and I_ _… I said yes but then later, he was… with Seth. Fucking_ Seth.'

'Stay there, I'm coming, all right? I'm—can you send me a Snap Map, so I can find you? Or look around, see if there's a street name? Babe?'

_'He was smiling,' he whispered into the phone, eyes screwed tight shut as if that could stem the flow of tears. 'He didn't care that I caught him, he was_ pleased _.'_

'Dorian, I need you to look around and tell me where you are. Go into Google maps, send me a pin, anything.'

_'I was so fucking stupid. I was so stupid for so long and I—I put up with so much, more than I ever_ _… fuck, Sera,' he croaked. 'I feel like it's my fault.'_

_He heard a door slam, heard the clattering echo of her rapid steps as she hurried down what he assumed was her stairwell._ 'Nothing that prick does is your fault, all right? Are you coming from Download? You're near there, yeah?'

_He sniffed loudly, looking around. 'I think so. There's a pub opposite. The Blue Jackal.'_

_'_ Right, stay there, I'm coming. Stay there, you hear me?'

_Dorian nodded as if she could see it. 'I hear you.'_

*

The door was barely shut behind them when Cullen took Dorian's face gently in both hands, gold brown eyes moving between Dorian's grey, studying and seeking, no guile, only _love_. So much love.

They didn't kiss, though Dorian wanted it. It was a moment removed from time, suspended between the reality they were carving, the world they were choosing and Dorian _knew_ what Cullen was doing, he'd done it before, so he _knew._

Knew that Cullen was checking he was OK. Was reading him for any trace of hesitation, of regret. There was something in the way Cullen was barely breathing, tentative and fragile, that made Dorian let out a little sigh, eyes fluttering shut because… because it was so nice having someone _care_ this much again. Being in Cullen's presence, feeling that scrutiny, that level of understanding and loving devotion to his wellbeing. Cullen had been spiralling, he'd been falling apart at the seams and yet there he was, thumb stroking gently along Dorian's cheekbone, expression relaxing around the edges only when he'd ascertained what he needed to.

Dorian lifted his hands to wrap fingers loosely around Cullen's wrists, stroking the skin, following the downward trajectory all the way to the crooks of his arms and then up, up along the rolled sleeves of his _own shirt_ , the purple one which Cullen made look impossibly _good_ with torn jeans and _All Stars_. With a tiny bit of eyeliner and his curls artfully mussed. With that aftershave and the smell of his skin as Dorian turned his face into Cullen's wrist, planting a kiss right on the pulse point, seeking the source of his natural scent, loving his blood and his bones, the very essence of him, right down to the last molecule.

A bunch of tiny moments removed from time and when combined, they collided and surged like atoms, like the elements of a summer storm, like fire and oil. Dorian's lungs tightened as if drawing _down_ and everything swayed, the whole world shifted and then dropped out from under him, sending his nervous system through the roof, but Cullen had him.

Dorian's need turned physical, turned _desperate_. All that had been air and mist was turning solid, was heavy in his chest and his insides were groaning with the pressure of his _love_ for Cullen, his sheer fucking adoration. Love was not the word, there had to be a new word for it because it was everything. It was too much and not enough, it was painful and it was utterly perfect.

'God, I missed you,' Dorian said, panting with the effort of restraint now, barely holding himself back and the only reason he could was for Cullen, letting Cullen make the choice. When Dorian had left, he'd taken that choice, removed any agency from Cullen's side of their relationship and he knew, he _knew_ this had to be Cullen's choice, not least because once they kissed, there would be no stopping, no going back. Cullen had to choose.

'I'm sorry for everything.'

Dorian pressed another open mouthed kiss to that place where he could feel Cullen's pulse. 'I'm sorry too.'

He was so proud of Cullen for _not_ jumping in and telling Dorian he had nothing to be sorry for. The whole _even ground_ thing was nice and he wanted it to stay that way.

'You were so amazing out there,' he said, low and sweet, half mesmerised by the way his words _touched_ Cullen, reached that place inside the man he loved more than himself. 'I _know_ you, Cullen. I know all of you now. I accept you, for who you are, completely, you know that, right?'

Cullen's nose rubbed lightly against Dorian's, eyes closing for a brief second as he swallowed loudly, audible even over the distant roar of crowds and music. He circled his arms around Dorian's neck, one palm flattening as it moved down his back, the other moving up into his hair from the nape and when his lips brushed Dorian's, the bulk of all that _control_ broke, giving way to the flood within.

Dorian kissed him, lips moving against lips and tongue pushing inside, curling against its counterpart. His eyes fell shut, hands fisting the flimsy material of that shirt, the one Cullen had chosen to wear even though it was beyond _silly_ , beyond improper but then Cullen had always liked keeping a little piece of Dorian close, had worn the body glitter night after night when he'd performed.

He slanted slightly to make it deeper, to make the kiss positively indecent and when he moaned, Cullen swallowed it, wrapped around him even more, cinching them closer, skin to skin, hearts and hard ons, love and need in that terrible little room where he'd almost broken Cullen's heart less than an hour ago.

'I missed you,' Cullen muttered, in between kisses, in between Dorian popping the buttons of the shirt and divesting him of it, hands planeing over muscle and skin, hot and flush and God, but Cullen was _his_ , he was all his forever and Dorian would _kill_ anyone who tried to take him by force, kill anyone who ever hurt him again. 'Was lost without you and I—I know that's not healthy or good to say that, but I _was_ , I—'

Dorian kissed him soundly then, shutting him up. 'I was too,' he assured the other man, lips moving lightly, making movement and sound. 'Felt like I was dying, Cullen, couldn't bear every single _moment_ away from you.'

They were panting against each other now and there still remained a thin barrier of control, of waiting before they gave in and handed over to primal need and desire.

Cullen's brow creased and his eyes closed again, kissing Dorian slow, shaking all over. Their lips were _just_ brushing when he whispered, 'I love you, Dorian. I’m so, _so_ in love with you.'

There was a slight possibility that Dorian blissed out there and then, with Cullen to hold him up there was no way of knowing, but it didn't take long for him to come back to himself, eyes stinging with the best kind of tears, heart hurting the _right_ way, all his body just a poor container for the kind of emotion he'd promised to protect himself from last year because another had wielded it with cruelty.

Cullen would never hurt him. Cullen would _die_ before he hurt him and Dorian could feel it then, between them, inside them, in every single movement, word and breath.

'I love _you_ , my beautiful Cullen,' Dorian moaned, pulling lightly on the curls at the base of Cullen's neck. 'God, you have no idea how much.'

'Show me.'

Dorian smiled, he couldn't help it. That light that had blossomed in his chest the first time they'd kissed out there on the stage, it flared and shone all the brighter. He placed his hand atop Cullen's chest, bare and beautiful, heart thudding beneath it. For a moment, he forgot his intent, forgot that he was about to _show_ Cullen beyond any shadow of a doubt how much he loved him, how deeply it ran and he just… felt him. Let himself _feel_ Cullen, stood there, existing. Heart beating, breathing, alive and so fucking perfect that Dorian couldn't help but wonder if Cullen hadn't been designed for him, made only for him.

He held his hand there until Cullen looked down, placed his own hand over Dorian's, strange little frown in place, confused vulnerability blending with his desire. Dorian watched him swallow, watching the movement, skin and muscle and emotions in every part of his living being, love in his blood. It was a strange realisation, powerful thing, to suddenly _know_ that Dorian loved him so much. Loved the bones of him, each and every part of his body, his mind, his heart. It was weirdly _terrifying._ To love something so much and to have that love contained by something so breakable. Skin was _breakable_. Dorian's eyes moved slowly to Cullen's mouth, his fucking _gorgeous_ mouth and with the tip of his finger, he traced that thin scar, tiny line that spoke of how someone had once come at Cullen with intent to hurt, cut and maybe even kill.

'You're so beautiful.'

It was a fragile thing, perhaps all the more beautiful for how truly breakable he was, they both were. Precious, because they were finite, mortal and so very human.

And it had come close, hadn't it? Had come close to Dorian locking himself away forever, to Cullen spiralling, isolating himself and _hurting_ himself and this right there, that moment might not have been. Dorian could be at home, knowing _nothing_ about any of this.

He didn't realise he was crying until Cullen's fingertips touched the wetness, followed a thin trail down his cheeks the same way Dorian was tracing his scar. They were flush, pressed together and so tangled, _tangled_ and lost in one another, in the overload, in the emotions, in the abundance where before, there had been nothing but empty suffering and sadness.

Dorian closed his eyes, exhaling shakily; serrated, sharp thing that he let go of, resting his forehead against Cullen's. He took comfort in their closeness, in the feel of warm bodies and beating hearts. He was _there_ , they were together.

Nothing else mattered, not in that moment.

It was a slow kiss to start, Dorian did not let it deepen that time. It was slow and unbearably sensual, lips caressing for a single kiss and then moving back, hovering, teasing almost. Cullen made a broken, half desperate little _keen_ and Dorian smoothed his hands down his chest, sliding his belt slowly free, movement born of reassurance.

_Trust me,_ it said and Cullen did, Dorian could tell. Could feel it, see it. He withdrew the leather from each loop until it was gone, dropped to the ground and then he popped Cullen's buttons one by one, Cullen controlling his breathing, hands running over Dorian, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt to lift it, to find skin to touch, play with, _love_.

'You can be quiet for me, can't you?' Dorian murmured, lifting his gaze to Cullen, looking at that man through his lashes.

'Yes,' Cullen said without hesitation, leaning in to capture Dorian's lips in a breathless kiss, inhaling deeply as he tasted him, as rough fingers pushed Dorian's waistline down, as Dorian walked Cullen back, taking control seamlessly with that one movement, with that one question and Cullen wanted to _give it_ , Dorian knew. He just wondered if Cullen would want to give… more. 'Anything for you.'

The room was tiny and it was _humid_. Every breath had his skin prickling, each exhale comparatively cool as it rushed over his damp expanse of flesh. Dorian was hot, he was hot _inside_ and out, his need slowly burning brighter and higher, swelling within.

'I want,' he whispered, voice catching a little and he swallowed to lubricate the request. 'Darling, I want to be inside you.'

This close, he saw it when Cullen's gaze turned _glassy_ , felt that extra hard _thud-thump_ of his heart when it skipped and then came back all the stronger, all the more eager.

'I know you're a top and we've never really—'

'Yes. Definitely, _please_. Yes.'

Dorian smiled and kissed Cullen harder that time, kissed him and let it tangle, let it catch. Less teasing now, less demonstrative because that would happen when he was inside Cullen, when he was fucking him, when he was inside that tight, perfect clutch.

Near breathless with desire, Dorian started to undress him, started to peel away the remaining clothes. It would be imperfect, it would be fairly _rushed_ , but it had to happen, Dorian couldn't argue any other way. There was a chasm, carved deep and dark and he needed to weld it shut, he needed it. He wanted Cullen, he _needed_ to fuck him.

'Christ, look at you,' he said, lowering his own jeans only enough to fuck his boyfriend, waistband hanging low just beneath his cheeks and his cock was painfully, insanely hard, worryingly so. It had been an entire month since he'd even _considered_ himself to have needs. Depression was a wet rag atop a fire and with it gone, he was positively fucking _alight_. He was burning alive and he didn't want it to be over too fast, fuck time constraints, fuck anyone who tried to interrupt, who tried to knock and tell them _time was up_.

Their time would never be up.

'Dorian,' Cullen whined, throaty, deep and sweet and _fuck_ , he was so addictive. Dorian wanted him to say his name like that forever, wanted to trap them in these moments _before._ In the beautiful in-between of fumbling and kissing, of palms grinding, of skin rubbing and gasping, breathy little moans passed back and forth. 'Oh, please.'

'Please what?'

'Please fuck me.'

They were so close, every word had their lips touching, had breath washing gently over sweat dampened skin. It was intensely intimate, focal point of a world they were building and Dorian could not even _think_ of anything not in the darkened scope of focus.

'You want me inside you?'

Cullen let slip a small sob. 'Yes.'

Dorian kissed him sweetly, lovingly, fingers slowly working him open with the _organic vitamin E face oil_ that had been so _helpfully_ nearby on Cullen's dressing table. He knew he should turn Cullen around, press him against the wall, but he couldn't bear to, not yet. Every kiss, every look, every breath was fucking _exquisite_ to him and he cherished every single one. His arm burned and ached from the strain of curving around in such a way but it was worth it, to see every second of this experience for Cullen.

'You've done this before?'

Cullen nodded, eyes falling shut as he bit his lip. 'Once. You?'

'No,' Dorian whispered, mouthing along Cullen's jaw, sucking that little spot just under his ear as he slipped his index finger deeper, right to the knuckle. 'Never.'

Cullen made a sound that resonated in Dorian's chest, glued together like they were, he could _feel_ every rumble, every single time his vocal chords vibrated.

'Fucking love you, so much, _too_ much. Do it, I want more.'

'You want more?'

'Yes,' Cullen panted softly, _quietly_ as Dorian had bade. 'More, _please_.'

Dorian obliged, adding a second. Though the force of how badly he wanted Cullen was something that threatened to swallow him whole, he fought to remain control. They _needed_ it, no denying that, but Dorian would make it as close to perfect as he could, even despite their surroundings.

By the time he had three inside Cullen, they were both shaking with it, poor containers for the thrumming, vibrating _feelings_ inside and Cullen was delicately begging in a near constant stream of pleas, kissing Dorian after each one, his throat thick and voice heavy with the effort of begging in near silence.

Dorian walked him into the wall, kissed him deeply and then turned him around, every nerve ending in his body twisting in dangerously _tight_ anticipation, the kind that he was sure humans weren't meant to feel, let alone _prolong._

His gaze drifted down Cullen's back, over the deep indent of his spine, the dip right before the rounded globes of his pretty backside. Strong legs and defined thighs and yet somehow, it was the most _vulnerable_ he'd ever seen Cullen. No amount of muffled confessions beneath covers, no amount of tasting tears while kissing and offering each other up had ever hit Dorian quite like this. He didn't switch, it wasn't really his thing but that was not what this was.

Not some passing fancy, not some playful experiment.

Dorian pressed wet, open mouthed kisses all along Cullen's shoulder blades, rubbing his lips back and forth over the skin, breathing deeply, scenting him almost. Cullen was braced on the wall, forearms flat, palms against the rough, rushed paint job on the plasterboard. He had his head half dropped, pretty neck all bared, offered up. It was a stunning thing, such an offering and Dorian could not rationalise it, could not make light or pretend it was anything less momentous than what it really was.

'Take me,' Cullen uttered, gently wrecked and Dorian felt the invitation like a hook in his naval, pulling him close, one hand sliding around over that flat, carved stomach, over muscles that jumped as he traced them, down to where Cullen's cock hung heavy and needy, steadily leaking precome. He wrapped his hand around it, a single move up and down, gathering the slick beneath his palm and making a beautiful, wet mess of all that hard, hot flesh. He shuffled closer, body leaning almost fully into Cullen.

It was too much, too much for his chest, his rib cage, his heart and his entire being because _oh God,_ it was love made tangible, it was devotion and obsession and the deep, plush, perfect _fall_ that was being _in love_ when he guided his cock head between Cullen's cheeks, seeking his well-prepared entrance.

'Do it, do it, do it,' Cullen was gasping, Dorian's hand slowly driving him wild and though he didn't push back, Dorian could tell he was close to doing so. The tip of Dorian's cock was pressed there, skin hot and slick and holy shit, was he really going to do this, momentous, magical thing that would put him _inside_ Cullen? He’d never really thought about it, _being inside_ someone he loved. It was pounding through his heart when he rolled his hips, careful and controlled and then he wasn't thinking about it, he was _doing_ it.

It was a tight, immediate clench and the pressure around the head had his breath punching out, shallow gasp as he fought for control. Forehead resting between Cullen's shoulder blades, he stopped once the head was fully sheathed past the ring of muscle. Eyes shut, he waited until Cullen's breathing relaxed, until he was calmer because it must have hurt, Dorian knew how it could hurt and he would die before he hurt Cullen, wanted this to only be perfect.

Painstakingly _slow,_ he began to push deeper. Cullen was so tight, but he was slick inside, Dorian had done a good job and as he let Cullen adjust, shushing him now and then because Cullen had always been _chatty_ , emotive and heartfelt during sex, this was different.

There was a plaintive honesty to everything Cullen was saying; crazy, beautiful things that, were he anyone else, Dorian would pass off as pleasure driven madness, but Cullen didn't say anything he didn't mean so each word drove _love_ deeper into Dorian, pushed Cullen deeper into him even as he pushed himself into Cullen.

When he bottomed out, he experienced a full on sensory overload. It was too good, too fucking _fantastic_ and everything in his body was hovering right on that glittering, glowing edge, ready to tip over, ready to snap, ready to come harder than ever before. It wasn't going to last, but maybe that was OK, maybe the way Cullen was babbling and pleading, openly keening as Dorian's hand moved over his weeping, swollen cock, meant that Cullen was close too.

Dorian tried to catch his breath, fought for control of his body for basic functions like speech and motor control. He wanted to say everything he was feeling, the way Cullen could. He wanted to put breath behind his truth and let Cullen hear it, feel it, know it.

But the only thing that came out was a drawn out moan, barely contained behind clenched teeth because Cullen, his darling Cullen could make all the noise he wanted, fuck who heard, fuck literally _anyone_ who dared be anything other than happy for him. He could make as much noise as he needed to and Dorian would keep quiet. He had him, _Dorian_ had him.

'Fuck me, Dorian, fuck me, make me feel it, make me feel every—agh, every part of it, please!'

Shallow rolls of his hips, that was how it started. Shallow and careful and _not_ drawing out and plunging deep like his instincts screamed for, not yet anyway. He had to grit his teeth and focus on that control, make sure he didn't drift into the slipstream of animal desires and fuck Cullen like he wanted. It was so primal, he could barely control the urge to _mark_ Cullen, to make him _his_ in some permanent, visible way.

He didn't need to, though. Cullen was his and he was Cullen's. It was right there, blindingly clear and nothing, _nothing_ would ever unmake it.

It felt like hours before he pushed deeper and faster, closest thing to the _slam_ his hips desired and Cullen turned his face into his arm, mouth pressing down hard on his skin. Dorian's free hand glided slowly up into golden curls, tangling loosely there and pulling just enough to angle Cullen his way to bring their mouths together, to kiss him while he fucked him, to kiss him while he _loved_ him.

Love had become a verb, had become a _method_ and Dorian couldn't shake the feeling, nor the intensity of it, that he was _loving_ Cullen by doing this. Fucking his perfect, tight, hot clutch, fucking into him, control fraying around the edges and that _love_ came closer to something like a _rut._ It wasn't mindless, because all he could think was Cullen's name, the _shape_ of the man he loved filled his head and spilled over to every other part of him. Not mindless, but near enough.

'I need—Dorian, _please_ ,' Cullen begged, words somewhat muffled against Dorian's lips and the kiss could not hold, could not latch and lock and deepen because Dorian needed to fuck him harder now, needed to _be inside_ Cullen, needed to crawl into the core of him and never, ever leave.

'You want to come, don't you darling?' Dorian heard himself say, voice shattered and rough. 'You want me to make you?'

Cullen whined, shoving back. 'Make me, make me, _please!'_

Dorian's hand left his cock, glided along his arms, fingers twining with Cullen's, pressing his hands back into place against the wall. Then he started to fuck him in earnest, giving control, inch by inch, to that swirling, downward primal _pull_.

'I will,' Dorian promised, biting the bottom of Cullen's ear, driving into him _harder_ and Cullen's length was abandoned, no friction, no pressure, nothing, but Dorian knew he didn't need it, was close enough to come on just this, just _him_. 'You're going to come from my cock, aren't you? So _good_ for me, Cullen.'

Cullen's head fell back against Dorian's shoulder, their cheeks brushing as a strangled sound filled the air, unbearable pleasure and the inability to contain it. Cullen almost lax, so pliant and giving and Dorian had to bite his bottom lip _hard_ not to come just from that.

With his head back, Dorian moved his mouth to the side of Cullen's throat, pale expanse, glorious offering and he sucked a deep, wet bruise into his skin and Cullen moaned and made those beautiful, perfectly punctuated breaths, one for every time Dorian's cock vanished into his arse, plunging deep and creating all that _feeling_ born of movement, of friction. Of touching, of loving, of being so alive it pushed the boundaries of death. Too much, _too much_ and nowhere near enough.

It was coiling, pulling down like a spring, making everything in Dorian's lower half feel too tight, pleasure cresting and building in a way that he was almost afraid of, such was the intensity. He’d never felt anything like it, had never felt what it was to have someone he loved wrapped tight around him. Verging on delirium, Dorian pulled his mouth away with a loud, obscene _pop_ , having left the most _beautiful_ mark there, dark red and deeply delicious. He moved his wet lips to Cullen's ear. 'Look down, darling.'

With effort, Cullen did as he was told. Dorian followed his focus, looking down at that glorious, _gorgeous_ cock that Dorian knew so very well. It was strained and almost purple, thickly engorged and just looking at it made Dorian's own ache and throb in phantom sympathy. The head was streaming precome and every thrust of Dorian's hips had it jutting forward, bobbing and moving and driving Cullen to distraction, hands on the wall.

'Your cock is going to come without anything touching it,’ he breathed, teeth grazing the shell of Cullen's ear and oh _fuck,_ it was near. Thunder of a storm that would fragment the world, lightning strike that would split the sky. 'You're going to do that for me because I've got you, because you're _mine_ , aren't you?'

'Yes,' Cullen gasped, barely any voice in it, barely anything but a stuttered breath. 'Yes, I am.' He pulled one hand free, wrapped it around the back of Dorian's neck and brought them face to face. 'And you're mine, Dorian.'

Dorian smiled even as it approached, even as it slowly, incredibly _built_ and pulled; taut, brittle thing that was going to _shatter._

Noses touching, breaths mingled, Cullen's whole body tensed, expression screwing into that pretty face he made when he was about to come, only this was so different, so much _more_.

The noise he made, broken, beautiful thing that resonated deep, it hit Dorian like a mallet to a gong. Tipped him over the edge, snapped the remaining barrier and finally, _finally,_ Cullen's tight body and the velvet heat of him around Dorian's cock became too much to handle.

Dorian's eyes rolled all the way back as he was subject to wave after _wave_ of that other-worldly pleasure, shockwaves of pure magic, love made manifest and he was coming so, so much that he could almost feel his soul being sucked right out of him, like he wanted to flee his skin and live forever in Cullen.

He fucked it all into him, deeper and harder, skin slapping loudly and Cullen was sobbing, he was fucking _sobbing_ , breathless and as near to quiet as Cullen could be. 

Hips rolled a few more times and then they slowed. As that movement lessened, sensitive skin becoming _too_ sensitive, Dorian began to feel abruptly _boneless_. His breathing slowed but each inhale was still deep, dragging what oxygen it could from that airless room they had well and truly exorcised. He dropped his forehead to Cullen's shoulder, kissing his skin and sliding his arms around Cullen's waist, holding him even as he remained inside him, still and softening, slick and sticky and so fucking _in love_.

It was only Cullen leaning against the wall that prevented them from tumbling to the ground. Dorian's dizziness slowly passed, eased enough for him to lift his head, rubbing Cullen's stomach, up his chest, over his nipples where he couldn't help but linger, playing and pinching. Cullen laughed then, breathy and amused, taking Dorian's hands away.

'Don't start something you can't finish,' he panted gently, turning around. He tipped Dorian's chin up just a fraction, planting a sweet, light, but oh so _lingering_ kiss to Dorian's lips. He wrapped his arms around Dorian, hugging and holding as they kissed, perfect embrace that Dorian did not want to ever end.

They didn't talk about it, didn't comment on the experience. Dorian wouldn't even know where to start, he just kissed Cullen back, so overwhelmed, so grateful, so in love, so happy, despite the state of their lives and all the dozens of things that needed attention, needed fixing.

'I love you,' he kissed into Cullen's mouth, tongues lazily brushing. 'Love you so much.'

'Love you more,' Cullen promised, smoothing Dorian's hair back. 'We should shower.'

Dorian blinked. 'They have showers? You might have to carry me there.'

Cullen shrugged, picking Dorian up in that _way_ he did and for a moment Dorian half panicked because Cullen was bare arsed with Dorian's spend quite _literally_ leaking out of him and while he was unabashed, proud and no longer shackled by shame, that might be—

'Oh,' he said, feeling intensely stupid when Cullen moved three feet toward the back corner of the tiny room, opening another door he hadn't even seen. 'Right.'

Cullen kissed him as he lowered him down on the floor, closing the bathroom door behind him. 'Did you think I was gonna walk you through the crowded hallways of a festival?' Affectionately teasing and so very adoring, Cullen chuckled when Dorian frowned. It was small, but extremely clean and there was a narrow shower beside a tiny sink and toilet. 'I always have a bathroom attached to my dressing room. It's contractual.

Cullen ran the shower, adjusting the temperature while Dorian sat down, nature taking its course. Cullen glanced over, delighted.

'Aww, you're peeing in front of me!'

Dorian squinted, pretending to be appalled. 'Fuck off, weirdo.'

'We're clearly married now,' Cullen beamed, surprisingly _energetic_ for someone who'd been fucked to point of untouched orgasm. 'Hurry up so we can get squeaky clean. I want you to wash my hair.'

Dorian shook his head and grinned. 'What a diva.'

*

It should have been mildly alarming when they emerged from the bathroom, freshly clean and smelling of Cullen's favourite shampoo, to find Leliana and Fenris inside the dressing room with a small rack of clothes, shoes and accessories.

'Ah, at last,' Lee said, barely looking up from her phone. 'We assumed you'd need a change of clothes.'

Dorian wondered if he should have been indignant, but he was just immensely grateful. He’d sort of _missed_ the racks. 'Thanks,' he said, looking cautiously between them. 'Was it— were we longer than agreed, then?'

'Just a tad. You can go ahead and thank your energetic friends for staging an impromptu backstage party down the hall, playing music loud enough to cover for your own private rendition of Cullen's base notes.'

OK, that time Dorian definitely felt something like indignation, though it was very hard to sustain when Cullen - who didn't seem to notice the snark or care if he did - wrapped his arms around him from behind, dropping a kiss to his bare shoulder, asking, 'What should I wear?'

'Oh, right, you're performing again.'

Fenris smirked. ' _Forgot_ , did you?'

Dorian threw an especially glittery shirt at him which he caught without even looking. 'Not _this_ ,' he said, quirking an eyebrow at the terrible item of clothing.

'So,' Lee said as Dorian searched the rack. She was looking at _Dorian_ , not Cullen and so he assumed it might not be _Triad Apology Discussion_ time. He steeled himself.

'Right, OK.'

He was about to come under fire (proper fire, now they were alone) for what he'd done on stage. Dorian knew it was warranted. He shouldn't have gone out there, shouldn't have caused such a scene, but—

'We'd like to incorporate you into our legal umbrella of protection and representation.'

Oh. Wait, what?

'What's that now?'

Leliana sniffed. 'Exactly what I just said.'

'Yeah, it's just that made no sense because I'm a normal human, so.'

Fenris gave a small, amused snort and handed Cullen a pair of dark, faded jeans. 'Those days are long gone, my friend. And what we're asking,' he added in his lovely soothing voice. 'Is to bring you under our wing. To let us protect you, handle all press on your behalf, represent you, such as it were.'

Cullen gave them both a pleased smile, dropping his towel and dressing there and then, entirely heedless of his own nudity with the people he loved most. Dorian was too caught up with the whole, "bring you under our wing," thing to feign exasperation about it.

'Obviously,' Lee went on. 'When we say _represent,_ we mean manage public perception, potential libel suits, legal matters. Give you access to the mutual funds, the accounts, all those kinds of things, but we can discuss all the finer points of that at the end of the day.'

Dorian laughed, pulling boxers on _under_ his towel, because he had a modicum of _decency_ , thank you very much. 'Oh hang on, you're offering to let me add my pittance of an income into your account are you? Pool everything with you and have my own card?'

Far from insulted at his tone, Leliana gave Dorian a smile.

'Yes, exactly. I'm glad you're catching on. Those are smaller details, as I said. For now, the priority is protecting you. There is _quite_ the media storm brewing outside these walls and we want to move forward as a team, operating together, to protect you _fully_ this time.'

'And how would you do that?'

'By facing it head on.'

'That sounds… not fun.'

' _You_ won't have to do anything,' she explained patiently. 'In fact, it's better if you don't make any attempts to tackle the press,' her gaze slid to Cullen, brow dipping in mild disapproval. 'Literally _or_ figuratively.'

'He had that coming,' Cullen tossed out easily, unconcerned.

'It was a decent punch, at least,' Fenris added with a tiny hint of amusement. ‘And you didn't break your thumb.'

Leliana's glare silenced him and she went on, more severely than before. 'Needless to say, there is an inordinate amount of _mess_ that requires attention and what I am offering… _asking_ of you, Dorian, is to come back inside the inner circle, but fully. Not as a guest or a passer-by.'

A cheeky grin split his face. 'You're asking me to marry Cullen?'

Where _normal fucking people_ would have snorted and laughed, Leliana tilted her head in thoughtful acknowledgement, nothing whatsoever between the three of them representing amusement. 'Yes, I'm sure that's on the cards for next year, possibly the year after if you think you can hang on that long. In two years’ time, we finalise the purchase of a larger chunk of the island, so we could theoretically—'

'I was—I was _joking!'_ Dorian spluttered, cheeks going slightly red. 'Fucking hell, I was joking!'

Lee gave him a distinctly unimpressed up and down while Cullen kissed his shoulder, asking which belt he liked better. 'We rarely joke about such things,' Lee informed him archly. 'And I think it's safe to say that such a future is hardly _unlikely_. For now, however, let's focus on damage control. Are you happy for us to do what we discussed?'

'Yeah, of course,' he sighed, abruptly resigned to it all, small tingly feeling of happiness at the base of his spine because no matter what he rationalised it as, they _were_ asking him to be a part of their little family, no denying it and he… well, he wanted that. He loved them too. Loved their weirdly intense ways, their inability to do things normally. 'Thank you. I really appreciate it.'

'Of course. This means that we would, in turn, _appreciate_ a heads up if you intend to go out on stage a make such a scene in the future.'

Cullen made a _pffft_ sound. 'They loved it.'

'Yes, of course they loved it,' Lee explained patiently. 'They would also love it if someone tried to kill you on stage, Cullen. Declarations of love before the world are a little _tacky_ and not our aesthetic. Josie will have her work cut out when she lands, bless her.'

'Oh, excellent,' Dorian said. 'Josie's coming?'

'Yes, she'll be here by tomorrow,' Fenris said. 'I also spoke to Thom, he'll be here in an hour, which gives us another hour after to ensure security is tight enough before—' he stopped speaking abruptly, turning sharply towards the door, alert and instantly on guard, finger lightly pressing the inside of his ear. 'Coming now. Stay inside,' he directed at Cullen, Lee and Dorian.

'Who is it?' Lee asked.

'Jassen. He's not alone. Stay _in_ here, I mean it.'

He slipped out of the dressing room and clicked the door shut behind him. Cullen gave a miserable huff.

'Jassen's not a bad guy.’

Lee looked up at the ceiling, as if biding it give her strength. 'Cullen, sweetie, I love you to the moon and back, but your judgement of character in others is…’ she searched vaguely for a kind manner of phrase. ‘Not your finest talent.'

Dorian pulled his final button into place. 'I agree. You have to know at this point that he's not on the up and up. We wouldn't lie to you.'

'He was kind to me,' Cullen mumbled. 'And he never asked for anything in return. He never treated me poorly.'

‘He’s different to how he was before, even you must see that.’

‘Yes, he’s different, he broke up with Madeline. That makes a difference, believe me.’

Dorian hated that Cullen was too close the see it, that Jassen had so cleverly inserted himself into a role Cullen would empathise with all too well, blinding him in such a way. He shared a brief look with Lee who seemed to be thinking the same thing but as she didn’t launch into a judgemental tirade, neither did Dorian.

‘We believe you,’ Dorian told him, adopting the manner in which Fenris might have said it. ‘But maybe you could trust the people who love you most?'

'I do trust you. Of course I trust you all with my life. I just don't think you've had a chance to get to _know_ him yet. He's really nice and…' he added with a shrug. 'Kind of fun.'

'Fun?' Lee echoed doubtfully.

‘Well, he beat up Bull, _that_ was funny.'

Dorian gaped. 'He did that? I thought that was you!'

'I mean, I would have,' Cullen assured him. 'But Jassen beat me to it, hah, pun intended.'

Dorian's patience was hanging by a thread. 'And the fact that he was _able_ to beat up that mammoth arsehole doesn't seem the least bit… suspect?'

'Bull was drunk, it was dark. Maybe Jassen does kickboxing, I always wanted to try that.' Cullen's smile faded into something more serious after a few seconds, cooling under the weight of the looks from Lee and Dorian. 'OK, if you don't want him around anymore, then of course, I won't see him, but I just don't _believe_ he wants to hurt me.'

Gently, Lee said, ‘You never think anyone wants to hurt you.’

The door opened a crack and the din from outside slipped in, Fenris saying, 'Lee, Morrigan is here.'

Cullen and Leliana shared a brief glance. 'I didn't call her, did you?'

'I've been _trying_ for the last hour,' Lee said as they headed outside. 'But she hasn't—'

Dorian followed, trailing out into the very narrow hallway to see Jassen standing there with a tall, dark haired woman whose business attire was rather stunningly accented by a red shirt with a plunge-line that showed off her naval.

Fenris turned to Cullen, a blank slate of protection and control. 'He brought her here.'

'Oh,' Cullen said with a small smile that he then guiltily put paid to. 'Jassen that's… so kind, thank you.'

'It's not _kind_ ,' Dorian uttered and Cullen held his hand.

'That's really nice,' Cullen went on, evident strain in his voice. 'But um, you don't have to do that for me, uh, my _team_ , per se, is back in place and you don't… have to… do… um… these… things—'

Lee took over where Cullen was clearly failing. 'Your _friendship_ is no longer required,' she told him abruptly, no fuss, no muss and Dorian wholeheartedly approved. 'I don't know _how_ you contacted Morrigan, but it's not your place to do so, certainly not anymore, so—'

'There's a problem,' Fenris interrupted. 'We need to discuss it immediately, in private.'

The woman who was apparently _Morrigan_ looked around, hint of disdain and amusement in her sharp features. 'I doubt this place has conference rooms.'

'Jassen,' Cullen said, stepping forward which had Fenris gently putting a hand to the middle of his chest, warning him _not_ to. 'Why did you get Morrigan?'

Jassen, who had only really been looking at Cullen the entire time since they'd stepped outside, answered, 'I overheard something bad. Figured you were going to need your lawyer. Alistair has her private number.'

'Oh?' Dorian hissed. 'And how did you get that? Cloned his phone too, did you?'

Jassen blinked, looking at Dorian for a beat. 'I _asked_ him and he gave it to me.'

Morrigan's smirk turned into a half smile. 'While these dynamics are _fun,_ no denying,' she said in a wonderfully raspy, low kind of way, her natural voice quite mesmeric. 'I've been billing you since the moment I stepped outside of my house and it's the Saturday rate, the _Time Not Spent With Kieran_ rate which, after the last few weeks you've had, I'm starting to doubt you can afford, so perhaps we move somewhere private and speak plainly? This _is_ urgent.'

*

If Cassandra "Ghastly" Pentaghast hadn't been happy about providing her office for them to speak in, she was even less pleased about then not being permitted to _stay_. Dorian couldn't focus on her ire, on Lee's assurances that it was important and that they would give her a _dead slot_ to remember, that it was for twenty minutes at most. He held Cullen's hand and he watched Jassen, spine prickling with instinct that whispered to keep Cullen _away_.

Morrigan sat in Cassandra's chair and laid out a small folder from her briefcase. 'Ensure we are not being overheard,' she directed at Fenris who instructed the security team to do just that before they closed the door. Jassen leaned on a nearby wall and waited, arms crossed.

'Now then,' Morrigan said, aiming a sharp, shark-like smile right at Dorian. 'I don't know if they've mentioned me, but for the sake of formality I am Morrigan Korcari, partner of the law firm Flemeth & Black, on retainer for these three,' she said, gesturing with long, well-manicured nails.

'You're a lawyer?'

'I am _the_ lawyer,' she corrected. 'Last name in any case and the last shadow ever seen by any mortal who dares come up against my clients. I am the reason your little _WhatsApp_ messages never saw the light of day.'

'We met at University,' Lee explained, somewhat warily. 'We were friends, sort of.'

'Mmm,' Morrigan agreed. 'Despite that, I would not have come in on a Saturday for anything less than a favour to my darling Alistair, who you can thank later for my miraculous presence.'

'Why would Alistair help you?' Dorian directed coldly at Jassen, voice trembling with an undertone of outrage. 'He saw you that night, he was with me when you _drugged_ Cullen, he wouldn't—'

'Alistair agreed to help,' Jassen explained calmly, but interrupting Dorian with a hint of force. 'Because this _emergency_ involves you.'

'Involves Dorian?' Cullen was quick to ask. 'What is it?'

Jassen handed over to Morrigan. 'Before we begin, I can assume you've been absorbed into the mutual contract?'

Dorian blinked. 'Sorry?'

'Yes,' Fenris answered, back against the door. 'He agreed just now.'

'Excellent, so I represent _you_ as well as them,' Morrigan said. 'Which saves us a lot of time.' She took a small breath, consulting her papers. 'What will also save us time is honesty. This is a protected conversation and all three of these people will vouch for my silence in _embarrassing_ matters so, Dorian,' she levelled him with a stare that made him feel vaguely _pinned_. 'Have you ever made a sex tape?'

*

_The morning after, Dorian calmly made tea and breakfast, Sera snoring on the couch and he rationalised everything. He took several deep, steady breaths and he talked himself through the worst of it._

_He told himself it was fine. That he could cope. So Harry fucked someone, had finally had enough of Dorian and decided to get rid of him in a way that would_ hurt _. Dorian knew there had been little incidents here and there, cases where Harry had kissed others, but he never did more than that_ _… until now, or at least Dorian didn't know if he did._

_This was the first time he'd seen it, first time he'd really, truly understood that Hardiss didn't care about him, not at all._

_And though it hurt, though it cut him to the quick, it was_ _… oddly freeing. Dorian had survived heartbreak before, even though he'd never really let anyone get this close, let someone burrow so deep and_ change _him in this way._

_As he drank his tea and let himself feel the worst of it, he was_ sure _he could get through this. Three years with this man had brought Dorian low, had deprived him of certainty and security, had taught him to suffer and do so quietly._

_For the first time in a long time, he began to feel like it was possible to find his way back to the man he'd been once. He felt strangely hopeful that after the embarrassment of accepting a proposal live on stage, to then be dumped hours later, faded away, he could get his life back. Be_ Dorian _again, not just Harry's boyfriend._

_Yes, that was his plan. Get through the heartbreak, the betrayal and then come back, stronger than ever. He could do that. He was tough. He'd survived worse._

_There was a clatter from outside his front door, sound of someone dropping a heavy set of keys which meant it was Lana. That girl had the biggest bundle of keychains he'd ever seen, all manner of ridiculous toys and gadgets on the chain attached to the key he'd given her to use whenever she liked._

_He winced, hoping he wouldn't have to get his key back from Harry._

_He got up, warm tea in hand and was halfway there when she burst inside, hair in total disarray, face bloodless, eyes wide._

_'Dor,' she panted. 'Dorian, it's—'_

_'I know,' he said with a sad smile. 'I'm sorry I didn't call you, I didn't want to wake you, I know you're on nights all this week.'_

_'I've been trying to call you,' she said, tears in her eyes._

_'My_ _… phone's in the bedroom,' he told her, brow creasing, insides tightening. 'Why, what's wrong?'_

_She took a shaky breath. 'Dor, there's this video.'_

_'Of what? Me on stage?'_

_'N-no, babe. It's_ _… you're backstage and you're, well crying and screaming. It's on YouTube.' Before Dorian had time to let that sink in, to even_ remember _what his initial reaction had been upon finding Harry and Seth, Lana shook her head, indicating she wasn't done._

_'What else?'_

_'He's released an album.'_

_'Right, I knew that. He's been working on it for a while, all top secret apparently.'_

_'Dorian, he's saying it's about you. There's a link to it under the video. It's everywhere, the songs are everywhere. People are going crazy, tagging you in the lyric videos. It's_ _… really bad. You need to delete everything. Right now.'_

_Sera, who'd been asleep on the couch, sat up slowly, blinking blearily as Dorian put his hand slowly over his mouth, the world fracturing at the seams. 'Whass'appened? What did I miss?'_

*

Years of defensiveness, of living on the back-foot as disaster after _disaster_ came for him, it had given Dorian a somewhat derisive nature when confronted with painful, unpleasant things. The instinct to delay, to demand what the fuck she was talking about while, inside, he suffered something not unlike a supernova of _bad_ , that instinct was fully in play, but he felt Cullen's hand in his, felt the people in the room who cared and instead of blurting out a denial, he took a moment, looked away, frowning. 

'I don't know,' he answered honestly, tempering the stranglehold of panic. 'Is there one, then?'

Morrigan's stare was unflinching. 'There is.'

Panic under control, barely, Dorian inhaled deeply through his nose. 'He has it, Harry?'

'He does.'

'That's his… his plan, then. His _video_.' Dorian closed his eyes, huffing bitterly, insides tight like glass, threatening to crack but holding so far. 'Fucking _bastard.'_

_'_ I need you to confirm, verbally, that this was not something you participated in. If you did, you can tell me and believe me,' Morrigan added dryly. 'There will be no judgement. I've done far worse in the last forty eight hours. But if you did, I need to know.'

'I never knew he was…' Dorian cleared his throat. 'If he was filming me, I didn't know about it.'

Cullen's hand was tight around his own, the silence in the room overwhelming. Dorian appreciated not having to deal with Cullen's feelings then. He barely had his own under control.

Morrigan nodded and jotted something down with a gorgeous, deep green ink pen. ‘Spoken to him recently?’

‘No.’

'On the way here,' she said, tapping the small file on her left. 'I did a deep dive. Would you like the others to leave before we discuss it?'

Dorian blinked hard. He wanted _Jassen_ to leave, absolutely, but… he also _didn't_. The idea of Jassen wandering around unseen was actually somehow worse than him being where Dorian, and Fenris by default, could keep an eye on him. 'No, it's fine.'

'I'm happy to leave,' Jassen offered, gesturing at the door.

'No,' Dorian said, giving him his very best _dead stare_. 'You stay right there. Go ahead, Morrigan.'

She nodded, leaning back in the chair. 'There was domestic violence. You never pressed charges, but it's documented here, in nurses reports and injuries. Your _friend_ ,' she flicked her gaze at Jassen. 'Assures me that several of Hardiss Lilbourn's old crew would testify about his treatment of you, especially one,' she consulted her notes. 'Krem Aclassi.'

'What's that got to do with… this?'

'It's a foundation,' she explained. 'A pre-emptive defence to show that the video is, in itself, a form of violation and abuse. Now, my understanding was that he intended to showcase this video live on stage, using the overhead screen to do so. Some atrocious and gaudy attempt to gain attention for his latest _album_ which launches in a few days. I would assume he's not dropping raw footage, some edited version which would make you seem at least somewhat complicit in the recording.'

The slowly encroaching nausea hit the back of Dorian's throat and he had to swallow hard to control it. He tried to imagine at what stage in their relationship it was filmed, what they'd been doing, how much more his _ex_ would be showing off, showboating and performing if he knew it was being recorded. Was it early in the relationship or later? Later made more sense, but that meant it was the kind of sex that Dorian would not want anyone on the face of the earth to see.

'He's not _dropping_ anything,' Leliana said, quiet and forceful. 'Cassandra removed him from the slot because he got beaten up.'

Dorian's gaze moved to Jassen then, only slightly unnerved to find the other man already watching him.

'So I've been told, which means he might just upload it to Pornhub instead. Either way, this poses a severe threat and as always, my counsel is to _prevent_ the battle rather than fight it.'

'Pay him off,' Fenris said.

'Yes. Pre-emptive strike. That's my suggestion. _However_ ,' Morrigan added as Dorian looked back at her, sick with dread. 'This person, from my limited research, strikes me as one who will become a problem in the future.'

Fenris nodded. 'We know.'

'All right. I've already assembled a damage control team, they were busy with _your_ latest stunts,' she said to Cullen. 'But now—'

'Focus it all on Dorian,' Cullen said, voice barely recognisable. 'Whatever you need, Morrigan.'

'Well, _obviously_.' Morrigan sighed. 'I fear bankruptcy might become an option for you in the near future.'

'Just do what you need to,' Lee said. 'And keep us updated constantly.'

'Of course. How will you approach?'

Dorian shook himself. They needed to _approach_. Fucking hell.

'I'll go,' Lee offered. 'See if I can ascertain what his number might be.'

'That's a mistake,' Morrigan pointed out. 'If someone of your stature goes, he'll know you're desperate and will demand a high sum. Play this out logically, Lee.'

Leliana said something in French and Morrigan replied in kind, chuckling dryly, her razor gaze flicking to Dorian and away again.

'So touching,' she said, switching back to English. 'But I would bury your emotions for such a negotiation, if you insist on going against my advice. Not to mention that your attendance will make it plain that he's _really_ negotiating with Cullen Rutherford and his ever dwindling assets.'

'What do _you_ recommend?' Fenris asked her.

‘Get the file from him. Get it and destroy it, every copy. No trace, no code, nothing.’

‘That’s… risky.’

‘Hear no evil, see no evil, so spare me the details, but we all know someone like this, they can’t be negotiated with. Not long term.’

In the horrible silence that followed, Dorian turned his attention to Jassen. 'How did you find out?'

'I hid and I listened,' he explained simply. 'Hardiss was arguing with his co-singer, Seth, I think. Seth was insisting he could perform instead of Hardiss, that they could still drop the video and Hardiss was refusing, saying it would mean nothing unless he was the one performing, what with him being _in_ the video.'

'And instead of bringing this to us, you went right to Alistair? To Morrigan?'

Jassen smiled blandly. 'You and Cullen were busy. I wanted to help.'

'Why?'

'Cullen is my friend,' Jassen answered. 'You're important to Cullen.'

Dorian waited but nothing else came. 'That's it?'

Jassen was entirely unflappable. 'That's it.'

Cullen murmured a quiet little, 'Thank you,' to Jassen and before Dorian could even turn to _glare_ , Morrigan was up out of Cassandra's chair.

'I will work on the worst case scenario and hopefully, such extravagant efforts will not be required. Before I leave, there is another small matter,’ she said, looking at Leliana. 'I think you'd prefer Jassen to leave, though.'

'I'll wait outside with him,' Fenris offered, walking past Dorian and giving his hand a brief squeeze as he escorted Jassen out. 'We'll sort it,' he promised under his breath. 'Don't worry.'

Dorian managed a nod and something that failed entirely to become a smile. He looked at Cullen for the first time since Morrigan had said the words _sex tape_ and saw less anger than he expected, less second hand rage. Mostly he saw concern, he could practically _feel_ it.

'Shall I leave too?' Dorian asked Lee, somewhat uncertain.

She gave him a look that implied she doubted his intelligence on a molecular level. 'Of _course_ not. Morrigan,' she added. 'Tell me.'

'You were right,' Morrigan said without preamble. 'The interest is coming from them. From a shell company and from a front they both have ties to.'

'Fuckers,' Lee hissed. 'They bought the label?'

'Bought into the shareholders, yes.'

'Majority?'

'They will be, by next week.'

Cullen, who seemed to be understanding all of these _words_ , groaned quietly. 'Oh, fuck.'

'You still have time to buy them out, or combine additional shareholders' stakes, but at that point, you're going to be far below the threshold of reasonable security. I would add,' Morrigan said, placing her files back in the briefcase. 'That there has been similar _interest_ directed at his loft.'

Leliana wrinkled her nose. 'His loft? _Dorian_ 's loft? The tiny one?'

Dorian's jaw dropped. 'It's not _tiny_!'

'Yes. If there is any truth to the rumours about their debts, then they will not be fussy. There was a contested claim, yes?'

'Are you talking about my half brother and sister?'

‘Indeed. Maxwell and Evelyn bear no resemblance to you, though I'm sure that's a comfort. The Trevelyan twins are people even I would not represent without the lure of eight figures.’

Leliana was frowning deeply. 'Why would they want the loft? It's barely worth one point five.'

Morrigan shrugged elegantly, expression aloof and cat-like. 'Who knows how desperate they are at this point? Every penny counts, one supposes. I would tighten your belts and prepare to come under attack if they become majority shareholders. This is an enemy you _won't_ be able to placate. Find a head-shot and take it, that's my counsel.'

'I need to speak to them.'

'I would not make it obvious that you know anything yet. They've taken pains to obscure their movements. Maintain the ruse, use it as cover for now.'

'Thank you. Morrigan.'

‘My, what a _busy_ month for the billing department. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, at last, Dorian. We'll speak soon, I'm sure.' At the door, she looked back and asked, 'Where might Alistair be?'

Leliana rolled her eyes. 'That way, VIP box with Vivienne.'

Morrigan smiled, impeccable eyebrow slanting. ' _De Fer?_ Oh, wonderful. I'll be in touch.'

The moment she was gone, Leliana let out a long, shaky breath and put her hand over her eyes. _'Fuck_!'

Cullen looked painfully miserable. 'I'm so sorry. This is my fault.'

'No,' Lee countered sternly. 'If they were coming for us, they were coming, regardless. This has just given them an opening. They would have found one. Anyway, they're _not_ the priority, Dorian is. Everything else can wait.

'What can we do to lock this down?' Cullen asked her and when she remained quietly contemplative, he focused on Dorian, bringing his hand up to kiss it. 'What do you want to do?'

Dorian had not had anything resembling _time_ to truly process that stinging, newest wound. A fucking _sex tape_.

Christ.

Distantly, he could feel the agony of something much more vulnerable. He felt the pain of betrayal from a man who he hadn't believed could betray him anym _ore_. To film him in such a way without his consent, it was… _sick_ and evil and it hurt so much, so fucking much.

But Dorian was thinking clearly for the first time in a while. He could see it all laid out, crystal clear and he knew what he needed to do.

Morrigan was right.

Harry would take negotiation as weakness and Dorian knew all too well what he would do with weakness. Exploit it, prolong it, manipulate and twist until he heard something snap.

'I have to talk to him.'

_'No_ ,' Cullen and Lee said at the exact same moment, Lee with warning, Cullen with delayed horror.

'I'll be fine.'

Cullen started forward. 'Dorian, this fucking _prick_ —'

'I know, love,' he said soothingly, rubbing Cullen's shoulders, offering a deep and meaningful gaze. 'I _know_ , but I need to speak to him. I need to. All right? You stay with Lee, focus on your performance.'

' _As if_ I'm going to—'

Dorian shut him up oh so cleverly with a kiss, gentle press that shushed all his indignation. ‘Look, I know I’m a bit disaster prone, OK, but I really can do this. He _wants_ us to hesitate, to stew and panic so that we’ll take the safer route, what he would consider the _weaker_ route.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Will you trust me?’

Cullen softened. ‘Of course I trust you.'

He didn't add _but_ and Dorian took that as a win.

*

_The more he searched, the more he found. The more he found, the worse it all became. Tearfully, Lana showed him the YouTube video._

_It already had tens of thousands of views._

_Handheld footage of himself headed towards the dressing room, place where Harry was meant to be alone and inside, finding his_ fiancé _fucking someone else against the wall. It was rough and awful, monstrous grunting noises and the way it was shot, Dorian could see Harry's back, could see himself from an angle._

_He saw his own slow, terrible realisation of what he was seeing. It started out blank, removal of all emotions and then he saw his own eyes fill with tears, saw him slowly back away, stumbling and reaching out for the nearby wall. He hadn't said anything, not a word and the camera stayed on him, could not have more plainly been someone filming with intent._

_The stumble drew Harry's attention and though he couldn't see it, this was the moment when the bigger man had turned and smiled._

Smiled _._

_Dorian watched himself move away, watched every clumsy awful movement and it was graceless and unsightly, fucking_ unbearable _when he started crying. When Harry called out his name, he screamed something unintelligible back, screamed it too loud and he already knew that people would laugh at him for that part, that it was vaguely comedic._

_So ugly._

_So fucking ugly._

_There, beneath the upload, on the official YouTube channel of Fully Charged, was the album link. Dorian followed it, even though Lana begged him not to and Sera quietly suggested they wait._

_He_ paid _for the album and then he listened to the first song._

_*_

‘As terrible plans go, this one is middling.’

‘I’ll take that as extravagant praise.’

‘I have one amendment, more of a condition.’

Dorian sighed and waited. He knew what was coming.

‘If we do this, we do it my way.’

‘Who else’s way would I do it?’

‘Well, the _Dorian Method_ has flaws. Plenty of character, but… flaws. To attempt something like this, it needs to go off without a hitch. He could have fail-safes in place. If he’s smart, he’d have given it to at least one other person.’

‘Will the thingy work or not?’

Fenris pursed his lips. ‘If you’re referring to that priceless piece of technology that I spent years earning the right to request from a woman whose technological understanding goes far beyond the minds of mere humans, then _yes_ , but not without contact.’

Dorian grinned. ‘Piece of cake!’

Fenris looked like he was about to argue at the same moment Jassen made a quiet, subtle hum, leaning on the opposite wall, gaze lowered.

Dorian looked over, smile replaced by a narrow eyed glare. ‘Something to add?’

‘Well,’ Jassen said, voice barely audible given the space between them. ‘If it’s time sensitive, and you need it done quickly, it might be a problem if he has it in a secure folder.’

‘I can bypass that.’

‘In less than five seconds?’

Fenris thought. ‘No. I’d need at least two or three minutes.’

‘So, you _could_ brush up against him, connect your _thingy_ and hope he doesn’t notice, but that’s—’

Fenris looked away. ‘Beyond acceptable risk, I know.’

Dorian said, ‘Hence why my plan is far better.’

‘Mm,’ Jassen agreed tactically. ‘Your plan is not without it’s charm, but relies heavily upon distraction.’

‘I can be distracting.’

Jassen stared. ‘So can I.’

Fenris sighed and pitched his eyes skyward. ‘Just spit it out. Neither of us are under any illusions about what you are and Cullen is such that he believes the best of everyone. If you can help him, we’re listening.’

Dorian bit down very hard on _oh so many_ things.

‘Well,’ Jassen said, pushing away from the wall with surprising grace, his dark eyes fixed on Dorian. ‘I did have _one_ idea.’

*

It was a force greater than God that had Dorian containing his deep, instinctual urge to spit in Jassen's fucking face as they walked side by side. Last night felt like ten years in terms of how different things were, but Dorian would never forget the way Cullen had cried when he'd wanted to go with Alistair, but knew he couldn't. He would never forget the way Jassen had undressed Cullen.

The lengths Jassen had gone to in spreading those pictures.

‘You know where he is, I suppose?’ he shot at Jassen.

Fenris didn't give Jassen the chance to answer, cutting neatly over him. 'North west quadrant.’

They headed there, quietly navigating the busiest areas of the ongoing festival. At times, Dorian caught glimpses of the crowd from ground level. Heard snippets of people performing. Along the way, they ran into a few people who recognised Fenris, greeting him in passing, most of them staring at Dorian until they couldn't anymore. Dorian found he barely cared.

A fucking _sex tape_ , though. Yeah. He cared about that.

It was a dangerous line of thought, imagining it leaking, going public for the whole world to see. Something so intimate and personal and frankly, _horrific,_ out there in perpetuity. It made him sick but it also made him wonderfully, buoyantly angry. A purpose driven rage that, for the time being, could not be applied to the suddenly helpful Jassen and instead would suffice being aimed at his ex.

'Here,' Fenris said, nodding at the set of doors. Equipment storage and spares, Dorian knew from the signs. A place he'd been several times, none of those times yielding pleasant memories.

Dorian frowned. 'Why is here?'

'Probably fucking someone, right?' Jassen suggested, looking at Dorian then. 'Good place for it.'

With quiet lethality, Fenris said, 'If this gets physical and you try anything, _anything_ at all to hurt Dorian, I'll kill you. Cullen may not see it, but we can and I have no problem punching you in the heart.'

It hung in the air until Jassen looked back at the door, deceptively relaxed, but Dorian knew when someone was tense, was _ready_.

'I know,' was all he said.

'You do, huh?'

Jassen gave a tiny shrug. 'Yup.'

It felt like he was almost _admitting_ something, some tiny little acknowledgement, not remotely provable, of course.

'Lovely. Everyone clear on the plan, then?'

Dorian tilted his head. 'It's barely a plan, but yes.'

'Then we'll follow your lead.'

*

_The first song was really the worst and by worst, Dorian meant best, because it was the hit song of the bunch, it really was. A song called_ Demands _. It was easily the best thing the band had ever produced and the tune was horribly familiar, he'd heard snippets of riffs here and there, parts of the bridge and chorus being constructed, just without lyrics._

_The lyrics changed everything._

_From the very first line, he knew it was about him. All the alphabet arranged to describe the very worst of him._

_As the songs went on, each of his worst attributes, some he was born with, some he'd developed in his tenure being with a rock star._

Shallow.

Vapid.

Dumb.

Empty.

Talentless.

Worthless.

Hollow.

Uninteresting.

Unaffectionate.

Passionless.

Inaccessible.

Deficient.

_Twelve songs, twelve whole songs that cut him open and showed him every single element of his insecurity. Little things he'd tried to ignore, tried to believe weren't obvious to everyone else. Tiny insecurities engorged and blown wide, showcased and made musical._

_It was the best album Harry had ever produced, best music they'd ever made and it was all the absolute worst of Dorian. The idiot who'd gone to every single performance, who'd been there cheering, helping, waiting. Taking everything, calming Harry down, cleaning him up after a night out. Putting up with relentless bad feelings, with that onslaught of guilt and confusion, of worry and dread._

_When they ended, he reached for his phone but Sera didn't let him. His notifications were blowing up._

_'Don't,' she said, voice trembling. 'It's bad. Please don't.'_

_Dorian looked up at her and said in a voice he barely recognised, 'How bad?'_

_*_

There was an argument happening inside; hushed voices, hissing and snarling of two men. Dorian instantly recognised both.

'Seth's inside. He watched the door with a level of hesitation that was undeniably _familiar_. He closed his eyes, permitted himself a moment to gather what would make him strong. 'All right.'

Fenris opened the door and Jassen held back. Dorian didn't like the feel of Jassen behind him, it made his spine prickle, like walking through a dark room at night, but for the time being there was a greater enemy to contend with, so he balled his fists and took a deep breath.

The room within was piled high with stacks of amps and clear boxes of leads, barely legible scribble along the side with fat marker pens. Toward the back, there they stood.

Beneath the harsh glare of a bare lightbulb, Harry looked _terrible_. Way worse than last night. One eye was firmly closed, skin surrounding it puffing up protectively. He'd always had dark, olive coloured skin, so the fact that Dorian could _see_ the extent of the bruising meant that it had been one hell of a hit.

If Harry looked bad, somehow, Seth looked _worse_.

The last time Dorian had seen him, Seth had been attractive, handsome even. He'd had this delicate, angular prettiness about him. Had always wore his hair in a long pony tail, blue eyes rimmed with dark makeup, plump lips screaming lyrics into a shared mic between him and Harry, letting the bass echo after the last words.

Now, his skin was scabby, it was red and blotchy. He'd cut his hair, way too short, almost to the scalp and he looked vaguely like he'd recently contracted the plague. Harry, despite his injuries, looked the picture of health by comparison.

They were both staring, waiting.

The sight of Harry made Dorian want to look away; horrible, rotting instinct surging briefly but he let it fade, let it crumble and he stood tall.

Jassen moved closer. Dorian wondered for one absent, furious moment if he was going to do something like put his hand on his lower back and guide him fully inside, but he did no such thing. Simply waited for Dorian and followed him when he walked, albeit a little _close_ for comfort. He was the one who shut the door behind them, guarding it.

Harry kept right on staring with his one good eye, the other almost fully closed and badly bruised.

'Hey, kid.'

That _voice_. It had cold things skittering down Dorian's spine, instinct to run, to _move_ away and stay the fuck away strong enough that he had to repress it.

'Harry.'

Seth sneered, 'It's _Bull_.’

‘Yeah,’ Dorian said. ‘I remember.’

‘Social call?’ Harry asked, deep and nonchalant, but he was sizing them up, paying particular attention to Jassen. ‘I’m not quite so drunk, so your karate kid there might have more fun this time around.’

Jassen gave a tiny shrug. ‘Muay thai, not karate.’

‘Picked up some interesting friends,’ Harry commented, staring coldly at Dorian. ‘Got a little _entourage_ to protect you and everything. I guess that’s how it is when you sell out and suck mainstream dick.’

In his peripheral vision, Dorian could see how Fenris’s fingers undulated, but he didn’t move otherwise, neither of them did. Following his lead.

‘It’s not a social call.’

‘No? Sure you didn’t just miss me? Not like blondie’s not _pretty_ and all, but I bet he don’t fuck you like I used to.’

‘I don’t let anyone treat me like you did, Harry.’

He laughed, loud, booming thing that Dorian’s nervous system recognised. The angry laugh.

‘So, it’s your time to shine, huh? Got “R-E-S-P _-_ E-C-T” playin’ somewhere in your little head? Put me in my place, that’s it? Oh no, wait, you can’t listen to music, can you? Guess I really did _ruin_ you for anyone else. No wonder you’re back. C’mon, you missed me, right?’

‘Wow,’ Dorian said softly, still smiling a bit. ‘God, I almost forgot how much you act like a Bond villain. Sorry, it’s just… shocking, right?’ he looked at Fenris, even Jassen. ‘The grandstanding, the booming laugh, the sad attempts to get under my skin. It’s like seeing the toilets I used in pre-school. Don’t know how I ever fit in them, how I was ever scared of you.’

Dorian _did_ know. He knew very well what it was to be alone, to be isolated and to be gaslit. Tricked and pushed to point of exhaustion, convinced and manipulated and _hurt_ while being told he was precious.

But Harry’s expression darkened, which meant it was working.

‘You heard, huh?’ Harry asked after a few beats. ‘Bout the video?’

‘Literally nothing else would bring me here.’

‘Yeah, I saw how _busy_ you’ve been lately. Back in the limelight again.’

‘At least I can _get_ the limelight.’

Seth spat on the floor. ‘We’re gonna show the world what a _whore_ you are!’

Fenris said, ‘You need to leave.’

‘I’m not going anywhere. This involves me too. I’m co-singer and besides, Bull ain’t the only one with a copy.’

Dorian stared at Harry, waiting, arms crossed. After a few beats, Harry said, ‘Wait outside,’ to his bandmate.

_'Fuck_ you, if they’re negotiating for money, I wanna be here for it! Not like I trust you not to _lie_ and say we got half as much!’

_‘_ Go wait outside or find a fix,’ Harry repeated, thick upper lip curling. ‘You’re a mess.’

‘FUCK YOU, I’M STAYING!’

It was such a small thing, Fenris lifting his hand with two fingers pressed together and then lazily tipping those fingers in Seth's direction. Small thing that Dorian didn't understand but Jassen apparently did.

And what was even more incredible, was that Jassen then moved forward, so fast and so quiet that Dorian barely saw it before it was _happening_. He grabbed Seth, yanked him down and wrapped him in what had to be a stranglehold, the kind Dorian only saw people use in TV shows. Jassen's face was blank and controlled.

Harry took three rapid steps forward, bumping hard into Fenris to try and help Seth, but Fenris was immovable and their clash was messy, distracted. Dorian hoped it was _enough_.

‘Get _back_!’ Fenris intoned and amazingly, Harry did it.

Seth spluttered indignantly at first, he struggled and clawed but Jassen was positioned in a way that made his attempts useless.

Dorian watched in mild horror tinged with _very_ mild admiration of the way it took less than thirty seconds for Seth Darius to pass out. Jassen dropped him carefully to the ground and then nudged him to the side like he was trash, looking up at Fenris evenly.

And Dorian was… astonished. He wanted _time_ to think, to process what this meant. He could go to Cullen, right now and tell him what Jassen had done and what that would _mean_ , but…

'The fuck was that?' Fenris asked with understated indignation. 'I _meant_ haul his arse outside.'

'Oh,' Jassen said. 'That was easier.' When Fenris stared he added, 'What? He'd have just made a scene.'

Fenris said nothing, but he was displeased, that was very clear.

'OK,' Harry said quiet and unusually cautious. 'Someone wanna fill me in? You part of MI5 now, kid? Sending _this_ guy in here to finish me off?'

'No,' Dorian said as Jassen moved to guard the door once more and Fenris stepped back. 'No, I've come to talk.'

Jaw working, Harry looked at the exit. 'Oh yeah? Tell them to leave.'

'Why should I?'

‘Tell them to go or I'll leak it, I swear to fuckin' God.'

'He's afraid,' Jassen laughed under his breath. 'Imagine that.'

Dorian tried to ignore him.

Harry shot a glare at him. ‘You come near me and I’ll snap you in half!’

There was a smile in Jassen’s voice when he said, ‘That sounds like a dare.’

Half turning, Dorian shot him a warning glare and Jassen subtly rolled his eyes, falling silent.

‘So,’ Harry said, shoulder’s squaring. ‘You want me to delete the video? What are you gonna give me, beyond money? Would you… hmm, suck me off?’

Oh, but that made Dorian see red. His vision swayed for a moment, horrible buzzing sensation between his ears and he wanted to lash out, scream and claw him but he took a breath, looked at Harry's hands, saw how white his knuckles were.

'I want you to drop the video,' he said, tipping his chin.

Harry blinked. 'Whuh?'

'You heard me,' Dorian went on. 'I want you to leak it, drop it. Post it up onto Pornhub or Revengeporn or,' he chuckled humourlessly. 'Whatever sad fuck site it is that'll take it. Sell it to the Sun, make what you can. You know why? The _second_ it hits the internet, it'll get scrubbed and your worth, your _value_ … will go back to what it always was. Nothing.'

He tried to rally. 'This ain't the kinda thing you want your new _boyfriend_ seein', kid.'

Dorian huffed a laugh. 'Sex with you was just about the most boring, debasing experience of my entire life. It was barely even sex, more of an hour long session with you trying to get hard and stay that way. Go ahead, upload it. Cullen and I had better sex than that half an hour ago.' Harry went silent, gaze sliding between Dorian, Fenris and Jassen, calculating. 'No? Come on, where's that _gut punch_ you're just dying to serve up? That _spark_ of interest from an audience who got over your songs months ago and are now realising you have _nothing_ to offer without your muse. Hard to replicate without repeating the process, I suppose. So come on, drop it. Leak it. Promote your shitty songs. Get what you can. What's holding you back?'

'You think I won't?'

'I want you to.'

'Why?'

'Because then,' Dorian said, stepping closer. 'You have _nothing_ left to hurt me with. I'm not stupid. Even if we paid you, there'd be a digital copy somewhere that we missed and in a few months’ time, there'd be more demands, more blackmail or maybe you'd just leak it for the hell of it. Get your _promotional_ material anyway. So leak it. Expose me. Show the world that video, whichever one it is. Combine that with what you did to me already. Let people dig around into medical reports, character witnesses who saw what you did to me. Paint that picture and see how it fucking works out for you this time around because so far,' he added, words coming faster, stronger. 'It's not looking so great, is it? Bumped from the dead slot, beaten up, _big plans_ all ruined. You've only got one card left to play and I am _sick_ of this game so play it!'

Fear and adrenaline collided within, galvanising him against the worst of his panic. He didn't take his eyes off of Hardiss, held himself upright and never blinked.

'How much will you pay me not to?'

Dorian shook his head. 'Nothing. Leak the video.'

'Dorian, come on.'

'Leak it. Upload it. Show the world what you _did_ to me and play your last fucking card, you _loser_! I am done with you and done with your fucking _songs_! You've put me in the spotlight and yeah,' he said, gesturing. 'Maybe that will never go away but I've found a way to live there. Someone to live there _with_. People to protect and love me. I'll never have a normal life, so what's one more cluster fuck?'

Harry took out his phone from his pocket, sneer twisting his mouth. 'You want me to, I will!'

'Good.'

'I'm gonna do it!'

'Sometime _today_ would be great!'

'Last chance, pay me off, or this goes out across the world!'

Dorian threw back his head, letting some of that old, rotting anger come out in a scathing laugh. 'Fucking _do it_ , you coward! What, you're scared of letting people see how small your dick really is? How ugly you are, inside and out?'

'Fuck you, you little _bitch_!'

'DO IT!'

Harry unlocked his phone, scrolling furiously and Dorian crossed his arms again, waiting. Nerves curled around his insides like vines but he showed nothing, only hatred, only cold, cool _disgust_.

'There,' Fenris said quietly, looking down at his own phone. 'Got it.'

Harry scowled, tapping the screen harder. 'My phone's—fuckin' _frozen_ , the fuck?'

'Back-tracing now, matching the signature and linking across all devices ever connected to his IP address. There's only three. This phone and his laptop and another phone. Seth's.'

With a low snarl, Hardiss started forward, teeth bared. 'You _cunt_ , I'll—'

'Seth didn't share it, only stored it,' Fenris took a moment, attention on the screen as Jassen moved subtly closer. ‘A folder called _Valuable Nudes_ , which I will destroy along with every other file on his laptop. I'm wiping every trace of the code, matching it with any other device and deleting those too, corrupting everything and now,' he added stowing the thin, black device, _so_ similar to a phone. 'We own every single picture _you've_ ever taken, _Bull_ , which will be _oh so fun_ to go through later.'

Dorian's smile was smug, no two ways about it.

‘You…’ Harry gasped, turning pale. ‘No, no, you _can’t_ , you couldn’t…’

‘He did,’ Dorian told him. ‘And it was easy. You were always quick to lose your temper. This time it came in handy.’

‘So, you’re gonna ruin me, that’s it? After all I fuckin’ did for you?’

It was bait and Dorian wasn’t having any of it.

'This really _was_ the closure I wanted, thanks, Harry _.'_

'You little fucker,' the big man snarled dangerously. 'You think you're untouchable because you got some hired fuckin' goons or whatever, but I'll fuck you up, kid. I did it before and I'll do it again.'

'How?' Dorian whispered curiously. 'What, you're gonna draw stick figures of us fucking and flip through the pages, animation style? Write some fanfiction about it? Go fuck yourself, you _loser_ and take your delusions of relevancy with you.'

He turned to leave and Jassen opened the door for him, Fenris by his side. There was a very meaty kind of smack and the sound of choking, throaty gasps, the _non-_ sexy variety. He thought maybe he heard Harry hit the floor.

Jassen caught up as they turned a corner.

‘Wait for me,’ he bade with a friendly smile.

‘Throat punch?’ Fenris asked.

‘Just a little one.’

Dorian didn’t scowl, but it was a near thing. ‘You know Fenris and I are still going to expose and destroy you, right?’

His smile never faltered. ‘I know, but you have to admit, that _was_ kind of fun.’

Fenris gave a sidelong glance. ‘I wouldn’t get comfy.’

Behind them, Harry was choking, was yelling in stuttered fashion, positively _ranting_ as he tried to follow them.

'YOU THINK—YOU C-CAN JUST—’

‘Did you throat punch him or not?’

‘He had a really big throat,’ Jassen explained.

‘—WALK AWAY—FROM ME?’

Dorian looked back in time to see Harry stumbling drastically to the side, crashing into the wall like a drunken crab. He was seething, one hand at the base of his neck.

‘I M-MUH— _MADE_ YOU—WHAT YOU ARE! YOU FOUND A—’ he succumbed to a choking fit, but shook it off far quicker than Dorian would have liked. Fenris’s hand touched his lower back, moving them a little faster through the halls. ‘FUCKIN' _UPGRADE_ , WELL I TAUGHT YOU—EH-EVERYTHING YOU KNOW, YOU C-COCKSLUT!'

'No one cares, Harry,' Dorian tossed over his shoulder. 'Maybe you should go write a song or two about it.'

People were staring, were asking if everything was OK and Dorian just gave them a breezy smile, said it was all fine. Those same people tried to calm Harry down but he just snarled at them, even shoved a few. Getting more and more worked up, angrier and _angrier_ , drawing attention to himself in the worst way possible.

Dorian kept walking, it wasn't far from the lovely gaggle of security goons, just waiting to haul him off.

Except right before they got close to that familiar turn, Harry grabbed Dorian by the hand and yanked him back hard, causing him to stumble.

The height difference between Fenris and Harry was such that Harry was roughly _double_ Fenris's height, monstrously tall as he was but that didn't stop Fenris from dropping low and sweeping Harry's leg right out from under him. The massive hand that had grabbed for Dorian let go suddenly and in the corner of a left turn not yet taken, Harry went crashing down on his arse. The sweep was perfectly executed.

The fall winded him and when he made to get up, he wheezed a little. 'Fast little fuckers, yeah? Fuckin' gonna enjoy tearing you apart, I swear to—'

'Stay _down_ ,' Fenris warned.

'Dorian,' came Cullen's voice as he jogged over. ' _Shit_ , are you OK?'

'I'm fine,' Dorian said, turning to greet him. Oh, but Cullen was the picture of concern. He didn’t even look at Harry, only wanted to see Dorian. He took his face in his hands, examining him quickly before they hugged. 

'I'm fine, darling, it's all good.'

Brown eyes searched grey and Cullen's presence was a _balm_. It was blissful, beautiful and everything Dorian had ever wanted. 'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure. He barely touched me.'

Cullen's expression darkened. 'He _touched_ you?'

‘ _Barely_.'

'He grabbed him,' Jassen said. 'But Fenris got him a second later.'

Cullen seemed only to have heard the first part. He turned his gaze to the man on the floor, lip curling in a rare, somewhat _thrilling_ snarl.

'You touched him?'

Bull wheezed out a bitter laugh. 'Yeah, imagine that! I did what you wanted to, what you dreamed of, after years of watching him from the side-lines like a fuckin' _pussy!'_

Dorian didn't know what that meant and he definitely did not care, except, wait. _Years_?

'Years?' he echoed curiously, mostly aimed at Cullen, who seemed to be on the verge of committing murder with his eyes.

Cullen's expression softened a bit as he looked at Dorian, nothing guarded in it when he said, 'I’ll explain later, I promise.’

Security came pelting down the hallway, Fenris scolding them for leaving Cullen alone. They swarmed Harry and the others all stood back, giving them space.

‘You’re sure you’re OK? All of you? Fen? Jassen?’

‘ _Darling,’_ Dorian whined, but Cullen wasn’t going to listen to sense then. It could wait, it could all wait. Time _after_ when they could breathe, be alone, shower. Eat, sleep and kiss with no hurry. They had all the time in the world and Dorian would not fail in making Cullen see that Jassen, no matter how _nice_ he acted, was wholly bad.

Later.

‘We’re fine,’ Fenris assured him. ‘Everyone else OK? Lee, Alistair?’

‘All good, waiting for you back in the VIP lounge. They’re having quite the party in there.’

Dorian smiled, picturing the girls.

They hauled Harry to his feet and cuffed him with cable ties. He was huge and it took all four of them. As they passed, Harry narrowed his good eye and slurred, ‘Hope he’s a better fuck than he was, ain’t good for much else!’

Cullen took two steps closer and then punched him right across the face. He said nothing, didn’t need to. When he dropped his fist, there was blood across his knuckles.

With red on his lips, Harry hissed, ‘This ain’t the last you’ll see o’ me, I _swear_!’

The goons dragged Harry out of sight and only when they were a good distance away, Cullen, who’d been previously very stoic, suddenly winced, shaking his hand, mouthing, 'Ow, ow, _ow!'_

_'_ Are you OK?' Dorian asked, starting forward.

_'_ Oh my God,' Fenris drawled, a slow smile spreading as he examined Cullen's hand. 'If you broke your fucking thumb on his face, I will never let you live it down.'

'It's not broken,' Jassen said quietly, peering to see as Fenris examined him. 'You'd have heard it. Just a bad punch.'

Cullen pretended to be offended. 'Not my fault he's made of— _ow!'_

_'_ Not broken,' Fenris confirmed. 'Maybe a fractured knuckle here. Please, someone, _anyone_ take me up on my repeated offers to teach punching without sustaining injury.'

Cullen shook his hand again once it was free. 'It went OK, then?'

Dorian answered, 'Worked perfectly. Fenris deleted all copies and fucked up his tech too. No more video.'

‘Thank fuck, I'm so relieved.' He kissed Dorian briefly, warm and loving, such feeling in it. When he winced again, Dorian looked down at his hands, frowning.

‘Cullen, you need bandages. Will you be able to play?'

'I'll be fine,' Cullen said, moving into Dorian's space to press more soothing kisses there while Fenris said to Jassen, formal in the extreme, 'Your help was appreciated.'

'Of course, happy to lend a hand, no pun intended there, Cullen.'

Dorian broke the kiss, about to launch into a tirade of how Jassen had no right to be cracking puns or accepting thanks, but Fenris warned him not to with a small, subtle shake of his head, meaningful and emphatic. Dorian _trusted_ Fenris so he held his tongue.

With an arm slung around Cullen's waist, they began to walk back to the dressing room.

A welcome sight greeted them.

Lee, _Alistair_ and, to Dorian's delight, Thom too. The man wore a cast on his leg; the plastic boot kind and no crutches. They were deep in serious conversation when Alistair looked over, smiling widely.

'There they are! The heroes of the hour! We saw him get dragged away, what a sight that was. I got like a million pictures of it! Can't _wait_ to tag him in those!'

Dorian grinned, feeling a little tired all of a sudden. He was so ready to go home with Cullen. He wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold him properly, to sleep in a bed and actually _sleep_. To wake up together, to re-join their lives, to _start_ their lives together, properly this time, in the light of truths well-discussed and understood. They had so much to talk about, so much to share and make better, but it would all be worth it. Cullen was worth anything.

Such were his thoughts when Thom let out a ragged, stuttered _gasp_ , going entirely still and drawing everyone’s attention. He was looking right at Jassen and, when Dorian followed his gaze, the dark haired man in question was staring back, face bloodless.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, sorry we didn't get to see Varric: Reporter Extraordinaire, but we will in the next chapter as well as have a bit more time with Vivienne who I really wanted to explore but got shunted by Morrigan: Devil's Advocate. I swear, this verse, I could write about it forever, but I WON'T, and there will be a beautiful, MAGNIFICENT end just before Christmas. 
> 
> Next chapter (she says):   
> Well, shit.   
> Talking About Our Feelings, yay!  
> Well, shit!  
> The Loft Gonna Finally See Some Sex!  
> ....WELL, SHIT. 
> 
> Thanks so much again, and as always... *clears throat*
> 
> Toss a comment to your author, oh archive of plenty!  
> 💜💜💜


	27. Oh, Into The Sea Of Waking Dreams I Follow Without Pride, Nothing Stands Between Us Here (And I Won't Be Denied)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late! Apologies! It needed extra work, real life kicked my arse, you know the drill, my lovely readers.  
> Full credit to WithThisShield for coming up with Cullen's tracklist of Dorian-Related Songs, one of which I actually wrote a whole song for like an obsessed doofus. The track list will be in the next chapter, thanks again, LOVED THEM!  
> I'll ramble at the end for the rest. Enjoy!  
> 💜💜💜

'Well,' Jassen breathed, eyes wide, everything suddenly _taut_. 'Shit.'

Time slowed. The moment _ground_ to a halt and Dorian knew something was about to happen, he just didn't know what. No one seemed to be moving and that busy place, that _music festival_ seemed to come to a complete standstill, hairs on Dorian's arms prickling, despite the heat.

Thom's shock was palpable but it quickly solidified into anger, into something determined and as he opened his mouth to speak, the moment sped right back up again and then everything happened very _fast_.

'STOP HIM!'

What would be clear later, was that Fenris had been _waiting_ for it. Maybe reflexes, maybe training, but in hindsight, Dorian would see that he'd had a suspicion of what bringing Thom there would trigger. So, when Jassen made to double back, spinning on his heel and pushing forward astonishingly quick, Fenris grabbed him and that moment, that hand on his wrist, smack of skin to skin, was the moment it all went to hell.

He hit Fenris across the face. It was a hard punch, the kind of thing that made a _sound_. Bone and meat and _ow,_ Dorian flinched in sympathy, couldn't help it but Fenris just hit him back, not releasing his wrist. He adjusted to get a better grip of the man, keeping him _there_.

They moved _fast_ after that.

Jassen improvised. He was fluid and there was not a single second between the blows that erupted between them, but Fenris was just as fluid and they were so similarly matched at first that it was genuinely astonishing. They moved too fast to accurately see, to catalogue each blow. It was a dance of Jassen trying to _leave_ and Fenris not allowing it. Punching, twisting, attempts to knock the other down, all while Fenris held his wrist, tried to incapacitate him.

'We need to help!' Dorian yelled as he and Cullen stumbled back against the wall, moving out of the way when Jassen spun around and flipped Fenris over his shoulder, but Fenris _landed it_ , was not to be removed so easily.

Cullen's gaze was trained on the fight, half holding Dorian’s arm. Across the narrow hall Lee and Alistair stood close to one another, Alistair in front of her. Thom was moving steadily closer to the fight, careful and wary. People were, if anything, _gathering_. Peering around the corner to see what the commotion was. No one was _leaving_ , that was for sure and Dorian… he couldn't look away.

 _I knew it, I knew it, I knew it,_ he thought, eyes wide.

'We have to—'

'No!' Cullen and Lee said at the same time. Cullen, who couldn't look away either, added under his breath. 'He's got this.'

Even as he said it, he moved to cover Dorian slightly, same kind of thing Alistair was doing and later, they were going to have a _chat_ about such things, but for the moment, Dorian was _transfixed_ as Fenris swept Jassen's leg, dropped him, tried to get a grip around his neck, _same thing Jassen had done_ , but could not. Jassen was too quick, too… whatever the fuck it was when people were trained like this. He ducked out, twisted and finally, he got his wrist free of Fenris's grip.

But Jassen wasn't trying to leave anymore.

Now able to put momentum behind his movements, he swung around impossibly fast in a perfect semi-arc, leg high. When his boot hit Fenris's face, Lee let out a strangled sound, something that began as a scream, though in all fairness, that _might_ have come out of Dorian because he felt the same, wanted to scream at seeing Fenris hurt.

Jassen saw Thom's slow, cautious approach, his lip curling, teeth bared and he started forward towards him, Fenris stopping him just in time with a vicious punch which wasn't aimed at Jassen's face, but his chest. Jassen deflected the blow which caught his chin, causing him to reel for a moment before he shook it off.

It was nothing less than _chilling_ , the way he'd looked at Thom. Like a snake, like a fucking _monster_ right before it opened its jaws wide to _swallow_. Dorian felt cold, felt sick, adrenaline and terror pulsing through him but still, _still_ , he couldn't look away.

It was unlike anything Dorian had seen in real life. Fenris was perhaps just a tiny bit better, seemed to land more blows, seemed more steady on his feet but Jassen had no trouble being _underhand._ There was a moment in the ceaseless clapback rhythm of their fight - and it was a fight now, no denying it - when he _slapped_ Fenris hard enough that Dorian heard Fenris make a small noise, something pained, something different from the grunts and gasping. Fenris looked at him then, a strange momentary pause in everything as if Jassen had purposefully committed a faux pas and Jassen, he just _smiled._ It was dirty and teasing and Dorian panicked, did not want Fenris to be drawn into anything, not to lash out in anger.

Fenris feinted forward, withdrew at the last second and kicked Jassen's leg out, dropping him hard. Jassen was not prepared for it, smile wiped clean. The retaliatory movement had him landing gracelessly, winded. He kicked up a second later, landing like a cat with _anger_ behind his dark eyes and then everything seemed to get so, so much _worse_.

What followed then made the previous interactions seem like a playful dance. It was plain they were trying to kill one another now. Each blow was _hard,_ meant to disorient and stun, but then followed up with another. Relentless, vicious fight from two people who had so _clearly_ been trained to do just what they were attempting.

There was blood on their fists and around their mouths, no time to pause and spit. The whole thing had been happening for less than thirty seconds. More and more people were gathering, some were recording it on their phones. Security had been focused on Harry or maybe they were just sitting this one out, Dorian didn't know.

He knew that when Jassen spun his whole body around, driving his elbow into Fenris's face, Thom seemed to realise that this wasn't going to be resolved easily. The older man was yelling something, the sound barely registering to Dorian, who could only feel Cullen beside him, gripping his arm hard.

Fenris staggered for a moment, but that moment was all Jassen needed. He performed that same backspin kick, favoured movement and Dorian could see why, could see the sheer speed and _force_ put into it. Fenris raised his arm just in time to protect his face, but it still hit hard, adding to his injuries, stacking the lost moments atop one another and Dorian was fucking _losing his mind_ , needed to help, to do something.

Thom yelled again, voice booming, but all Dorian could hear was a high pitched white noise, a deafening ringing in his ears. Cullen was shoving Dorian back and Dorian tried to shake himself, tried to break out of the shock, but before he had a chance, a _bang_ rent the air, shattering his eardrums, causing him to flinch and jump.

Thom had fired a gun, a fucking _gun,_ in Britain, for fuck's sake. He'd fired it at the ceiling, not at Jassen.

Now the people who'd been eagerly crowding and filming were screaming and fleeing, they were tearing away and Jassen's focus returned to Thom, to the gun.

'Take your shot, old man,' he breathed, panting harshly, lips and teeth wet with blood, left eye bright red.

Fenris was staggering, seemed horribly _stunned_ and Dorian wanted to scream, wanted to grab him and pull his friend to safety, but Cullen had said not to and he had to trust that Cullen knew what to do better than he did in this instance. Across the hall, Alistair was standing protectively in front of Leliana while she peered around him, watching in barely controlled horror.

'GET ON YOUR KNEES!' Thom roared, gun aimed with a hand that did not waver.

Jassen's eyes narrowed, no doubt calculating bullet trajectory and other ridiculous things that Dorian had never needed to worry about. Fenris leaned against the wall, head lowered like he was done and _oh God, no._ Dorian was going to grab him, he would just reach forward a few steps and pull him behind Cullen.

'Shoot me,' Jassen whispered.

'ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES BEFORE I _PUT_ YOU THERE!'

Jassen took a step closer to Fenris and then Fenris burst to life, shrugging off what had apparently been a guise, only pretending to be so hurt.

It was _masterful_ , the way he threw himself at Jassen, wrapped himself around his neck, covering his back and clinging hard. Jassen grunted, turning around quickly, making it so that Thom could not shoot him without risking Fenris.

Fenris managed to get one good _, solid_ crack at his skull, smashing his elbow down hard before Jassen threw himself backwards into the nearest wall, sending them both almost _through it_ , crushing Fenris into the makeshift masonry. Despite his face screwing up in pain, Fenris still did not let go. Jassen used the momentum to drop to his knees and pitch dramatically forward, tipping Fenris off of him in a messy, painful movement.

Thom fired another shot but this one was a mistake, because it didn't make Jassen freeze the way Dorian would have. It caused him to drop into a roll and move so fucking fast Dorian could barely _see_ him.

Lee screamed when Jassen swept Thom's leg. The older man let out a roar of pain, his bad leg giving way and sending him crashing horribly to his side. Thom was sturdy and he blocked the first punch Jassen threw with intent to debilitate, but he couldn't block the second. That one was aimed right in the centre of his chest and when it hit, Thom let out a strangled sound, a horrible wheezing scream and he clutched his chest, falling sideways. Jassen snatched up the gun, whirling around to aim at Fenris, who was back on his feet, forward momentum halted by that barrel.

'Don't,' Jassen panted, delicate wheeze beneath it. ' _Don't_.'

Fenris lifted his hands, thin river of blood streaming from the side of his mouth and he was blinking hard, fully squeezing his eyes shut every few seconds. Dorian didn't even realise Cullen had been moving forward until Fenris glanced at him and shook his head minutely, clear warning _not to_.

'Run while you can,' Fenris told Jassen, looking back at him, green eyes glittering with focus, with _darkness_ and energy.

But the gunshots had drawn attention, too much attention and even Dorian, whose ears were ringing, heart in his fucking throat, could hear the distant approach of dozens of men, yelling and bellowing.

Jassen opened his mouth to say something, but it died when he looked at the gun suddenly, lifted it a few times and his mouth curled with mirth.

' _Blanks_.' He aimed a backwards kick at Thom's ribs where the man lay moaning behind him. Thom curled in on himself, mouth open in a silence scream. 'Where's your _balls_ , old man?'

He dropped the gun and suddenly burst into motion again. Fenris pursued him, but he was too far and could not get to him in time. Jassen darted left, to Lee's side of the hallway where she was standing half behind Alistair. It was all too _quick_ , not like in movies where people had time to think and react. He was so fast, Dorian barely even saw it when Jassen gut punched Alistair, causing him to bend in half, but he still tried to protect Lee and cover her. Jassen drove his knee up hard into Alistair's face, sending him down with a degree of impatient permanence.

Fenris was almost there when Jassen grabbed Lee and twirled her around so she covered his whole front, one hand wrapped about her neck, the other pressed lightly against her temple.

Cullen moved away from Dorian for the first time and the chorus of panic at _Wireless_ was finally drowned out by something louder; Fenris and Cullen shouting, _screaming_ for Jassen to let her go. 

Jassen did not. He tightened his arm around her neck in warning and they both fell silent.

'Don't try it, sweetheart,' he panted to Lee, cheek to cheek with her as he fought for breath. 'I know you’re fast, but I'll crack your neck before you even tense.'

Lee looked to Fenris, her expression grim and incredibly _fearless._ Fenris nodded at her, muted dread shining in his eyes.

'You hurt her and I'll skin you alive,' he growled, but there was a tremor in it.

'Jassen,' Cullen said, loud and steady. 'Let her go _._ Please.'

For the first time, Jassen looked at Cullen and his brow creased, exhaling roughly, frustration leaking into what had previously been a cold, blank slate of concentration. 'This wasn't supposed to happen.'

'If you need a hostage,' Cullen was saying and Dorian, despite everything, wanted to punch him for what he was about to suggest. 'You can take me. I'm way more valuable.'

Jassen rolled his eyes, not even dignifying that with an answer, looking back at Fenris.

 _'_ We've got maybe ten seconds,' he instructed breathlessly. 'Pick up the gun. Hold it above your head and don't say a word. Let them arrest you, let them crowd you and I'll leave. Alone.'

Fenris's nose furled, jaw clenched. There wasn't time to argue. No time to go through outcomes, to barter. He picked up the gun, loaded with what were apparently blanks, and he held it high, aimed at the ceiling.

'I'll find you,' Fenris promised him.

Jassen chuckled and wheezed, 'Yes, you will. Cullen, hold her hand. When I let go, pull her into you, understand? That way you know she's safe.' Something in his expression softened and he added, 'I know how much you love her.'

Cullen did as he was told, taking Lee's hand when she extended it. Dorian couldn't see his face, but he could _hear_ how it sounded when he said, 'I trusted you.'

'I know,' Jassen said, expression returning to something colder. 'You trust too freely.' He turned back to Fenris. 'Fire off a round.'

Fenris held the gun high and pulled the trigger. The bang rent the air, sending a violent jolt through Dorian's body. A few moments later, security in the form of armed police came pouring through the doorway. Jassen stepped aside delicately, moved into Cullen and Dorian on their side of the hallway and the men circled Fenris, aiming their weapons and bellowing for him to drop the gun.

'DROP IT NOW! _DROP IT_ AND KEEP YOUR HANDS HIGH!'

When Fenris complied they _swamped_ him and Jassen took his chance. Before he pushed Lee into Cullen's arms, he leaned up, pressed a lightning fast, light kiss to the left side of Cullen's mouth and then he was gone. Cullen was holding Lee, both arms around her as Jassen slipped out of the hallway, turned the corner and in less than a second had vanished. Alistair scrambled over to their side, still clutching his stomach, nose pouring blood. Dorian helped him to stand.

'NOBODY MOVE!' one of the men yelled, Alistair drawing their attention. ' _NOBODY_ LEAVES!'

'You OK?' Dorian asked and Alistair nodded tightly, mouth bleeding. Cullen was asking Lee the same thing but Dorian could tell she was all right, unharmed at least.

'IT'S NOT HIM!' Thom was roaring from the floor. 'He's not done anything, the one who did is getting away!'

Fenris was on his knees being cuffed. 'Don't bother,' he told Thom loudly. 'Cullen, she's OK?'

'I'm fine,' she answered, looking away from Cullen, her pretty face screwed tight with anger. 'He didn't hurt me.'

'The others? Dorian? Alistair?'

'We're fine,' Dorian answered, holding Alistair a little bit tighter. 'Don't worry.'

They yanked Fenris to his feet and began pulling him away, much like they'd done with Harry except these men were not private security, this was some serious S.W.A.T anti-terrorism shit.

Cullen asked, 'What do you want us to do?'

'Stay among people, get more security, don't leave. Contact Madeline if you can, to warn her. Once they search me, they'll release me. I'll be back soon.' Fenris called out and then they too were gone, leaving behind only a few who were asking if anyone needed medical attention.

'Dorian, you sure you’re OK?' Cullen asked, one hand on his cheek and Dorian didn't understand how he was so _steady_ , how he was so fucking strong in the face of so much madness.

And when things turned oddly quiet, as that adrenaline came bubbling up in the absolute _worst_ way possible, Dorian burst out laughing.

*

They took Cullen away. It was hardly unexpected for security, Met Police and S.W.A.T to finally _clock_ who it was standing there with some moron who couldn't stop laughing but once they did, they ushered him away. _Huddling_ , as Fenris had once called it. They didn't seem to care about anyone else, just took him to wherever was _safe_ while they then began to build a perimeter and ascertain what had happened.

They ended up in the VIP area, re-purposed to house those who were in charge of the festival while it collapsed around them.

Dorian kept expecting to hear from someone, anyone, that the festival was cancelled, it was closed now and they were leaving because _surely_ they were, right? There had been a fight that would have left _Jet fucking Li_ feeling sore. Shots had been fired, albeit blanks. From the very first moment it had begun, the _Wireless_ festival had been non-stop drama and Dorian could not imagine anything more ridiculous than it continuing.

When Cullen returned, it was with ten ton of security who gave no indication that they would be leaving his side ever. Dorian recognised a few of them. Fenris's people. That was good. They followed him inside. Two outside the door, two on either side within and then Cullen was walking quickly towards Dorian, the pair meeting in a bracing, tight hug that quickly morphed into a firm, closed mouth kiss.

'Sorry,' Cullen muttered, hands rubbing over Dorian's shoulders. 'They bloody _hid_ me until they were sure it was safe.'

'No, that's good,' Dorian assured him, rubbing his nose for one indulgent moment before reality beckoned. 'Want you safe.'

'Yes, but I'd like for everyone else to be safe too.'

'Psht! We're just commoners,' Dorian chuckled.

'Fen back yet?'

'No. Soon, Lee thinks.'

Cullen looked around the room with a guilty wince.

'This looks… not good.'

Cassandra took that moment to scream, 'IF I SEE THAT CONNIVING FUCKER TETHRAS AROUND HERE, I WILL GOUGE HIS EYES OUT WITH A WOODEN SPOON!' at some poor young girl who gave off _assistant_ vibes. Lee took the girl aside, protecting her from Cassandra's wrath. She brought her over to Cullen and Dorian, one arm curled around her shoulders.

'Ignore her,' she said calmly. 'Come work for us instead, I need an interim assistant.'

The girl blanched. 'Sorry?'

Lee smiled. 'Come work for me, sweetie. Better pay and no screaming, I promise.'

'O-oh,' the girl stammered, looking back at Cassandra. 'It's just—'

'Cassandra, I've stolen your assistant, she works for me now,' Lee called out carelessly over her shoulder.

'Which one?' Cassandra snarled, whirling around. 'Oh, her? Fine.'

'Wonderful,' Lee said brightly. 'This is Dorian Pavus. Cullen Rutherford, as I'm sure you know and my name is Leliana, but please call me Lee. What's your name?'

'Natalie,' she said in a tiny voice. Dorian felt bad for her, he definitely understood what it was like to be _overwhelmed._

'Don't worry,' he told her. 'I promise we're nice people. We only seem mental.'

'Of course we're nice. Now, Natalie. I'm going to need you to be my runner, per se, you understand? A lot of back and forth. You look nimble enough, so before we begin, any questions or objections?'

'Um, what am I being… paid?'

Lee answered a text quickly, frowning. 'Whatever Cassandra was paying, just double it.'

'Oh,' the girl's cheeks went red. 'I wasn't actually… being… paid for that.'

Lee turned and openly scowled at Cassandra. 'Internships are _slave labour!'_

Cassandra didn't look up from whatever it was she was being shown on a tablet. 'Go fuck yourself, Mordant.'

Lee cracked a smile at that. 'Right, well. Let's just ballpark at 70k for now, Natalie, if that's all right? We can go over everything later and I assure you there's a hefty bonus in it for you if you can run as fast as I can type. People I need to talk to are all over the place here and cell service isn't great due to all the police signals while they clear it out.'

Natalie's eyes widened but then she found her mettle. 'You bet.'

'Excellent. Now, you're technically shadowing me, but if either of these two,' she said gesturing to Cullen and Dorian. 'Need anything, whatever they need, that's your job too. Oh,' she added, turning when the door opened, a relieved smile slowly spreading across her features. 'And him.'

True to his word, Fenris had returned after less than half an hour, butterfly stitches across a nasty looking gash on his cheek, mouth no longer bleeding, but he looked so _beat up_ it made Dorian's heart clench.

Cullen was nearest and went to him quickly, Lee following. Dorian held back, gave them space and went to sit with Lana instead. 

There were plenty of others in the VIP room, largest room to host so many, and though they stared, those _others_ , no one commented. Dorian watched their strange three-way embrace, realising it was only strange to others. Dorian saw how they held one another and he melted inside, loving them all.

''S'pretty sexy, innit?' Lana whispered, neatly ruining the moment in perfect fashion.

Dorian snorted delicately and rolled his eyes. 'Everything's sexy to you, you gorgeous little slutbag.'

Lana pretended to be offended, nudging him. They sat beside one another on a comfortable, vibrantly coloured chesterfield sofa as people buzzed around them. Sera re-joined them, a bandage around her hand. 'All fine,' she told declared happily. 'Just a bit squished.'

Sera had been one of the few who'd been hurt in the stampede to get away when shots were fired, mostly because she and Lana had been trying so hard to get _near_ to the source of noise, knowing their best friend would be involved somehow.

'They OK?' she asked, looking at the triad, whose cuddle was only now ending, Cullen rubbing Lee's upper arms as he lifted his hand to Fenris's cheek, eyes narrowed on the cut.

'They're regrouping their energy,' Lana explained wisely. 'Like Power Rangers.'

Dorian opened his mouth to point out how ridiculous that was but stopped when he realised, actually, it was reasonably accurate.

'When do you think we can leave?' Sera asked under her breath. 'No offence to anyone, but there's only so much I can pretend to be mental, y'know?'

Dorian gave her a fond look, dropping an errant kiss to her shoulder.

'Soon, I reckon,' he said, looking around.

The room was unfettered chaos and mess. Empty champagne bottles on the floor, what had once been at least twelve boxes of pizza stacked messily on a huge table. Clothes, decorations, glittery shit literally everywhere. Massive TV on the wall, which was currently off and, biggest draw of all, was the huge one-way glass window where the inhabitants of the room had been able to look up and see the stage from the side.

Stage that was currently empty.

Fenris came over, Lee and Cullen in tow. Dorian got up to greet him and after they hugged, Fenris drew back.

'You're all right?' he asked, but it was perfunctory because he was busily doing that _Cullen_ thing, ascertaining Dorian's wellbeing himself. It took less than three seconds for him to smile. 'Good.'

'Am _I_ all right, seriously? What about _you?'_

Fenris shrugged, blood in his hairline. 'Had better fights in New Cross on a night out.'

Dorian snorted, hoping the bravado was for Sera and Lana's benefit.

'We're going to see Thom. He was being given oxygen when I last saw him, but he should be able to breathe a bit easier now if you wanted to come?'

'Yes, definitely. Is Alistair there too?'

Fenris winced slightly. 'Jassen broke his nose.'

Cullen's gaze met Dorian's, his misery and guilt surprisingly well contained for the time being, despite how much Dorian _knew_ he was experiencing.

No one had crowed about being _right_. No one had cracked a joke, done the whole, _'hate to say I told you so,'_ routine and Dorian certainly wasn't going to be the first. Sure, the list of _Things_ _To Be Discussed_ _Later_ was stacking up, but that was one that could most definitely be shoved to the bottom. 

'He'll be fine,' Lee said, nodding to herself. 'Nothing could ever make him less beautiful.'

Fenris nodded with no trace of humour. 'Agreed. You called Madeline?'

Cullen sighed. 'She fought me on it, but I did my best. Told her to check in with the police and she actually agreed. Sophia’s with her, they're both in Kent. I assigned security to their road for now.'

'Good,' Fenris said. 'We'll need to speak to her more, unfortunately.'

Lee seemed to understand. 'To ascertain whether or not she was… complicit?'

'It's possible she was helping him, though she may not have done so knowingly. This man, he was a master manipulator, if nothing else.'

'But Sophia will be safe, right?' Cullen asked with understated urgency.

'She has hidden trackers in all her shoes,' Fenris reminded him. 'They monitor her pulse. I've got people watching the signals closely, non-stop. I swear to you, she's safe.'

Slowly, Cullen gave a shaky exhale. 'To Thom, then?'

'Yes. Time for answers.'

As they made to leave, Cassandra threw her phone against the wall and, much to her apparent ire, it didn't even shatter satisfyingly.

'Maybe I should stay,' Lee said, eyeing her worriedly. 'This _is_ all sort of our doing.'

Cullen absently pressed a kiss to her knuckles, adorable little goodbye. 'OK. We'll be back soon.'

Dorian said a brief farewell to his friends, promising them they could leave soon and then he fell into step with Cullen and Fenris, all four members of security trailing like silent sentinels.

'What did you tell the police?' Dorian asked.

'The truth. They won't find Jassen, but the last thing we need is to get tangled up in something by trying to keep a lid on what we don't understand yet.'

'You're not in any trouble?'

'I had my private security ID on me,' Fenris explained breezily. 'Along with a few others. All fine.'

Cullen asked, 'Who else got hurt?'

'Two or three people, but no serious injuries at all. A scraped knee and a couple of bruises.' Fenris looked up at Cullen and cracked a wry grin. 'Oh, the guilt train is coming to town and hauling a few thousand extra carriages, is it? We knew what Jassen was before you did. This is on us as much as you.'

‘Did you know Thom knew him?’ Dorian enquired curiously.

‘I suspected he was involved with injuring Thom. I didn’t expect him to go off like that, though. I just wanted him to break his façade.’

Cullen said nothing and Dorian intertwined their hands, offering tactile assurance to his boyfriend, knowing that was what he best responded to.

'I should have listened,' Cullen said as they reached the pop-up medical bay, stopping abruptly a few feet from the door. 'To all of you, I'm— _fuck_. I should have listened.'

Fenris surveyed his friend. 'Cullen, it's OK.'

'No, it's—' Cullen's jaw tightened, a dark shadow passing over him. 'I should _know_ by now. Dorian,' he said, turning to his boyfriend. ‘I'm so sorry for not listening, for not trusting that you knew better.' His eyes moved between Dorian's rapidly and he was quietly begging for what forgiveness Dorian could give. 'I'm _so_ sorry.'

Dorian pulled the blond into him, brushing his hair back. 'Cullen,' he said, as they pressed close, chest to chest. ‘It’s not your fault. This fucker, he was _clever,_ all right?'

'And I was dumb.'

'No, you were kind and trusting. There's nothing wrong with that.'

'He could have hurt you, could have killed Lee and look at— _Fenris_ , he's hurt you so much.'

'Hey,' Fenris said, touching his shoulder. 'I'm tough, OK? Don't be shedding tears for me, you.'

Cullen managed a wet, sad smile as he pulled back, wiping his eyes. 'I know, I know, I'm just…' he exhaled roughly, eyes closed. 'This is all me. Everything leads back to me, all the bad strings.'

Dorian and Fenris shared a momentary glance. 'That's… pretty arrogant, darling,' Dorian pointed out gently, stroking his upper arms. 'And even if it was true, which it's _not_ , just because the focus of something bad is on you, doesn't mean it's your fault.'

Cullen nodded briskly, visibly pulling himself together. 'Sorry.'

'There's plenty to _actually_ apologise for later,' Fenris assured him sternly, though he was smiling and Cullen let out a tiny broken laugh that twisted Dorian's heart because he was _trying_ , bless him, he was trying to hold it together and it couldn't have been easy. Dorian was only holding himself together by virtue of residual shock still in his system, lending a level of disconnect to the madness of that day so far.

'OK, I'm OK.'

Thom was sitting up on the side of a very uncomfortable looking gurney, talking to a medic. He was nodding and loosely shrugging when he caught sight of the others and waved.

'Hey,' Cullen greeted. 'How are you feeling?'

The medic handed him a sheet of paper, a prescription maybe and then walked away, giving them space. 'I'm fine, son,' Thom said, taking in Cullen from head to toe. 'About to board the guilt train, I see?'

Fenris snorted and even Dorian laughed at that. Cullen said, 'I'm so sorry about this. How badly are you hurt?'

'Cracked ribs, that's all. Cullen,' Thom added, catching his gaze and holding it. 'I didn't come to work today thinking it would involve picking strawberries, all right? Security is a serious thing and I've always known the risks. Thank God I _was_ there. That little fucker would still be hanging around if I hadn't.'

'So,' Dorian pressed. 'You know him, then?'

Thom hesitated, his focus on Cullen. 'Yeah and so do you, son.'

Cullen blinked, frowning. 'I do?'

Fenris closed his eyes, Thom's words bringing confirmation where Cullen was just confused.

'Yeah,' the older man said heavily. 'You don't remember, though, do you? He's the kid who cut your face.'

There was a long, awkward beat of silence before Cullen said, 'No, he can't be.'

'He is,' Thom said. 'I'd know him anywhere.'

Fenris was looking at Cullen when he asked Thom, 'You remember him from thirteen years ago?'

'I tried to press charges on your behalf,' he explained flatly. 'Did everything I could, but the case was thrown out the second it got to court. Without you, there was nothing to charge for. I saw him a couple of times and then after, outside the court. I took him aside, held him against the wall by the throat and told him…' Thom looked away, taking a shaky breath, frown deep and ingrained. 'Told him he had you to thank for his wretched, ill-deserved freedom.'

Cullen was very still, his hand rigid in Dorian's grasp.

'Was that the last time you saw him?'

'Last I _saw_ , yeah. I uh, I heard from a mate of mine, few years later that he'd cropped up on the radar again.'

'What for?'

Thom didn't seem like he wanted to explain, gaze downcast, considering _._

 _'Thom,'_ Fenris pressed.

‘His name was Jassen then. Jassen Emory. Is it still the same?'

'Yes,' Fenris said. 'His record is completely clean, though.'

Thom didn't seem surprised. 'I'll help however I can, but I don't think it'll be easy to find him.'

Even Dorian could tell there was a vast, yawning well of _Shit Thom Wasn't Saying_.

'We need to know what you know,' Fenris pressed. 'I can debrief you privately if you think it's…' he threw an appraising glance at Cullen. 'Better that way.'

Nothing in Thom's expression changed. 'What you _do_ need to know is that this man is dangerous and due to… certain events, he seems to have developed a fixation on you, Cullen.'

'Did he run you over, you think?' Dorian asked.

'In hindsight, definitely. There's only one other man I can think of who'd know his face,' Thom said and then followed up with precisely _fuck all._

'Any chance of telling us that?'

Thom's hesitation grew. 'Look, I know you want answers and I don't have them, only… pieces, broken bits and without getting _flowery_ , I don't want you kids cutting yourself on 'em, all right? Let me look into a few things and then tonight, I'll come by. Explain what I can.'

Fenris's mouth was a flat line. 'I dislike this plan.'

'Yeah, well, trust me, it's better to be sure before wading around in muddy waters like this.'

'That's a lot of metaphors, Thom. You don't ever use metaphors.'

Thom let out a rumbling laugh, wry and tired. 'Tonight, I'll lay it all out. I promise. Black and white. Text me where you'll be, all right?'

'Are you trying to get rid of us?' Dorian asked, mildly indignant.

'Damned right,' Thom said cheerfully. 'I'm going to see my wife, have a tea and then sort some shit out. See you after this clusterfuck has died down,' he added, gesturing around as he got to his feet. 'Oh, loved the performance by the way.'

There was a mutual understanding about the fact that Cullen, oh so prone to internalising blame _already_ , was going to react poorly about this news. Dorian was prepared for hugs, for kissing, for squashing Cullen between himself, Fenris and Lee, if that's what it took, because he wasn't going to let him feel the weight of blame for this, he was _not_.

What he wasn't prepared for was Cullen taking a deep breath once Thom was out of earshot and saying, 'We need Madeline to come tonight as well.'

*

'She was closer to Jassen than anyone,' Dorian told Alistair while the red head accepted a small plastic cup of water to down his painkillers with. 'It makes sense, I suppose.'

'Yeah,' Alistair agreed after he'd swallowed. 'Christ, what a mess, though. The way she treated him and to have to go ask for her insight or whatever.' He shuddered. 'Lee only ever told me a little bit about Madeline, but I know she treated Cullen terribly. Poor guy.'

'Poor you, as well,' Dorian reminded him, patting his shoulder in lieu of hugging him, which was what Dorian really wanted to do, but couldn't risk hurting his nose, already blackening around the edges. 'It looks fine though, like, not wonky.'

Alistair grinned. 'Clean break, so I'm told. Personally, I was hoping for a bit of skew. Like Dumbledore, y'know? Or Owen Wilson!' He chuckled and it tapered off into a sigh before he added, 'I've had it broken before. It's not so bad. Few weeks of being careful.'

Dorian hated the delicate implication. 'Why don't you come stay with me? I can do everything for you, so you can rest.’

That made Alistair laugh and then he winced when it started to gain momentum. 'Ahh, fuck that stings. I don't _tend_ to make tea with my nose, so I reckon I'll be all right, even though your sofa was comfy as hell.'

'Fair enough, but I'm pretty sure Cullen feels so guilty he's going to be making you dinners for the next three thousand years.'

Oddly, Alistair didn't laugh at that one, only smiled sadly. 'No one feels guilt like he does,' he said quietly. 'I hate that this is all tied to him. Why can't it ever be about me?'

He added the last bit in an attempt at bravado and Dorian was too tired to follow up on the first, to ask for what he was sure were numerous examples of times Cullen had dealt with horrible things for which he blamed himself. He just rubbed Alistair's shoulder and sighed.

'You're going home, then?'

'Back to Lee's, actually. She's insisting. Feels guilty too, I think. Guess I'm about to get my sweet arse spoilt, eh?'

Dorian smiled. 'If anyone deserves it, it's you.'

'And you,' Alistair said, eyes shining. 'You deserve good things too. I think that's where we're all meeting up, anyway, so hopefully see you later.'

Dorian kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair with affection that bordered on ridiculous amounts of love. 'Definitely.'

*

'Your _elves of mischief_ are off cavorting with Isabela and her inner entourage,' Leliana informed him when he stepped back into the temporary HQ of the failed Wireless Festival. 'I'm fairly certain unsavoury things are happening.'

'Can't blame them for letting off steam. This whole thing has been a manic ball of stress. How's Cassandra?'

Lee grimaced. 'Not… great.'

Vivienne looked up from her tablet, eyebrow quirked. 'That's a generous way of putting it. I don't think we've officially met,' she added in a clipped purr, giving Dorian a dazzling smile. 'Vivienne De Fur; representative, party planner and organiser to the stars and beyond. I must say, I'm somewhat glad your friends have wandered off. They're rather high maintenance, though I suppose that's what makes them so useful for when one requires a distraction.'

'Yeah,' Dorian said, not about to slag off his best friends, no matter how true her sentiments might have been. 'They're also just about the most loyal and decent people I've ever known.'

Vivienne smirked at Lee. 'I see why Cullen likes him, aside from the obvious.'

Cullen was standing off to the side, one hand over his ear, phone pressed to the other while Fenris hovered nearby, subtly supportive. The second _Madeline_ phone call was in progress. It made Dorian's stomach clench just imagining what she was saying to him. The hunch of his back, the curve of his shoulders. Dorian could read so much just from his outline.

'…she'll ever recover, do you?'

Lee sighed and knuckled her forehead delicately. 'It's not the monetary losses for Cassandra. She's worked hard for her reputation. No matter whose fault it actually is, the buck stops with her. I do feel bad now that they’ve officially kyboshed it.’

'Ah,' Dorian said, undeniably relieved, though guiltily so. 'It's definitely cancelled then? The festival?'

'What other outcome could there be? The place has been cleared of all attendants, the park has been officially shut, nearby streets are in chaos and people are quite literally protesting outside the gates, demanding the performances they paid for.'

Cullen came over with Fenris. He had that terrible, brow beaten _tightness_ about his features, the kind that only came from speaking with Madeline. 'She's agreed to come tonight.'

Lee said, 'My, how _busy_ it'll be at mine tonight.'

'I almost wish I was invited,' Vivienne sighed.

Lee shot her a doubtful look. 'No, you don't.'

'No, I don't, but lying is so very polite.' She winked at Dorian and sashayed away.

'Natalie, darling,' Lee called out.

Natalie hurried over. 'I got through to Miss Korcari’s assistant and told her,' she cleared her throat and read directly from the screen. '" _No need for the emergency team so stop billing us immediately you blood sucking, life-saving bitch."_ ’

'Wonderful,' Lee said. 'Could you make us some teas when you have a second?'

Dorian watched Natalie go, heading away to get tea from somewhere, bless her heart, and he bounced on the balls of his feet a few times. 'So,' he said, trying not to seem overeager. 'Are we… going? Or…?'

'We're definitely leaving here,' Lee said in a way that Dorian did not take as victory, for the hesitation in it. 'But I did have… an idea.'

'Oh no,' Fenris moaned weakly. 'Not an idea.'

'Look,' she said briskly. 'We've caused this. Fucked it up big time and I just had this _idea_ of how we might make it a little bit better, add to that some free publicity, the _good_ kind, this time.' She smiled, something maniacal in it as she added, 'The _historical_ kind.'

*

The tea helped a tiny bit when Lee explained her plan. Dorian took comfort in that beverage, warm and soothing, as she explained her frankly _mental_ schemes to the three of them and then waited for their reaction.

'Fucking Christ,' Fenris exhaled through his teeth.

'Yes, let's do it,' Cullen said, fierce agreement driven so evidently by some unnamed guilt for all the mess he no doubt took responsibility for.

'I… bloody _hell_ ,' Dorian whispered. 'Haven't we had quite enough attention for one day?'

'This is to help Cassandra,' Lee reminded him, wrinkling her nose at his lack of praise for her plan. 'Mostly. Isabela will be up for it.'

Fenris glared. 'With the greatest of love for Isabela, she's up for _anything_ and didn't I already get pounded through the walls once today?'

'It's not a sustained thing,' Lee said. 'It'll be like a flash mob. We're in and out in ten.'

'That literally means nothing, you realise? From a security perspective. Doing something _without_ prep and advance warning does not make it safe! Have you ever even _seen_ the _Bodyguard_?'

'I want to do it,' Cullen said, so earnest.

'Of course _you_ want to do it, you'd do anything to assuage your ridiculously unnecessary guilt!' Fenris closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 'We are not, I repeat _not_ doing a fucking _pop up concert_ in Trafalgar Square!'

*

'So, we're thinking Trafalgar Square, this evening,' Lee explained primly while Fenris simply glowered at her, on the phone with God only knew how many extra people he was calling into make this whole insane project _safe_. 'And I realise this comes nowhere near to making it right for today.'

Cassandra watched Leliana with a dull kind of resignation. 'Nowhere near.'

'But, we are happy to do what we can.'

Cassandra's gaze slid off to the side. 'I want extra slots for my next festival.'

'We can discuss that, but you'll certainly get top priority negotiation.'

'You'll plug the sponsors?'

‘The ones we personally support and are contractually obligated to, yes.'

'Three songs.'

'Two.'

'Three.'

'He'll be arrested halfway through the third. We only have time for two. There's a rule about prolonged obstruction. If we keep it under ten minutes, technically, it's not breaking as many rules as would land us in jail. Two songs.'

'I want a duet.'

'He'll duet with Isabela.'

Cassandra was clearly considering it. 'I want a new song, too.'

'We don't have one.'

'Then no deal.'

'Be _reasonable_ , what we're offering is a once in a lifetime—'

'What you're _offering_ is the chance to use my audience, my connections to reroute these people to a place where _your_ star will be promoting himself and repairing his image by singing atop Nelson's bastarding Column!'

'No, he won't,' Fenris dropped in sternly as he walked by. 'Way too high.'

Cassandra's left eye twitched. Dorian was standing with Cullen, the pair dutifully silent while Lee laid out the terms.

'I want a new song.'

'And I told you, we don't _have—'_

 _'_ Well,' Dorian said, forgetting Lee's iron clad rule about not speaking at all. 'That's…' he looked at Cullen and then at Lee. 'I mean, he might have a song or two he could… do…'

Cullen's eyes clouded with concern. 'Dorian, it’s not—'

‘ _Darling_ , can we talk for a second?'

Ignoring the spluttering outrage of Cassandra as he pulled Cullen to a spacious, unpopulated corner, Dorian pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

'Hi,' he said, smiling.

Cullen smiled right back, that adorable, gorgeous little half curl that Dorian fucking _loved_. 'Hi.'

He took a breath. 'So, look. I know this is all insane and despite it not even being, like, two PM, I'm exhausted, _but_ _…_ ' he held Cullen's gaze. 'But, I know you have songs you could sing. New ones.'

'I never wrote—'

'I know, I _know_. You promised me you'd never write songs about me. You kept your promise, I know that without a trace of doubt. _But_ you've got some rattling around in here, yeah?' he whispered, tapping Cullen's temple with the pad of his finger. 'One or two?'

Cullen made a sheepish face. 'Or twelve.'

Dorian's eyes went wide. ' _Twelve?'_

'You're very…' Cullen gestured vaguely, cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. 'Inspiring.'

Unusual, insatiable curiosity filled Dorian then. 'What are they called? Oh my God, is one of them called _Body Glitter_? I bet it is, oh darling, no don't blush, don't be shy.' He took Cullen's warm cheeks between his palms, touched his lips to Cullen's, most natural response. Love him, kiss him, make it all better, make him glow from the inside out. Cullen never shied away from public displays of affection, of love, of kissing and this… _this_ was no different. He let Dorian kiss him, he returned it. Most beautiful, basic outreach, his breath fanned tremulously when Dorian drew away, their faces close and the _enormity_ of how much, how deeply he loved this man who could be unmade or made aglow under his ministrations…

Cullen was so _open_ , Cullen had no natural barriers, no way to hide from Dorian. Did not ever seem to _want_ to. It was perhaps one of the things Dorian had fallen in love with first. That Cullen was himself, he was wide open, he was _trusting_ and he held nothing back. Loved fully, loved with everything he had and when, if ever, he felt the sting of insecurity or concern that his love would not be appreciated or returned, he was helpless but to show it. He was a river, rushing through the land exposed to all elements, unable to guard itself, unable to build walls or stay in one place and hide.

Dorian had been staring a really, _really_ long time at this point and he knew it, knew he needed to put paid to all the intense gazing happening as he moved his fingers over Cullen's stubble, over his jawline, his cheeks. It was compelling, though, to keep falling just that _little_ _bit_ more in love with Cullen as time passed.

Cullen didn't prompt his silence to end, did not hurry him along. He waited in the moment with Dorian and Dorian, who still carried so many of his defence mechanisms, was happy to lay them down for a few moments, not feeling rushed, not needing to make a joke of the quiet, of the touch and the way they looked at one another.

Unapologetic intensity.

Yes, it was most definitely one of the reasons he loved him so much.

'Don't be shy,' Dorian uttered when the moment felt right. 'To share with me, Cullen.' He let his voice turn stronger, louder once more, removing them from the intimacy of that bubble. 'No more secrets, no more things unsaid. I accept you and your life. Completely.'

Cullen's throat bobbed slightly, tiny crease between his eyes. 'Dorian, I so, _so_ appreciate what you're offering, but this is a lot. Like, way more than usual, even for us. If I sing this song—'

'Ah, you already know which song, see!'

'—there's no going back.'

'Riiight,' Dorian said slowly, squinting doubtfully. 'Because when I got up on stage and announced my undying love for you in front of fuck knows how many, I was _super_ hoping to retire and live a dull, uneventful life, yeah?'

Cullen was unmoved by his snark. 'I swore I'd never sing about you.'

'You swore you'd never _write_ about me.'

'I swore to myself never to sing about you as well. Never to hurt you like him. What that _fucker_ did, I don't want to do the same.'

'Are they awful songs?'

'Well, they might be critically poor, but I don't… think so.'

'I mean, are they cruel? Spiteful?'

'No, of course not.'

'Do the detail all the worst of me in catchy fashion?'

'Dorian,' Cullen said firmly. 'There is no _worst_ of you and I think you know very well what kind of songs they are.'

Dorian grinned slightly, adoringly. 'Mushy love songs?'

He looked away, looked down. 'That's… possibly an understatement.'

'OK, close your eyes.'

Cullen did so without hesitation, the pair not _quite_ hidden from view in the little corner, but hidden enough for him not to feel self-conscious, or so Dorian hoped. He lifted Cullen's hand to his chest pressing his palm over his heart. It was heavy and reassuring, warm and so familiar, Dorian wanted to bury his face in the skin there.

' _Feel_ me when I tell you,' he said, dropping his voice a full octave lower, pressing Cullen just a tiny bit into the wall so that Cullen was facing away from everyone else. 'That you are perfect, that you are the one I love most of all in the entire world and that you, Cullen Rutherford, are never, ever getting rid of me.' He leaned in close, eyes falling shut for a moment and whispered, 'I _want_ to hear your song. I want to hear you sing about me. I think… maybe I've wanted that for a while now.'

Cullen swallowed thickly.

'So all that remains, all that _matters_ , is what you want. Open your eyes.' They were such _lovely_ eyes and they latched on him immediately. 'Now, what do _you_ want to do?'

Oh, but he was _painfully_ beautiful when he said, 'I want to sing for you.' Dorian would remember that moment for all time.

'Well that's good,' Dorian said in a strangely excited rush. 'Because I want to hear you. Now, let's go tell Cassandra you'll be debuting something _new_.'

*

It was strange to reconcile that less than twenty four hours ago, Dorian had been pretty much accepting of the fact he might never see Cullen again. To think that yesterday morning, he'd been blindly thinking that Cullen was _fine_ , he was off somewhere being fine, maybe a bit sad - but overall, not falling to pieces.

What a difference a single fucking day made.

Dorian wasn't ashamed to admit how completely fucking exhausted he was, that it was genuinely affecting his ability to take in smaller details, to keep track of conversations. Fenris, Lee and Cullen seemed to have no trouble in organising this… well, mini-concert, that seemed to be the best way of putting it.

It was, therefore, the most wonderful thing when Cullen joined their hands and leaned closer, whispering to Dorian, 'Want to go home and sleep for a few hours with me?'

*

Fenris wasn't leaving Cullen's side until Jassen was apprehended and that also meant he wanted Lee with him as well. Dorian didn't mind, listened to the sounds of their chatter from the front seats as Fenris drove someone else's car through the crowded roads of a city not built to be motorised and he leaned against Cullen, smiling to feel so at home among them.

Sera and Lana had put up a very polite fight against Dorian sending them back to their flat for some rest, but truthfully, he knew they were at least _slightly_ happy to have a bit more time to themselves. They had spent a solid month babysitting him, after all. Round the clock care, hardly ever going out, living his shadowy reclusive life with him, suffering alongside him. They deserved a break. They deserved so _fucking_ much.

Dorian's building was mobbed from the front, but Fenris went a clever way around the back and Dorian realised that was the way Cullen had been coming and going the whole time he'd lived there.

He was so tired by the time they got inside the flat that he couldn't focus on small details, like Fenris making tea and Leliana bickering with him about elements involved in the great, unknowable later. Dorian just wanted to sink somewhere soft and warm with the sounds of them in the background, Cullen all around him, his scent, his heat, his heartbeat and arms. He'd never wanted anything more.

Cullen looked around and Dorian said, 'Welcome home.'

'I missed it,' Cullen admitted quietly. 'It's such a part of you. I missed it so much.' He looked over Dorian's shoulder, question there in his eyes. _Where_?

Not the bedroom. Not yet. There were lingering traces in that room, ghosts of sadness and despair and loneliness. Bed where he'd sat and sent that awful, terrible message. No.

'Sofa?'

Cullen smiled and drew the curtains, shutting out the light before he pulled off his shirt, the air thick and warm enough to have Dorian almost sleeping on his feet.

'We'll be around,' Fenris said, his voice perhaps the most soothing thing of all, well, maybe a close second to the base scent of Cullen's skin. 'Rest. We'll take care of what we can.'

'Love you both,' Cullen said as he laid down on the sofa, opened his arms to Dorian who sat down, moved so they were both laying, face to face, Dorian's back against the cushions, Cullen's arms encircling him.

It was a rush of familiarity, of all the best feelings born of _safety,_ of love that demanded nothing and offered absolutely everything. Cullen smelled of fresh sweat, of shower soap and beneath that, just _Cullen_.

Dorian pressed his face into Cullen's neck, making a world from their backs, secret hidden place to rest and be close.

'Love you,' he mouthed against the hollow of his boyfriend's throat, soundless and gentle.

'Love you too,' Cullen murmured, stroking his hair and that was the last thing Dorian felt before he fell into a deep, blissfully dreamless sleep.

*

When Dorian awoke, the first thing he became aware of was that there were _people_ around and they were happy. The air was filled with pleasant chatter, with the smells of delicious things and the ambient sounds that came from movement, involvement and purpose.

He didn't _become_ aware of Cullen's bare chest against him, the warm, soft skin that his face was pressed into because he hadn't let it _leave_ his awareness. Cullen's arms were around him, one hand resting in his hair at the back of his head. Dorian's arms were around Cullen's middle. They were both overly warm, tangled together in such a way and Dorian let himself feel it then. Let out a sigh that soothed his soul because this was _real._ Not some insomnia induced fever dream sent to torment him. Cullen was really _there_ , he loved him, he was…

Performing in the streets of London later.

The same London where Dorian had gotten up on a stage before the whole world and declared his love for Cullen.

 _Same_ city where Jassen had broken out into a fight with Fenris, resulting in Thom getting beat up, Alistair's nose being broken and…oh _God_ , Jassen was someone from Cullen's past, the man who'd cut his face, _glassed_ his face when he was sixteen years old and—

'Sweetheart,' Cullen rumbled, pressing warm kisses to Dorian's forehead. 'You OK?'

Dorian looked up to meet Cullen's waiting gaze, to see that the blond had, in fact, been awake longer than him judging by the clarity in his light brown eyes, by the way he seemed to read Dorian with crystal focus.

'I'm—'his throat became caught and when he cleared it, he tightened his grip around Cullen slightly. Cullen's hand was stroking his hair, nose rubbing lightly against his. 'It's all coming back to me.'

Cullen nodded. 'It's a lot.'

'Not in a bad way.'

'Still, a lot's happened. Whatever you need, it's yours.'

Absently swirling his fingertips in a figure eight, he whispered, 'Our lives are going to be so different.'

'Our lives,' Cullen said slowly, meaningfully. 'Can be whatever you want.'

'I think I do want this,' Dorian said, voice so low and noiseless, it was only breath moving over his lips. 'I…hmm, I want what you want. I want to walk beside you and be with you and live every moment together. It’s going to be a big adjustment but, I think I can do it. I mean,' he added with a huff of laughter. 'I've already had the worst the press can throw. Hiding away never really helped and I don't want to spend my life hiding away just because things hurt sometimes. I was brave once, I was so fucking _brave_. I can be that again, with you.'

'You're already brave,' Cullen assured him, tipping his chin high enough that their lips were almost brushing, but it wasn't to kiss, he wanted to _see_ Dorian, to look at him. 'You are so brave, so brilliant, so beautiful. I see it all in you and I love you for it, so much.'

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing in an effort to push his heart back down into his chest where it belonged. 'I love you, Cullen. My God, I love you beyond the fucking telling of it,' he whispered roughly. 'I don't want to ever be without you, ever again. Promise me, no matter what, we stay together? No matter how difficult.'

Cullen's fingers swept lightly across his face, pushing back dark tendrils of hair that fell into Dorian's eyes. It was too long, his hair would need cutting at some point.

‘Will you promise me that _if_ something is difficult for you, you'll tell me? You'll be honest and not keep it from me if my—if this life is weighing heavy on you?’

'I promise.'

'Then I promise too.'

It took nothing to close the tiny gap, to press a soft, sealing kiss and hold one another tightly. Dorian's eyes fluttered shut, wishing they had more time, but content to know that later, tomorrow they would have all the time they needed.

'Oh,' he said, breaking apart suddenly, blinking. 'Tomorrow is your birthday.'

Cullen smiled ruefully. 'It is.'

'You'll be twenty nine.'

'So old,' he sighed, propping himself up on one elbow.

'Well,' Dorian shrugged. 'I'll be twenty seven in October. Are you having a party?'

From somewhere near the kitchen, Dorian heard a twin pair of almost identical _snorts._ Cullen rolled his eyes but none of his amusement waned.

'I'm not especially fond of parties.'

Dorian grinned. 'Shocking, that.'

'But if you want to do something fun, we can—'

'It's not _my_ birthday.'

Cullen was drawing him closer again, encircling him deeper in his embrace. 'We could pretend it is.'

'Don't try and seduce me with your _wiles_.'

Cullen smiled as he rubbed his nose against Dorian's. 'Base accusation, you cut me to the quick.'

'Well, I'm getting you a present,' Dorian insisted even as he pressed butterfly kisses all around Cullen's mouth. 'I can use that ridiculous amount of money you sent me for rent.'

'You don't need to get me a present,' Cullen insisted firmly. 'You really are the best gift I could ever ask for.'

Dorian smiled and it turned into a laugh. 'Darling, you can't say things like that!'

'Why not?'

'Because it's… no one says things like that, not _seriously.'_

'I do.'

'Yes, I know,' he sighed, laughter ebbing into perpetual fondness. 'But my poor heart can only take so much.'

'I'll try and limit myself then.'

'Five declarations a day enough?'

Cullen smiled as he kissed him, rolling slightly atop Dorian then. 'Nowhere near enough, but it'll be fun to try.'

It was a deep possessive kiss and then it was gone, a single kiss pressed to Dorian's nose before he rolled away entirely and sat up, looking towards the kitchen. 

'Ooh,' he said. 'Savoury pancakes?'

Dorian sat up too, not even bothering to question the absence of any awkwardness about the two of them being there. It felt nice, felt _safe_.

Fenris was using the pan, expertly flipping golden yellow pancakes which, by the smell and sight, contained all manner of tasty things.

'It's the only thing he can cook,' Lee said, eating a raw pepper from her perfectly chopped ,pile. 'Tea?'

'Please.'

Dorian looked around, burnt orange and gold light filtering through his curtains. 'What time is it?'

'Six thirty.'

'What time is the—?'

'We've got an hour or so,' Fenris said calmly.

'Sophia?'

'All fine, Cullen. Actually, Madeline texted me an hour ago and asked for security to bring them into London.'

‘Really?'

'Well,' Fenris said, eyebrow slanting. 'She didn't _ask_ so much as demand, but I do think she's realising that Jassen poses a real danger.'

'That's good. Who did you send to intercept Sophia?'

'My best two, plus I uh, called in a favour, got a friend to help out.'

Lee looked at Cullen while Fenris neatly flipped his perfectly round, thick pancake. She didn't seem especially happy.

'Oh,' Cullen said, a tiny bit awkward. 'Right. Is that… Anders, then?'

Fenris nodded neutrally and slid the pancake onto a plate. 'If Thom is out of commission, there's no one I trust more to keep Sophia safe. Plus, he's great with kids.'

Cullen watched him. 'You know what I'm going to say.'

'I do.'

'That I want _you_ to guard Sophia.'

'I can't.'

'Fenris, you're the best. She's safest with you.'

'Anders is just as good.'

'No, he's not.'

'You don't know him.'

Lee put the kettle back down harder than was strictly necessary. Fenris didn't spare her a glance, but Dorian saw him swallow lightly.

'He's bringing a few friends too. She'll be completely safe.'

'That's if Madeline even agrees.'

'She will. She's never asked for additional security, not once. I know she's scared. She'll let us take Sophia and guard her.'

'That's the plan then?' Dorian asked, padding barefoot into the kitchen. 'Take Sophia and protect her?'

'For now, it's one of many plans.'

'Where?'

'Somewhere safe.'

'The villa?' Cullen suggested.

Fenris shook his head. 'It's safe, but it's too remote and too wide open. Not ideal.' He plated the last pancake and sighed, shoulders dropping as he closed his eyes. 'I've had time to think about this man. About his motives. Everything he's done for the last month. He's _had_ you in his reach, Cullen. If he wanted to kill you or hurt you, he's had nothing but opportunities, especially this last week. He's had unlimited access to Sophia in the months previous.' He opened his eyes. 'I hate to say it, but I don't think his endgame is to actually hurt you or her.'

'He had no problem hurting you.'

'I was trying to keep him there, though.'

'Not after a certain point.'

'After a certain point, it's hard to resist the pull of the fight.'

Lee handed Dorian a perfectly made tea, leaning on the countertop. Cullen joined them in the kitchen, expression worn with worry.

'I would agree with you, if it wasn't for what Thom said. If he's the one who glassed me then that's an undeniable link, isn't it?'

Dorian watched Cullen carefully. 'Did he ever try anything with you?'

'No,' Cullen answered plainly before he added in a lower voice, 'And he had… opportunities there, as well.'

'He kissed you, though.'

'Look,' Leliana said briskly. 'This is important, I'm not implying anything to the contrary, but we're going in circles. Until Thom feels confident telling us what he knows, we should treat this man like any other stalker or assailant. Sophia's safe. We're all safe. Rosalie will be here tomorrow and she's agreed to stay close until we get this sorted.'

'Bran?'

Lee sighed. 'He refused any security. I'm sorry.'

Cullen's jaw worked. 'I knew he would.'

'I spoke to Cassie and she was happy to accept, so she and Danny will be safe, but Branson is… well, you know.'

'I know. Fen, could we have someone watch his place?'

'Already done. I told the guy to be discreet. He rarely leaves anyway.'

'Thanks.'

'So, for now,' Lee persisted. 'We put Jassen aside? At least until tonight? Not the threat, just the questions.'

'Yeah.'

'OK, that's fine.'

'Agreed.'

'Good. Let's eat and then get ready.'

*

Just because they weren't talking about _Jassen_ anymore, didn't mean that there wasn't non-stop conversation even as they ate Fenris's surprisingly tasty pancakes. They talked about what was coming up, the planning and preparation, Isabela's involvement, equipment, people they'd hired to film the whole thing. They talked about the song he'd be singing with Isabela, something from his last album, the one Dorian had not yet listened to.

'It featured her on the album,' Cullen explained, handing over his plate when Dorian got up to take them out to the kitchen. 'We can just play the instrumentals of that, won't be a problem.'

'And the new song?'

Cullen drew one knee to his chest. 'I'm still not sure I should sing it.'

Dorian looked back. 'Cullen.'

'Can we at least hear it?' Fenris asked.

Dorian put the plates in the sink, watching as Cullen said, 'What, right now?'

'Yeah. Before we put an arrangement together, at least?'

'I don't have a guitar.'

'Just sing it for us.'

Cullen looked over at Dorian, who smiled at him in answer to the question unasked.

'Uh, all right then.'

Dorian joined them on the sofa, Fenris sat on the floor, checking his phone every few minutes.

'You're nervous, darling,' Dorian observed gently. 'You must have played in front of your friends a million times, not to mention the world, no?'

Cullen gave a small, lopsided smile. ‘Yeah, but not for you.’

Dorian wrapped his arms around his knees. 'I'd love to hear it.'

'So would we,' Lee agreed with a smile.

'OK. It's called _Home_.' He took a slow, deep breath and let his eyes fall shut, silence of the room welling up until he started to sing.

*

They asked him to sing it three more times until there was no tremble, no breathlessness. Until he sang it with his eyes open, confidence seeping in with every passing moment. Dorian would never be able to accurately describe his feelings the first time Cullen sang that song, those _words_. Ironically, he thought maybe the only way to ever describe it would _be_ in song.

It went far beyond being _touched_. It went beyond the compression of his heart, love expanding within, reaching every part of him. It was beyond words.

'Cullen, it's incredible,' Fenris said quietly, watching his friend with a fierce kind of _awe_. 'It's… it'll be huge.'

Lee did not allow Cullen to shrug away the praise. She reinforced it, told him it was an amazing song and that he absolutely _had_ to sing it tonight.

Dorian had yet to speak, though not for lack of _trying_.

His throat had become stuck at some point, caught in the magic, in the sheer fucking _sway_ that was his boyfriend singing such a song.

Cullen slowly dragged his gaze to Dorian, the other two following suit and he could feel their focus, their expectation. He knew that every second passing by in silence would weigh heavily on Cullen, would permit worry to build, insecurity to delicately stack within the man he loved.

'Guys,' he said. 'Can we have a minute?'

'You can be honest and gush in front of us,' Lee said. 'We're well aware of how in love you are.'

Dorian couldn't wrench his gaze from Cullen, could not look away for love nor fucking money.

'Yeah that's… not what's gonna happen.'

Fenris sighed. 'Your loft is open plan, where are we meant to go?'

'OK,' Dorian said, moving forward across the sofa. 'You were warned.'

'Oh bloody _hell_ ,' Lee complained lightly as Dorian crawled into Cullen's lap, hands braced on his chest, eye contact never breaking.

'Sing it to me again,' Dorian breathed, fingers fanning out, hands pushing up over his collarbone, straddling him, all _over_ him. Cullen's hands were on Dorian's hips and he made a small, barely there sound deep in his throat when Dorian made his request.

'I… you want me to—?'

'Sing it to me, Cullen,' Dorian repeated, taking Cullen's hand from his hips and putting it over his heart as he'd done earlier. 'Sing your song for me and feel it.'

They were caught up in one another, tangled and tangling deeper with every passing moment but Dorian couldn't care, could not make himself aware of anything else but what he needed, wanted. His body was rigid with the effort of control, something _pushing_ at that boundary inside him, but he held it back. Kept one hand over Cullen's, heart pounding beneath it as he began to sing again, stronger this time, louder. The other hand was around the back of Cullen's neck, foreheads pressing, touching everywhere that mattered.

**_'My whole life I've been looking down,_ **

**_Pressure under glass, never thought to dream._ **

**_Oh, it's hard to face that I'm just a man,_ **

**_And all I have to offer is the best I can be.'_ **

On the back of a breath that _trembled_ , Dorian whispered, 'Feel my heart, Cullen, feel what your voice does to me.' Cullen's hand pressed harder and he sang stronger, emotion making it tight.

**_'But I will hold your hand in mine,_ **

**_Won't look away from the sky,_ **

**_You showed me it's OK to shine,_ **

**_Showed me love when you taught me to fly.’_ **

'Yes, sing to me, darling, sing me all your love, make me feel it.'

Dorian could tell Cullen almost wanted to look away, but he didn't. He held the gaze as if it was a thread between them and sang the chorus.

**_'Bring me home to the beat of your heart,_ **

**_Lead me deep into the reason you smile,_ **

**_Home is where we never part,_ **

**_Home is a dream that stretches for miles.'_ **

Dorian kissed him when Cullen took a breath, unable to wait anymore. In that kiss, he let him feel the brimming passion, the _too much_ inside his chest, the love, the burning need that only Cullen could evoke.

'I love it,' he whispered against Cullen's lips when he forced himself to stop. 'I love it so fucking much and I want to hear you sing it to the whole world, Cullen. Sing that song, let them all see it, feel it.'

Cullen groaned, a deep thing, almost a growl and he pulled Dorian into him, place a hot, hard kiss there like a brand. 'You honestly liked it?'

'If you keep asking,' Dorian said, smile curling his lips even as they were still lightly touched to Cullen's. 'We're going to need to get into a bed for me to give you the full answer. Suffice to say I can't wait to see you perform, my darling.'

'You're happy with me singing it?'

'Yes.'

'Not embarrassed?'

' _Never_. Did you really not write these down?'

'Not a word. I just… I can sort of hear them in my head. Especially when you're near to me, when you touch me, kiss me. When you look at me across a room.'

'I want to hear them all, when we can be alone and everyone is safe, I want you to sing me every single one.'

Cullen swallowed, seemingly overcome. When he exhaled, his eyelids dipped, pupils blown. 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' Dorian supplied. 'You're gonna make me so proud tonight, aren't you? Sing your beautiful songs and show the world how brilliant you truly are.'

'I'll do my best.'

'Your best is everything I ever wanted and more.'

'I missed you so much.'

'I'm here now and you're here with me. I'll be with you when you sing, I'll be nearby and I'll kiss you when you're done, how's that?'

'More than I deserve.'

'Silly,' Dorian said, kissing each of his eyes. 'You deserve _everything_ and I'm going to give it to you, one day at a time.'

Cullen's arms tightened around Dorian’s back again, cinching them into an embrace that showed no signs of ever ending, until Lee cleared her throat, of course, and said, 'We are _somewhat_ pressed for time, guys.'

*

Dorian chose an outfit for Cullen from his own wardrobe. The jeans fit fine, no problem that they were an inch too short because he was wearing boots, but the t-shirt was tight, Cullen's broad shoulders stretching the material thin, showing off every curve and dip.

'Fuck, you're like…' Dorian gestured up and down, mouth suddenly very dry. 'Sex incarnate.'

Fenris smirked. 'Perfect for singing a heartfelt love song.'

Cullen rustled around in Dorian's top dresser drawer. 'What's this?'

Dorian eyed the small, thin object. 'Ah, well.'

'Oh my God, it's the bracelet from Queer as Folk!' Cullen exclaimed, delighted. 'Brian Kinney's bracelet, the cow shell one!'

'I mean, it's _similar_ , yeah.'

Cullen wasn't having it. 'No, it's the same! You own Brian Kinney's bracelet, oh, if possible I love you even more.'

Dorian sulked. 'Yeah, yeah, go on. Mock away.'

'I'm not mocking,' Cullen assured him. 'I want to wear it. Can I?'

'Wear… Brian Kinney's bracelet?'

Cullen already had it around his wrist. 'Yeah, plus it'll help cover this,' he added, gesturing to the freshly applied black band, courtesy of Fenris.

'Suit yourself,' Dorian shrugged, secretly pleased. 'I can't help but think maybe you need a little…'

'A little what?'

Affecting nonchalance, Dorian said, 'Maybe a little body glitter?'

'We do not have time for you two to have sex,' Fenris reminded them sternly. 'Just in case that's some kind of _euphemism_.'

'It's not a sodding euphemism, I'm being serious. There'll be a lot of spotlights, from what you were saying and a little bit of glitter would look gorgeous.'

Dorian didn't quite risk looking directly at Cullen then, was probably safer not to. He wanted to get a new bed before they had sex in one. New bed, new sheets, new everything. That place was tainted and he didn't want to be with Cullen in it, henceforth, best to enforce control.

Control was good.

‘Next time,’ Cullen promised. ‘You can paint me up however you like.’

Control was _barely fucking there_ , but Dorian managed a smile, trying not to get hard at the very thought of it.

*

Standing beside the car, Leliana touched the crook of Dorian's elbow and looked at him, green eyes moving between his.

'This is going to be a big thing,' she told him, while Cullen climbed into the front seat, talking on the phone with musicians, ensuring they were familiar with his arrangement of the song _Home_. 'Last chance to sit it out. Once we're there, no going back.'

Dorian looked around, streets of London finally darkening, the sky aglow with low golds and pinks. The city was crowded, bustling.

'I don't want to go back,' he told her. 'Only forward.'

Leliana smiled, small and genuine and then, to his astonishment, she enveloped him in her arms. 

'I actually missed you,' she said, patting him on the back.

'I missed you too.'

'Come on,' Fenris called out. 'Plenty of time for loving family crap later on!'

*

Dorian watched the lights roll by, the city streets a familiar tapestry of windows, glass and vibrant possibility. It took longer than expected, often crawling through some parts but Fenris had been smart with time and they wouldn't be too late. Cullen and Lee were never off their phones, Cullen working on the song, talking with Isabela and then even calling Rosalie. Lee's job was far more demanding and as such, Dorian found himself ever so slightly tuning out her more stressful conversations, attempting to preserve his inner peace.

Apparently, orchestrating a mini festival _ad hoc_ was no easy task.

Dorian didn't know what to expect when they got out of the car, but thus far, it was as he'd sort of imagined. The most enormous crowd had gathered and _filled_ the space of Trafalgar Square. To prevent that crowd spilling over into the streets, there were people arm in arm on the outside, making a kind of wall, wearing white t-shirts with the words _Kaleidoscope Trust_ emblazoned on the front in rainbow hue.

'They offered to help out,' Lee explained before he could ask. 'Few of the other big ones too.'

'Charities?'

'Yeah. Their endorsement will go a long way to keeping us out of jail,' she added with a smirk, not remotely concerned. Cullen had sunglasses on, despite how it was darkening now and he looked like something from a God damned movie.

Dorian took a moment to wonder how, in the ever loving _fuck_ , he'd never realised who his boyfriend actually was. The moment passed quickly and he smiled, when Cullen turned on the spot, looking for him.

'Well, maybe if you took the sunglasses _off_ , eh Blade?' Fenris muttered.

Cullen found him and smiled, reaching for Dorian and kissing him firmly. A few people cheered and those few people drew more attention and _more,_ gathering momentum like a Mexican wave and by the time Cullen had let go, he had to raise his voice just to tell Dorian he loved him and then they parted.

'Stay with me at all times,' Fenris reminded him as Cullen walked ahead, led by two other bodyguards in plain clothes who'd been waiting for them. Lee fell into step with Dorian and the wall of people made a door, parting the crowd for them like the red sea.

They were screaming now, clapping and yelling. It was entirely different from being on a stage to suddenly walking _through_ the crowd. As they walked, people extended their arms towards Cullen who had taken off his sunglasses and stopped now and then to take hands, to kiss cheeks, to pose with the phone held high, all smiles and bright flashes.

Dorian watched him with a detached sense of _awe_ and admiration, no jealousy, only love. Cullen was sweet and he tried to stop for everyone but there came a point where Fenris literally put his hand on Cullen's back and gently shoved him forward into the centre where a space of about twenty feet, no more, had been cleared by another organisation with rainbow lettering that Dorian didn't get a chance to read because this was where the lights were, where the equipment was.

Cullen's stage of pavement in the open air, in the very centre of London. A couple of people came forward from the back, leaving their huddle and a large van parked up right outside the National Gallery. One of them put something around Cullen's neck, something that went in his ear. The other had his guitar. He waved at the people who were gathered there, who'd come to see him sing and they screamed for him, they truly did. Dorian followed Fenris around, headed close to another small huddle at the back, this one nearer to the fountain.

'It's more people than we thought,' someone informed Leliana urgently. ' _Way_ fucking more. They won't believe this is a protest.'

Lee was entirely unconcerned, watching Cullen with her arms crossed, pride in all her features. 'They'll have to prove it. Did you get the YouTubers here?'

'Yes, many different live streams are ready to go out, but we have to be—'

'Hi everyone,' Cullen's voice suddenly filled the space, the square and the sky itself, magnified incredibly. 'Amazing to see so many of you here and so,' he paused, grinning. ' _Unexpected_!'

Oh, they loved that. Cheerful, rebellious hollering filled the square and when the two people moved away from Cullen, he headed into the small centre part of the space. Strumming his guitar a couple of times.

'So, while I'm here,' he said into the compact mic against his cheek. 'I may as well sing a bit, what do you think?'

Dorian almost had to cover his ears.

Fenris was talking constantly, looking around the whole time. North quadrant this and south scope that. Zones and eyes, all the things Dorian didn't get, but was grateful for.

'It's been a weird time for me, the last month or so,' Cullen said, strumming a little more, a kind of looping intro as he talked to them. 'It's not the first time I've been saved by the people I love. There are always reasons to feel down, to think you're not good enough, but all you need,' he said, riffing the guitar with purpose. 'Is to remember why you started. Why you're here, why you love what you love, who you are and how you got there. Remember why you started and hold it close. Hold it tight and fight for it, always.' Cullen took a moment, looked around at them all. 'I started music because I had people who loved me and I wanted to sing for them. That's still the same today. I love the people who come to see me sing and I sing for those I love. You're all part of my reason why and I am so grateful for all of you. Please welcome my dear friend and incredible artist, Isabela!'

Dorian definitely winced at the noise level that time as Isabela walked with confidence in killer heeled boots to where Cullen was standing. She waved and greeted them happily.

'Well, hello again. Fancy seeing you all here! Cullen, are you busking in the street?'

It was like _theatre_ , the way the audience laughed and cheered, whistled and howled for them. Traffic was at a standstill as far as Dorian could see, people were getting out of their cars and above, a helicopter was circling.

'What if I was, would you toss me a coin?'

Oh, they liked that too.

'Depends on what you're singing, sweetie,' she purred into her mic, standing up on the side of the fountain now, looking down at him and he got up there too, followed her, the pair face to face and it was fucking _mesmerising_.

'How about we sing _Black Cherry Blues?'_

'Oh wow,' Dorian chuckled, genuinely having to cover his ears again at the collective roar of approval.

Cullen began to play. It was faster, more upbeat than anything Dorian had ever heard him play, a kind of urgency in every minor key, softness in every major.

'I always did like that one,' Isabela said with a roguish grin and then she began to sing.

Sound came in from the speakers at that precise moment and the song kicked off properly. They sang together in perfect, stunning harmony to a song about falling out of love, of driving alone at night and wishing for things to be better, and yet it wasn't a sad song, not really. There was something in it, something about the style that made it _almost_ a rock song. Isabela’s voice shone through, giving it that rough, gorgeous edge and Cullen… fuck but Dorian was just caught in it all over again, siren song expertly and purely woven by his boyfriend.

The helicopter circled and Fenris kept right on checking in with people who Dorian couldn't see. Lee mostly listened but she was on her phone throughout a chunk of it. Dorian listened, enraptured by them both and when the song ended, he applauded loudly along with everyone.

Lee answered a call while Cullen thanked Isabela and they both dutifully plugged the Wireless Festival, the sponsors and all who had worked so tirelessly for the event that had come to an unfortunate end due to security issues.

'Celine, if you buy me five more minutes, I will consider us even. All right fine, I'll owe _you_ , but I'd better not see flashing blue and red for at least three minutes thirty seconds, got me? Good.' She hung up and tapped Fenris's shoulder, holding up three fingers. He nodded at her like he already knew.

'Thank you all so much,' Cullen said. 'I can't stay much longer, but before I go, I want to play you something that only a few people have heard before. It's a new song from my upcoming album and I…' he paused and laughed when the sound from those people quite literally drowned him out. He waited a few seconds before he spoke again. 'And I hope you all like it. This song is called _Home.'_

*

Cullen played like he was born for it, he _sang_ like it was his gift to the world and Dorian couldn't help but feel that both were true. He sang that song, the one he'd mentally composed while falling in love with Dorian. With _music_ , with rhythm and instruments, it became something far more than just a song.

It was the soundtrack to Dorian's love for him. It was the song he would hear in his head for the rest of his life, sung live to hundreds, maybe thousands. It was perfect and beautiful and Cullen's voice echoed around the streets of London, bringing the heart of the city to a standstill.

When he finished, he said, 'I love you all, take care, see you soon,' and then he was walking back, removing his mic, removing the guitar.

Dorian was waiting to greet him with open arms, despite the blue lights approaching in the distance.

And if they made out in the car the whole way to Lee's place, neither of Cullen's best friends seemed to remotely care. Dorian whispered against Cullen's lips all manner of things; praise, promises, that love language born of trust and touch, of kisses and kindness. Cullen's heart was pounding as Dorian pushed his hands up under his shirt, and he was caught in the rush of performing, Dorian could tell.

'You were so _amazing_ ,' he kept saying as they kissed. 'They loved you so much, almost as much as I love you.'

‘How much do you love me?’ Cullen whispered, fingers tangled in Dorian’s too long hair. He was smiling, Dorian could feel it.

‘Tomorrow, on your birthday, my darling, I’ll _show you_.’

*

Sera and Lana sent him countless selfies of themselves in the crowd, thanking him for the heads up and even sending videos of the people chanting Cullen's name when the police turned up, presumably moments after they’d made their getaway into the car, and dispersed the crowd. Dorian smiled and replied to them with great big red hearts as he stood in the lift of Leliana's building, Cullen kissing his neck from behind, arms around his middle.

'The reception is staggering,' Lee said to precisely no one. 'Celine says the police are going to issue us with a massive fine.'

Dorian looked up. 'Oh, I'm sorry.’

'No, it's the best outcome,' she said lightly. 'But better still, others are doing it in various parts of London.’

Cullen smiled. 'Really? Who?'

'Harry, Charlie and Ellie so far and oh, I think Ed is doing something on the London Underground with James. Show offs.'

'That's good, right?' Dorian said, reaching up to play with the back of Cullen's hair, curls at the base of his neck. 'If others are doing it, then it's less blame or whatever on Cullen?'

'There wouldn't be _blame_. Celine is my inside woman within the Metropolitan. She's swayed things for us before and has managed to keep us just on the right side of things this time, although,' Lee added with a sigh as the doors opened. 'Not without a favour or two.'

Leliana's building was huge, tall and sleek. She had her own private elevator which took them to her frankly stunning penthouse apartment, the walls of which were a chalky, rough charcoal shade with silver and warm pastel pinks scattered around.

Cullen took his boots off and so did Dorian.

Inside, Alistair was walking around wearing one of her satin dressing gowns and what looked like a pair of very risqué shorts.

'My Princess,' he greeted her with a wry smile. 'Your superstar is the talk of the Twitterverse.'

They shared a brief, very chaste kiss. 'Good talk?'

'Compared to the last few weeks, definitely. I drank that champagne, the old one, I hope you don't mind.'

'Drink what you want, sweetie,' she said, fingertips trailing his cheek before they parted and she headed off into her bedroom. 'Make yourself at home,' she tossed over her shoulder, aimed at Dorian no doubt. 'I'll be out in ten.'

'Hey, you,' Alistair said, hugging Dorian and then Cullen. 'What a day, eh?'

Cullen was all concern. 'How's your nose?'

'It's barely a fracture, I'm fine. No sign of him, Jassen?'

'No, but we're hoping Thom will tell us more when he gets here,' Dorian said. 'Fenris will be up in a minute, he's doing a sweep.'

'Course he is. Still can't believe I actually got to see him… _do that_ ,' Alistair said, eyes going wide as he stared at nothing. 'Like, I've seen people fight before but never like that.'

'Me neither,' Dorian said, glancing at Cullen whose silence indicated he _had_ seen something like it. 'Let's get a drink, yeah?'

'Tea?' Cullen asked, heading confidently into the massive, sprawling kitchen area. Lee's apartment was _vast_ , stretching the width of the entire building, the areas separated by delicate little half height walls of wrought iron and coloured glass. The only rooms with walls were the bathroom, which Alistair went off to use, and the bedrooms, three in each corner, one of which Lee emerged from, freshly changed, dressed in the kind of clothes Dorian knew she liked to relax in. 

'Yes please,' Dorian replied before turning his attention back to Lee. 'Your place is gorgeous.'

'You should see her _shoe_ room,' Alistair whispered, dropping a wink.

'A girl is entitled to a few pairs of shoes,' Lee said.

Alistair snorted. 'A few?'

'Shall we go sit down? My back is killing me.'

Cullen made tea for everyone and Lee led them over to a sunken circle of gorgeous, silky inbuilt sofas, a kind of firepit in the centre made of red and gold crystals. Dorian dropped down onto the seat, marvelling at the strangeness of sunken seating.

The circle overlooked a sheer glass wall; a gleaming, picture perfect view of London all before them. Dorian couldn't even begin to calculate what a place like this might cost. It reminded him of the _bubble_ back in Corsica. So very her style.

'Thanks, love,' she intoned, smiling at Cullen when he handed her a tea.

Cullen saved Dorian's until last and sat beside him, knees tucked under him on the wide, spacious cushions, glittering fire in the middle on a pretty white stone square.

Lee took a sip and then said, 'The label just reached out to me.'

Cullen looked up. 'Oh?'

'They want the song and your apparent _upcoming_ album. They were,' she paused and huffed a laugh. 'Most _polite_. Asked how you were and everything. We need to talk about how we're going to proceed. With the Trevelyans poised to own a majority share of the label come next week, this makes things complicated for us.'

Dorian blew over the surface of his tea. 'They were buying it to wreck Cullen, weren't they?'

'To sue him and us by extension. Breach of contract is complicated and the Trevelyans are especially ruthless. Like sharks drawn to blood in the water.'

'Speaking of sharks,' Alistair cut in. 'I spoke with Morrigan. She's not going to bill you for anything other than the call out fee.'

Lee's expression softened. 'Darling, you didn't have to do that.'

'No, look, I know there's issues with money and the last thing you need is her billing half your assets for something that wasn't even necessary. It's fine. She loves me, that woman.'

'She _owes_ you, more like,' Lee muttered, but it didn't dent her appreciative smile.

'What does she owe you?' Dorian asked, helplessly curious.

'Oh, she doesn't owe me anything, really,' Alistair dismissed with a shrug. 'I was the sperm donor for Kieran, her son. She asked me and I agreed.'

'You have a child with Morrigan?'

'Well, she always said from the start she didn't want a Father involved unless Kieran asked for one. I was happy to help her, we go back a long way.'

'It's weird how you all _know_ each other.'

'The music industry is a small world.'

‘Indeed,' Leliana said with a heavy sigh. 'We need to discuss the Trevelyans. We’re going to need to come up with a solid plan against them or they'll take everything. I know them well enough to see their real motives here. If they truly are falling in fortune as much as Morrigan implied, they'll be looking to claim assets and probably land.'

'Oh, fucking hell,' Cullen muttered.

'Everything is all tied up and they must know it.'

'I don't understand,' Dorian said, looking between them.

'We've always pooled our money,' Cullen told him. 'But it's more than that. Three years ago, for purposes of investment and safety, we made this quite literal. All accounts, all land, all buildings, holdings, cars, everything. It's all split between the three of us, in _all_ of our names. If they take _me_ to court, they could take everything. Even the island.'

'Of course, we've gone to great lengths to conceal this. We use shell holdings and companies, it's always been well hidden, but…' Lee trailed off uncomfortably.

'The WhatsApp messages,' Dorian filled in.

'I think perhaps they already suspected,' Lee said. 'And although we did manage to gag the story from leaking publicly, they would have gotten wind of it from one of their many sources in the press and investigated from there. When Cullen went into breach of contract, they moved very quietly and quickly to take over the label and inherit this contract, to essentially hold Cullen, and all this,' she gestured around. 'In the palm of their greedy, grubby, incestuous little hands.'

Dorian shook his head. 'Fuck, I'm so sorry.'

'It's not your fault, at all,' she said sternly. 'So, idea number one is to buy the label out from under them.’

'Is that… possible?'

'It might be, but it won't be cheap.'

'How much?'

'Best estimates are one point five.'

'OK,' Dorian said, nodding to himself as determination filled him, galvanising him to do the right thing. 'Right, OK. We can sell my loft.'

Lee winced. 'Dorian—'

'No, look, you guys have helped me so much and I can't bear the idea of you losing all this. You said my loft is worth about one point five million, so… please help me sell it so you can do this. Please.'

Cullen kissed his shoulder and Lee smiled thinly. 'That's so kind of you, really, but it's not one point five _million_.'

Dorian blinked slowly. 'Oh. _Oh_. Oh _God_!'

‘Quite. We would need to liquidate absolutely everything. In time, we could make the money back as shareholders and owners of the label. It was always our intent to part with this particular label after this album anyway and start our own, but we were contracted and so, beholden.'

'This is all my fault,' Dorian moaned. 'I'm the reason you couldn't write anything. I'm the reason for—'

'You're not, I promise,' Cullen told him firmly. 'I was overdue anyway when we met. I hadn't been able to write for months. It was always going to happen.'

'Yes, please let's not have any more blame,' Lee agreed. 'It accomplishes precisely nothing.'

'So, what’s option number two?’

'We could do nothing, wait for them to take over and take us to court. It'll be messy, public and brutal. They'll invent claims, have people come forward with lawsuits of a personal and highly fictitious nature. They won't get as much from us as it would cost to buy the label, but the difference will be relatively negligible and it will leave us bereft.’

‘Those both seem… less than ideal.’

‘The third, and highly unlikely, option is to negotiate with the label and give them a full album _before_ the twins take over. By the time they do, Cullen might have just wriggled out of the lawsuit and the contract could be retroactively fulfilled, henceforth, they’d have bought a record label that we could then _leave_ just before they get their hands on us.’

‘Well, that sounds great, let’s do that.’

‘In theory, but we would need the album to be ready in a literal week. Seven days. An entire album.’

That did seem a _tiny_ bit impossible.

‘No fourth option?’

Lee inclined her head and said, very plainly, 'Fenris would just offer to kill them.'

Dorian snorted into his cup, but he was the only one.

'Right,' he moved on swiftly. 'So, it really _is_ drama all around.'

'Not to mention this mess with Jassen. Fenris told me he was the one who cut your face,' she said to Cullen. 'You definitely don't remember him?'

Cullen shifted uncomfortably. 'No. He never seemed familiar but there were times he looked at my scar, touched it.'

'To insert himself with Madeline for so long but then… what? Fight Fenris and leave?' Alistair mused.

'He only tried to leave because Thom recognised him.'

'What would his endgame be, were he still here?' Lee wondered aloud.

The door of Lee's apartment opened with a click and Fenris came inside, trailing Thom who walked on crutches.

'Evening all,' the older man greeted politely. He was nigh unrecognisable in jeans and a black, well-loved t-shirt that read, _Bad Moon Rising_ with a Creedence Clearwater Revival line-up printed beneath.

'Hi Thom,' Dorian waved along with the others. 'Fenris.'

'Building is clear and secure. Everyone OK?'

'All fine,' Lee answered for the majority. 'Thom, how are you?'

'I've had worse, not to worry, lass.'

Lee smirked into her tea. 'Was your wife angry?'

'Only that I didn't get a few good'uns in on the little fucker myself. I didn't tell her about the… well, that the hit last month was probably intentional.'

'Oh, you made me a tea,' Fenris sighed happily, reheating it in the microwave. 'So, how far into the doom and gloom chat are we?'

'We're onto Jassen.'

'Past the twins already?'

'We'll circle back.'

'Sophia?' Cullen asked.

'She's with Anders and two others. Completely safe and very happy. Madeline is about ten minutes away.'

'How is Anders?' Lee asked, deceptively friendly.

'He's got a cat.'

'A cat? I thought he liked to travel.'

'He can travel with a cat.'

Lee's eyes narrowed. 'No, he can't, that's the entire point of having a cat or any pet. You can't travel with them.'

Fenris kicked off his shoes, each one landing neatly the right way up close to the others'. 'I'm sure he'll figure it out. Thom, you want a tea or coffee?'

'I'll take a juice if you've got one. Don't know how you kids can stand hot drinks on a day like this.'

'We're hardened to it,' Dorian said.

Thom carefully lowered himself into the squishy, soft pit and laid his crutches down, accepting a glass of juice from Fenris.

'Right, so,' he said roughly _. '_ I spoke with my contact, a man I think you'll remember. Raleigh Samson. He's DCI now, head of major trafficking crimes and special consultant to the organised crime units.'

'Hmm, I'd heard he did well after… y'know,' Leliana said, dropping her gaze, brows lifting. 'He took most of the credit for it.'

'Well, he _did_ follow up on it,' Cullen argued gently.

'Yes, but he wasn't the one who offered himself up as bait, was he?'

'It hardly matters now.'

Dorian looked between them again. 'I'm sorry, what?'

Fenris said, 'Let's just stay on track, yeah? There's a lot to go through and Madeline will be here soon. Thom?'

Falling silent, Dorian mentally stored that away in his _Ask About It Later_ bank, no fucking way was he letting that one go.

'Now, a lot of this is unconfirmed but despite how high he's risen, and what a knob he is now by all personal accounts, I do trust Samson. He's not a liar. He and I spoke a few times about this man, who was a kid at the time when he glassed you. After he got released from the courts, I asked Samson to keep an eye out for him, any sign of trouble or what have you. The kid vanished and I thought no more of it. Then, almost four years later, I get a call from Samson. Kid's popped back up and this is where it gets complicated.'

'Where did he pop up from?'

Thom didn't answer at first, the words came out slow and hesitant. 'Samson told me he was being processed with a bunch of others from Folkestone.'

'What had he done?'

'He hadn't _done_ anything, not like that. He was processed with other survivors.' Thom took a deep breath, looking at Fenris. 'Similar to you, son. To what you went through.'

Fenris wasn't moving, not at all. He stared at Thom, expression neutral and oddly young. 'I don't understand.'

'Samson told me there were other rings. Other…' he paused, selecting his words carefully. 'Places where people were taken and made to fight. Jassen was one of a dozen processed after the fall of the London ring started the domino effect of taking down many more across the country. He'd been there longer than the others, than anyone in his ring. Samson said he was wild. Couldn't speak. No one came forward to claim him and when Samson ran his name in the system, it was gone, like he'd never existed. Samson asked me to come up and act as secondary identification, help to build a case for the social to claim him and take care of him. He's… younger than you, Cullen. The youngest in his ring, all told. Samson wanted to help him but social services and even adult services wouldn't take him unless they could be sure of his identity and Samson alone couldn't confirm it. He all but begged me to go but I refused.'

Thom exhaled slow and tired, rubbing his eyes.

'I was still angry at him for what he'd done to you and I couldn't let it go. Fuck him, I thought. Well, few days passed and I started to feel like shite about it. I rang Samson and told him I'd come up that day, do what I could but he said the kid was gone. There'd been a processing error and he'd been released with a bunch of others. Never heard about him again until I was fuckin' looking at him dead on today. Same kid, same eyes. No doubt.’

Lee had one hand over her mouth and Cullen had gone shock white. Dorian didn't know what to do, just watched them, listened in horror.

'Samson said,' Thom went on. 'He had markings on him. All up his back and his front. Lines, tattoos. Said they were bright red. Not as extensive as yours. Each line was a—'

' _Enough_ ,' Lee said suddenly, curtly. 'That's enough, Thom.'

The older man nodded. 'Sorry.'

But Fenris, who was now starting to breathe a little faster, said, 'Each line was what?'

Cullen leaned forward slightly. ‘Fen, we should talk about this first, this isn't something you need to—'

'Each line was _what?'_

Thom looked at Cullen and Lee, seeking permission which they did not give. Instead, it was Cullen who answered. 'Each line was given after a successful fight. An opponent beaten.'

Hollowly, Fenris echoed, 'Beaten?'

'Fen, we should—'

'Just… please, just tell me. I'm _asking_ you to tell me.'

Cullen swallowed slightly. 'Killed.'

Fenris looked down at his arms then, hidden by long, black sleeves that he pushed up to reveal bright, artful lines and swirls branching off from the main trunk down his forearm. The ink stood out against his bronze skin and the lines remained sharp and precise, ran in thin rivers down his fingers even.

'I killed a lot of people then,' he said in a completely normal voice. 'People who weren't bad or evil, were just thrown in a pit with me for… entertainment. People who'd been taken. Snatched from their lives, to have it ended by me.'

'It's not that simple,' Leliana told him, a low tremble in it. 'They made you forget every day. Shot you up with—'

Fenris raised a single hand. 'I don't need to know anymore.'

Cullen and Lee looked at one another, then at Dorian, Thom and Alistair.

'We can talk more later,' Cullen offered. 'Whatever you want.'

It was a slightly panicked blink from Fenris that indicated he hadn't realised he'd become the centre of attention until just then. He pulled down his sleeves and affected a forcibly calm expression.

'No, I'm good. I was just curious.'

Lee turned away, mouth in a thin line before she climbed out of the circular sofa, padding barefoot to the kitchen.

'Go on,' Fenris told Thom, ignoring her.

'Well, that's it, really. He told me the kid was wild, borderline feral, but obedient enough. No name, no speech, just markings. It was only by random chance that Samson even recognised him. He came with me to court.'

Cullen frowned. 'I never knew he went.'

'He wouldn't tell you, would he? He liked you,' Thom added with a ghost of a smile. 'Always tried to watch out for you and yours when he could.'

'I remember,' Fenris said. 'He was always one of the decent ones. Has he not heard anything about Jassen since?'

'I called him earlier, wanted to double check everything before I came to you and no, he hasn't. He ran a check on the name, Jassen Emory, but I suspect we got the same record you did. Squeaky clean. Born, grew up, no siblings, parents died when he was twenty, became a healthcare worker.’

'The record is fabricated,' Fenris said. 'He's had military training, not just… whatever training he underwent in Folkestone. He's served somewhere.'

'Could be private.'

'Even so, there should be a record. There's a record of my service and I quite literally trained across a bunch of black sites, map-less and unsure of where I even was. He's wiped it.'

'Well, he's a hacker, right?'

'He must have picked up a few decent skills, to say the least.'

Dorian cleared his throat. 'So, this guy, he cuts your face. Doesn't get sent down, but then he’s… taken to this place in Folkestone for years. He comes out, he's wild and lethal, picks up new skills, trains some more, we assume?’

'So far, that seems accurate, yeah.'

'OK, so what does he want with Cullen?'

Cullen seemed to be battling internally with himself and abruptly _lost_ when he squeezed his eyes tight shut and said, 'I still don't think he wanted to hurt me.'

Everyone sighed.

'I just, look… you were right and I was wrong about so much, about everything except… he had so many opportunities to hurt me, to hurt people I love.'

'He _took_ some of those opportunities,' Dorian reminded him. 'He hacked my phone, he leaked pictures, messages. More than that, he went to the papers with them. He didn't just info-dump them. He targeted you.'

'But why? He's a trained killer, right? Why hurt me that way?'

'Maybe to isolate you.'

'He _did_ that and he still didn't hurt me.'

Fenris remained plainly doubtful. 'Dorian said he was giving you sleeping pills.'

Cullen's expression turned remarkably sober. 'I realise how it sounds, but he didn't _do_ anything. I would know and he… never slept, anyway. We shared a room a few times. He would sit wherever there was a window, shut his eyes but he never slept.'

Dorian rubbed Cullen's back. 'That's hardly reassuring, no offence.'

'I'm just saying, I don't get the motive behind this, any of it.'

'That's because you can’t conceive of hurting people,' Leliana told him from the kitchen, bustling around with fresh mugs.

Alistair looked up from his phone. 'Oh, you're on the news!'

'The big news?'

'Yeah, BBC One.'

Cullen winced in anticipation. 'Good?'

'Yeah, pretty positive overall. You promoted good messages, gave the people a great performance. No one is especially happy about what you caused in terms of traffic, but that's hardly unusual for that particular area, is it?'

A pleasant chiming sound came from the door.

'That's Madeline,' Fenris said. 'I'll let her in.'

Cullen and Lee watched him go, tension in the air thickening when no one spoke until he returned with Madeline in tow.

She was… shockingly pale and almost entirely without makeup. Dorian couldn't help but gawk. The woman who always looked pristine; freshly styled hair, makeup, nails… now had her hair in a messy bun, her skin was pale and blotchy, spotty around her jawline and she was wearing a plain blue shirt with jeans.

'Oh,' she said, eyeing the circle. 'You're _all_ here then.' Her dark brown eyes landed on Dorian, lip curling a tiny bit. 'Caught your _performance_. Sickly sweet.'

'Hi, Madeline,' Dorian sighed.

'Sit down,' Lee said flatly. 'This isn't about us or any petty bullshit.'

'Why else would I be here?' she sneered quietly, but she did also sit down at the furthest edge of the circle, back to the glass wall. 'So, what's happening?'

'Jassen is a very dangerous man, as I explained to you on the phone.'

She looked at Cullen and barely gave anything away except for the way her throat bobbed slightly.

'Dangerous how?'

Fenris said, 'Dangerous like me.'

Madeline didn't seem especially surprised, just blinked and looked away. 'Is there proof?'

'Does there need to be?'

'I—he hasn't contacted me for nearly two weeks. He stayed with you?'

‘Until today, yes.’

'He was angry at me when I went to court for the restraining order,' she said, frowning. 'He scared me a bit. He's never been like that.'

'Like what?'

'He just… I don't know. He was angry. He never gets angry.'

'Madeline,' Fenris said. 'We need you to be completely honest. None of us care, no one would be disappointed, believe me, but did you plan this with Jassen?'

'Plan what?'

'Anything.'

'I don't know what his _plan_ , if he had one, even is. I met him a few years ago, we—'

'How many years ago?'

Madeline's eyes narrowed at Fenris then. ' _After_ I had Sophia. We were together a couple of days, during that—' she cleared her throat. 'That time I was away. When she was younger.'

'How did you meet him?'

'In a bar. He bought me a drink, we flirted, fucked in the toilet, that what you wanna hear, short stack?' she snapped, visibly agitated. 'I saw him a couple more times afterwards, but then I ghosted him.'

'Did you contact him a few months ago?'

'No, he contacted me.'

Dorian's stomach clenched. 'He told me you contacted him.'

'Well, he's lying. He friended me on Facebook. Asked me out for a couple drinks. I couldn't believe how different he looked.'

'Different?'

'Yeah. He was… I don't know, just better looking. Cool haircut, hit the gym. He took me out for drinks and dinner, didn't even want sex. He wanted to know about me, everything about me. He—' she cut herself off abruptly, lips pressed together.

'Go on,' Fenris encouraged as Lee brought them all fresh drinks, including a coffee for Madeline which she took with a slightly bemused frown.

Madeline hesitated before she said, 'He reminded me of you,' to Cullen.

'When I was younger?'

She shrugged. 'I guess.'

'Did he ask about Cullen?'

'Not at first, no. I saw him all the time it was exciting. He was different than most guys. He gave me all his focus, all his attention. He didn't care that I had a daughter. They all care, they all leave because of it, eventually. He didn't. He liked her, got along with her.' She tapped the mug, gaze fixed down. 'He did remind me of you, a lot.'

'When did he start asking about Cullen?'

'Two months ago, maybe. He wanted to know what you were like. I thought he was just a fan of your songs. He begged to come to Disneyland. Despite what you might think,' she added with a somewhat sulky, but determined frown. 'I never told him about… _things_. In our past. I never told anyone that.'

Lee’s said, 'Because of how it would make _you_ seem, Madeline. Not for Cullen's sake.'

'You don't know everything, _witch_ ,' Madeline said, glaring malevolently. 'There are things he did that even _you_ would baulk at.'

'Did you ever meet any of Jassen's family?' Fenris asked.

'No. His parents are dead and he's an only child.'

'Did he ever do anything strange?'

'Like what?'

'You tell us.'

'No. He was completely normal. Kind of a pussy, but,' she shrugged again. 'Nothing weird.'

Lee asked, 'Does he have tattoos?'

'Yeah, red ones.'

'What kind?'

'They're…' she thought, frowning. 'Jagged lines, like lightning. They're all over his back and his chest. He said he got them in Thailand.'

'He lied.'

'So you say. Where are you keeping Soph?'

'We don't think Sophia is his priority, but until we have him, I want to keep her safe. We all do. She's with someone I trust completely.'

Madeline's knee was jogging slightly and she fixed Cullen with a grim kind of stare. 'I would never put her at risk.'

Cullen nodded slowly. 'I know.'

'She's my daughter, I love her more than anything.'

Lee scoffed lightly. 'So _you_ say.'

'The fuck would you know about it?' Madeline spat.

'This is not helpful,' Fenris reminded them both. 'Madeline, is there anything else you can tell us?'

She blew air through her teeth. 'Look, he seemed completely normal. Like a nice guy. He said he loved me, said he loved Sophia and he wanted to be a family. He talked about us getting married one day, about adopting her.'

Cullen's breath caught. 'What?'

'Like I said, he seemed like the perfect _nice guy_. A bit dumb, definitely whipped but—'

'He wanted to adopt her?'

'If we got married, yeah. He was fine with it, excited even.'

Cullen started forward, but Fenris lifted a hand to forestall him. 'She's fine _,'_ he quickly reassured his friend. ‘She’s safe and fine, Anders checked in with me literally seconds ago. She’s playing with his cat and they’re staying up late to eat pizza and ice cream. She’s _fine_.’

Dorian put his arm around Cullen’s shoulder and held him gently, offering what comfort he could.

With a tight nod, Cullen looked away.

‘How long will she be with him?’ Madeline asked.

‘Just for tonight and then tomorrow we’ll make a more concrete plan going forward.’

‘You really think she’s in danger?’

'I think,' Lee said slowly. 'If anyone is in danger here, it's actually you, Madeline.'

'Me? Why?'

'I agree,' Fenris said. 'If I offer you protection, will you—?'

'Yes,' she blurted out. 'Yes, I'll take it.'

'Madeline,' Cullen said, staring at his ex carefully. 'I've never seen you scared before. Are you _sure_ there isn't something we need to know?'

The older woman pursed her lips after a pregnant pause and shook her head. ‘If there's protection, I'll take it until he's… caught or whatever. Please,' she added, looking back up at Cullen. 'Keep me updated constantly about Sophia. As often as you can.'

'Of course.'

‘Thanks.’

She didn't make a move to leave.

'Look, uh. This is awkward but… I need some money.'

Fenris blinked. 'You had twenty thousand last week.'

'Yeah,' she said slowly, staring at her untouched coffee. ‘I need more. I'll drop the restraining order if you help me out.'

Cullen was about to speak when Lee glared at him, preventing what would no doubt be blind _agreement_ and took over seamlessly. 'What you threatened was disgusting and frankly, if you're to take us to court, we're happy to go. His reputation's rock bottom as is and we've nothing left to lose, unlike _you_!'

Madeline rubbed her face. 'All right. I'll drop it _and_ I'll sign something if you want.'

'Sign what?'

'Like… papers. Agreeing to joint custody.'

Cullen went very still, barely breathing. ‘Really _?'_

Dorian had never seen someone perfect _passive aggressive misery_ quite like Madeline was at that very moment.

'I need the fucking money and she's… you've always been a good Dad to her. You take care of us. I want that to continue. I shouldn't have gone to the court in the first place, I was angry. I wanted to hurt you.’

‘Nothing new there,’ Lee muttered.

‘You don't need to sign anything if you just need money,' Cullen told her before anyone could stop him. Both Fenris and Lee glared at their friend, but then he added, slowly, stronger, ' _However_ if you wanted to discuss signing something like that, I'd be very happy to.'

'Thanks.'

Lee asked, 'You want it in the usual account?'

'No, send it to a different one. I'll text you the details. It's not my account, just a heads up. I borrowed money from some people and they want it back.'

'How much do you need?'

Madeline had the good grace to look _slightly_ abashed when she said, 'Eighty five.'

Lee, who had sat next to Fenris upon re-joining them in the circle, took a deep breath and stared at the fire. Fenris placed his hand over hers and Cullen shook his head.

'Fucking _hell_ , Madeline,' he muttered.

The dark haired woman looked up sharply. 'What was that?'

Dorian fully expected Cullen to backtrack, but that wasn't what happened.

'I said, fucking hell,' he repeated flatly. 'What the hell did you spend that kind of money on in a week? Jesus, _we_ haven't spent that much money in a week! What kind of lifestyle is worth this? How much do you _need_ to fill that void inside you? It's never enough. No one and _nothing_ is ever enough.'

Madeline's eyes narrowed and her bottom lip trembled. 'You've got more than _enough_ money going around and she's your daughter, why shouldn't you pay for her?'

Cullen took a deep breath, stiffening beneath Dorian’s arm. 'It's not _for_ her, though, is it? It's not for _our daughter_ , who only becomes _ours_ when you want something. Are you going to sit there and tell me that Sophia cost you a hundred grand last week? Living in a house with no mortgage, with prepaid bills, with credit cards and cleaners and people coming in every day to do whatever you want, you somehow spent more than most people earn in a year?'

'Who the fuck are you to shame me for wanting a little joy in my life? You're a superstar, you can _afford_ it!'

'But you're _not_ my girlfriend, Madeline,' Cullen said and oh, Dorian could have applauded him. 'Sophia is my daughter, I will always love and give her whatever I can and I will do my utmost to take care of you both because you are her Mother but that doesn't mean _this_. That doesn't mean…' he took a deep, serrated breath. 'That doesn't mean you get to _use_ her like this to get what you want from me. Not anymore. You're an adult. You're smart. You can make your own play money.'

Madeline said nothing, glaring violently at him until it simmered and those eyes slid away. 'I lost it.'

'I know,' Cullen said. 'I know you did and I'll pay this lot off, but next time you gamble, it's going to cost you the house and if you can't house yourself and _our_ daughter, then she can come and live with me. It's as simple as that.'

Cullen's voice didn't falter, _he_ did not falter and Dorian was so, so proud of him.

'I've never—what am I supposed to do?'

'She starts school in September,' Cullen reminded her. 'You'll have time to figure that out, if you want to.'

Moodily, she mumbled, 'Yeah, maybe.'

'Anything else?' Fenris asked her.

'No. I'll send you the details.'

'We'll do the same about the security team. They'll be to you tonight and will go over protocols. We'll keep you constantly updated about Sophia. I promise you, she will be safe, no matter what.'

Madeline stood up, placing the now cold coffee on the floor as she climbed out of the pit, shoes still on which Dorian found rude.

'All right then,' she said and left without another word.

As soon as she was gone, Thom let out a massive whooshing breath and said, 'Fucking Christ, I almost forgot what a bitch she is!'

Dorian pulled Cullen into a messy sideways hug, kissing his neck. 'You did so, _so_ fucking great. I'm so proud of you.'

It didn't matter that Cullen was trembling all over because he managed a shaky smile which grew steadier when Lee and Fenris joined the hug.

Lana had been right. It was… oddly like _recharging_.

*

They talked a little bit more about Jassen, but the conclusion they'd come to had not changed, nor had Madeline's information done anything but confirm what they already knew.

'Are you staying here tonight?' Lee asked Dorian and Cullen, opening a bottle of wine while Alistair played music and danced in a way that he no doubt thought to be seductive. Fenris spoke with Thom at the door, low and serious, glancing over every now and then.

'Uh, I think so,' Dorian said. 'If that's OK?'

'Of course,' she replied easily. 'Cullen's room is all made up.'

Dorian looked at his boyfriend. 'You have a room here?'

Cullen just smiled.

Thom left with another round of goodbye's from everyone and then Fenris joined them in the kitchen, Alistair now singing along to _Wolf Alice_ while holding a wooden spoon.

Leliana poured herself a glass of wine, leaving the bottle beside a set of pretty glasses for anyone else to help themselves to.

'Are _you_ staying?' she asked Fenris in a would-be casual kind of way.

Dorian looked at Fenris quickly, unable to contain his curiosity when the man answered, 'I'll be up all night, no sleep.'

'Yes, I know,' she said, sipping her wine. 'That's why I asked.'

Cullen didn't seem remotely bothered, rummaging through Leliana's fridge to see what late night delights he could whip up and Dorian leaned on the countertop, watching the two speak guardedly, carefully.

Fenris glanced at Alistair, as if considering something.

'It's probably not a good idea.'

Cocking her hip slightly, she asked, 'Why?'

'You know why.'

'If you're not going to _sleep_ , what's the problem?'

'You have Alistair here, I don't see why—'

'You were hurt today, I watched you get hurt,' she cut across him, green eyes holding green with no intent of letting go. 'Dorian had his moment, fucking _Cullen_ had his moment with Madeline.'

Fenris seemed almost afraid. 'And you want yours?'

Dorian wondered if he was hallucinating. Behind him, Cullen was hauling out eggs, cheese, bacon, sausages, vegetables and fuck knows what else, either supremely unconcerned with the barely veiled conversation his friends were having or entirely unaware.

'I miss you.'

'I miss you too.'

'Alistair is here. He can… be the buffer.'

'That's dangerous.'

'If you're not going to sleep then I don't see _why_ it's dangerous.'

Fenris nodded. 'All right, it's too painful for me.’

Dorian looked around. Alistair was dancing and singing at the other end of the apartment which may as well have been miles away and Cullen was quite literally cracking eggs into a pan, singing to himself under his breath, matching rhythm and tempo to whatever Alistair was caterwauling.

'It's painful for _you_?'

'Yes, it is.'

'I'm not asking you to fucking marry me.'

'I know what you're asking.'

'So _do it.'_

'Lee.'

'You had no problem in Paris.'

'That was different. It was broad daylight and I'd slept more than four hours the night before. No, don't _scoff_ at me like that. I'm not being cruel.'

'It feels like it.'

'I'm _not_. It's… I'm worried about losing control. Hearing Thom say all that, I just…' Fenris trailed off again, shaking his head. 'There's a part of me that's detaching and I need time to work through that. I'm sorry. I'll stay here if you want, of course, but I won't _stay_. Not like that.'

'Not with me.'

'Nothing is worth risking you.'

In a measured exhale that came across more like a sigh, Lee said, 'You can't live like that forever.'

Fenris lowered his head. 'It's better than the alternative. Do you want me to leave?'

She drank more wine and shook her head, expression shuttered. 'No, stay. I still want you near, all of you. Tomorrow we can face this all head on. Take on the world together.'

Alistair came over, slipping an arm about her waist.

'All's well, my love?' he asked sweetly, glancing at Fenris without any trace of expectation. 'Is he staying?'

'Not like that,' Lee answered with a smile that clearly required effort. 'But he'll be staying in his own room.'

Alistair seemed sad. Dorian hadn't blinked in a very long time.

'Cullen,' Lee said, no change in the volume of her voice and he answered right away, indicating he'd heard everything. 'Don't make one for me, I'm too tired.'

'You sure? I made bacon flavoured peppers.’

'I'm sure. I need a good night’s sleep with a bottle of wine in my belly, nothing there to churn with,' she chuckled, looking at each of them in turn. 'Good night, boys. Alistair, I'll see you in a minute.'

He kissed her hand and she left, headed towards her bedroom. Fenris watched her leave and then muttered, 'Fuck.'

'I'm sorry,' Alistair said, lightly touching his shoulder, unusually awkward.

'No, you did nothing wrong,' Fenris assured him. 'Go make her happy if you can. I appreciate everything you do.'

The shorter man walked away, headed to the glass wall, phone in hand.

Cullen began plating up a bunch of bacon and sausage muffins with all manner of fried vegetables on the side, the buns left open to add whatever anyone wanted.

Dorian shook himself, abruptly starving now that he could truly focus on the delightful smell. Alistair served himself and then hugged them both goodnight, headed the way Lee had gone.

'You OK?' Cullen asked Dorian.

'I just… that was intense.'

Cullen nodded like it was nothing new. 

'Want to eat in bed?'

Dorian looked over at Fenris, standing alone like a statue, watching the city. 'Maybe we should stay with him a bit longer?'

Cullen followed his gaze, gauging his friend. 'I think he wants space.'

'Space would be lovely,' Fenris confirmed kindly. 'Go to bed, eat something, sleep. Lee's right, tomorrow we can take it all on but for now, rest. Love you both.'

Dorian grabbed the ketchup and let Cullen lead him towards another corner, through a door and into a room that reminded him so much of the mansion, it had Dorian smiling before he'd even fully taken it all in.

'So, you write on walls everywhere, do you?'

Cullen grinned, setting down the plates on a small bedside table, turning on a purple and red lava lamp. 'I'm an agent of chaos. Now, come snuggle with me and eat the delicious, fatty things I made you.'

'Then can we talk?'

'If you can still talk after eating one of these bad boys, then you have my eternal respect. And of course we can talk. We can do whatever you want.’

Cullen stripped off, all the way down to a pair of Dorian's boxers. He drew back the duvet and dived in like a child, leaving it open for Dorian.

'C'mon,' he bade, patting the mattress. 'There's a time limit on these snuggles.'

Dorian stripped down too, sliding into the cool, soft sheets that smelled of Cullen. Plates on their laps, bare shoulder to shoulder, they ate in peaceful quiet, broken only by Dorian humming the tune of Cullen's latest ( _best_ ) song now and then.

After the food was gone, Dorian snuggled into Cullen’s side, shuffling him down and down deeper into the bed.

‘I think I’m too tired for talks.’

‘Love being right.’

‘No eternal respect for me, then?’

Cullen kissed his hair, stroking his back. ‘I still have four allowances to say soppy, ridiculous things, right? So I can wax poetic about eternal love and all that?’

Dorian grinned and snorted sleepily. ‘It resets at midnight, too. Hold on a while and you can truly overwhelm me, Rutherford.’

‘I’ll take pity on your delicate sensibilities and save my best stuff for when you least expect it, how’s that?’

‘Mm, sounds good. Love you.’

‘Love you more.’

Dorian fell asleep with a tiny smile on his lips.

*

Jassen watched them through the glass, watched them leave the open space one by one, all but Fenris, who stood guard most of the night, staring out at the city as if he could sense Jassen's gaze, albeit through a heat seeking lens. As he watched, Jassen reflected.

He'd miscalculated. It was rare, but it happened. There would be consequences. Jassen would deal with them. He always did.

They knew more now. The old man had come with information, with _history_ and they would paint a picture. The outline might be correct, but they did not have the _detail_ to yet see. He would show them, soon enough.

In the meantime, there were annoying little details to be taken care of. Standards to be maintained. Lines to be observed. Jassen looked away from his telescopic lens, down at his phone.

The child was safe with a man whose record and codename was known to Jassen, though his face was not. Her whereabouts was cleverly hidden and although Jassen could find her if he so desired, it was not his objective, not for now.

Madeline Hawke, however. She was a thread that _could_ be snapped eventually. Cauterised. A messy, rotting link. Yes, she could be taken care of when he had some free time. He would enjoy that.

Jassen settled back against the wall, cramped and uncomfortable, but benign pain meant nothing. He regretted the lost opportunity to watch Cullen sleep from such an intimate vantage point. A mistake not to have killed the old man. Next time, he would be more careful. Next time, he would not permit mercy or fear of raising alarm to cloud his judgement. More than once, now, he'd done that. It was a mistake to trust, to hesitate. Death was always so much simpler. Death was pure.

Too much was at stake, too much at risk. Another could not take his place. He would not allow that, no matter the cost.

Jassen took a deep breath, settling in properly for the night. Returning his attention to the tall, secure building, he played music softly in the background, Cullen Rutherford's voice soothing the ache in his bones and replacing it with an all too familiar one. It was a YouTube clip, the new song, the one he’d sung for everyone, but most of all for Dorian. Jassen didn’t know the words yet, but he would soon.

 _Soon_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologise if this felt like kind of a... nothing chapter? It felt that way to me. I promise, BIG STUFF going down now. There's a small time jump, we're gonna see some truly epic stuff and actual plot will come together, I assure you. Also, poor Varric, his scene got delayed yet again but this chapter was technically extremely difficult and I just didn't have room.  
> Fingers crossed the update will be on or before this Sunday as I will be having more time at the weekend to work on this. Things are a bit rough here for me right now and it's fully fucking with my 4k a day schedule.  
> Love you all, feedback is my lifeblood, hope you're (still?) enjoying!  
> NEXT CHAPTER!  
> Hope y'all ready to get Christmassy., But like... more Die Hard than Polar Express.  
> Die Hard but with the best romance EVER.  
> 💜💜💜


	28. It Must Be Written That The Moon Elbowed The Stars And Said Let's Do Our Best (To Make It Hard For Them)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST inside the weekend, there. Apologies for the things I keep promising in my end notes that then NEVER HAPPEN IN THE ACTUAL CHAPTER, I really am so optimistic when I write those! Hope you enjoy, will save the majority of the notes for the end.  
> And oh yeah, topdrop! Have some topdrop for sure.  
> 💜💜💜

Dorian's rings glittered in the gentle, ambient glow and his muscles _ached_ because it had to have been hours, long hours now that they'd been at this together, this _game_ , this thing of teasing and _knowing_ and loving, pushing towards a destination hard won and rarely found.

Game of _so good, aren't you_ and _hold it for me, darling_.

Perfect, maddening game that was slowly driving Dorian as wild as Cullen, even though Cullen was the one _all tied down_

The silk scarves around Cullen's wrists shone, ensnaring him and restraining him without leaving a mark beyond a faint ring of red that would fade hours after.

It had been _hours_ of softly playing music - the lyric-less kind, the _background_ kind - curtains drawn, no way to tell the time, no way to know beyond the ache in the base of his cock and in the way Cullen was _keening_ , begging, pleading so sweetly, so beautifully and how Dorian was steadily reaching the point where he couldn't hold himself at bay any longer.

The massive bed, custom made for several reasons, held Cullen's wrists at the perfect height, silk and satin around his skin, trapping him there and Dorian had all the room in the world to do whatever he liked to his love, to the man he straddled.

Silk wrapped around his eyes, ankles tied with a decent amount of slack, permitting some movement, but not much. The sheets were a striped blend of Egyptian cotton and satin and their room, it smelled of apples and cinnamon, of pie crust and vanilla because Christmas season had Cullen cooking near constantly, always making some new delight, some new _creation_ for Dorian to try, fork held out, smiles and satisfaction at the noises he could drag from Dorian, in the kitchen or _otherwise_.

Dorian bent low, gifting Cullen a sucking, wet kiss to the side of his throat before trailing his lips up and _up_ , to the shell of his ear…

And Cullen's senses had to be on overload, they simply _had_ to because it had been hours and hours and Dorian had only let him come _once_ , just once at the very start. At his ear, he whispered how _good_ Cullen was being and the words caused a ripple effect throughout Cullen's body, because those senses were all he had, blindfolded and restrained.

 _Touch_ , magnified and dominant, as the warm metal underside of Dorian's rings brushed over Cullen's skin, touched everywhere and anywhere. Cullen was a vast expanse to be explored and Dorian loved every inch of that man beneath him. As fingertips trailed lightly, barely even _touching_ except to leave a wake of prickling flesh, fingers hovering millimetres above, trading a rough, pounding, _grind_ for phantom touches, for ghost kisses and such sheer, raw sensitivity. Dorian believed himself to be conducting an orchestra, the merest of movements eliciting the most beautiful of sounds.

 _Taste_ , when Dorian parted Cullen's lips with his thumb, was surely overflowing with _salt;_ with that heady mixture of earthy sweat and opalescent tang from where Dorian had pushed his fingertips through Cullen's spend, spattered across his belly, had made a gorgeous mess before he tasted it, before he'd _kissed_ it all into Cullen's mouth and earned a gut-punched groan that had his own cock twitching and throbbing.

And _sound_ , when sight was denied, became amplified, became Cullen's North and South, Dorian knew. Each breath, each tiny, thick-throated swallow, each purr of approval and high, desperate _whine_ told a story aloud, made tales of the swirling, fucking _magical_ madness within their bodies, within aching muscles and pounding, strong hearts.

And Dorian loved the picture it all painted, loved to see Cullen shiver at the merest of touches, respond to a kiss so light it was barely more than a _brush_ of lips, begging for the taste of Dorian's skin. He licked his own hand then, metallic smack of his rings and all that messy, opaline _love_ he'd been playing with, and he reached down between Cullen's legs, palm _gliding_.

Cullen's whole body arched; head falling back, spine in a bow, beautiful, strawberry red lips parting ahead of the pure, delicious cry that tore out of him because it had been a while since Dorian had done that, touched his cock. Cullen's thick, huge, _needy_ cock with a vibrantly pink head, engorged and dribbling precome enough that Dorian had not _needed_ to taste his own hand, but there was something wickedly lovely about spit and come, about the way the light caught all his _glittering_ rings as his hand moved gently, teasingly over that aching, rock hard length.

Restrained by silks, Cullen started babbling; muted, breathless words that made no sense but to beg, to plead. There was no real _means_ to the end of his words. Cullen loved to beg, he adored the act of _pleading,_ didn't much care what it actually brought about, he just loved being helpless. Addicted to the _safety_ brought about by being so _helplessly_ loved.

Dorian smiled down at him, tip of his index making light circles around the head as he straddled Cullen's middle, as he dragged the rough pad of his thumb over Cullen's nipple, playing with the tiny metal nub there, embedded in the sensitive flesh. He lightly swept his fingers over the pierced nipple, vibrations of metal on metal _doing things_ to Cullen, whose senses were surely running wild, were overwhelmed and it had been…

Hours.

It had been _hours_ now. Time carved out, set aside. No phones, no work, no world beyond the next breath, beyond the space they had created and filled.

An emergency would bring Fenris to their door and nothing less.

This was their time and it might have been days, Dorian couldn't really tell anymore but he knew he couldn't go much longer without Cullen _inside_ him. Could not last another hour without lowering himself, inch by aching inch onto the cock he was teasing, playing with, _loving_.

'You've been so good,' he told Cullen again in a voice that resonated like rough spun velvet. 'Haven't you?'

Cullen's back lowered to the bed once more, hot, damp skin upon precious blend of fabric. 'Wanna be good for you,' he half slurred and Dorian drank in every part of his voice, slightly wrecked, slightly _worn_ because he loved him to _sing_ in those earlier hours, loved nothing more than when Cullen would sing and try not to let it wobble as Dorian took his cock between his lips, tongue sliding against the underside, against that vein there. Cullen's voice would inevitably crack slightly when Dorian swallowed his thick, aching cock down, head nudging past the back of his throat, that _always_ had Cullen faltering, his song cracking apart, but no less beautiful, merely transformed into something entirely _else_.

Song sang for Dorian while enraptured, an aria of sensation and pleasure and it drove Dorian _crazy_ , ruined him for anyone else, ever again, that Cullen would sing whenever he asked, would try to keep going and remember his own words when Dorian made him come, sucked an orgasm out of him and drank it down. Cullen would do _anything_ Dorian asked and Dorian would give him the world on a platter in return.

That had been _hours_ ago and Dorian's patience was impressive, but it had limits, it had _breaking points_.

'You are,' he purred, tip of his tongue flicking over Cullen's recently pierced nipple, palm wrapping around the base of his cock and holding, _squeezing_ because he could not allow Cullen to come, not yet. 'You're perfect,' he intoned, voice low and steady; Cullen's lighthouse when blindfolded, his compass, his guide. 'You're everything good in the world. My love, my darling, just _looking_ at you… it's too much.'

'Please, please, please,' Cullen sobbed beautifully, silk over his eyes damp at the sides. ' _Please_ , I'll do anything.'

Dorian sucked his nipple harder, tongue playing and teeth _lightly_ scraping over the nub, hand tightening around that thick, huge cock when it jumped, eager and desperate. 'Tell me what you want.'

'You, _you_ , please, Dorian—please, I— _oh God_ , please!'

'Are you asking,' Dorian breathed, blowing over the wet, tormented nipple before his free hand reached up, thumb and fingers opposing wide to gently cup the lower part of Cullen's throat. 'To be inside me?'

And even though he was _stopping_ Cullen from coming by holding him, by making a forbidding circle at the base of his cock - as surely as he made one at the base of his _throat -_ he couldn't help but dip his thumb lower, rebellious digit that played with those wiry, golden curls, rubbing over the skin between swollen, high-hitched balls and desperate, aching cock.

The sound Cullen made was unintelligible, no longer using his _words_ , just his vocals. It was all sugar-sweet gasps and lemony sharp little things that broke off and became stuck in his throat, nasal pleas and drawn our cries and sometimes, only when he was on the very crumbling edge of an exhale, Dorian could hear his own name, said like a prayer, like a word that would invoke magic. Reverent and loving and _trusting_ , Cullen panted and he writhed, hips bucking only very slightly because it had been so _long_ since they'd started and he knew not to move without being told, but he was _desperate_ and Dorian was too. Desperate and dizzy, mouth dry, skin tight.

Lust, when bred by love, could be so _contagious._

'You want me, Cullen?'

The words worked like magic, like pulling _strings_ around Cullen's naval, his lower body lifting, head falling back again, no reply leaving his lips, breath short and hard, no finesse for speaking.

'You want me wrapped around you, sucking you deep inside?'

Cullen sobbed at that, the sound punctuated by hyperventilation as his senses began to collide, began to _brim_ and spill over because for _hours_ now, Dorian had been playing with him, playing this game, this…

'I want you to drop,' Dorian whispered, sitting up straight and sliding back so that he could feel the tip of Cullen's cock against his back, wet and leaking. 'I want to _make_ you drop into that space when you come.'

The noises were a near constant stream now, a moan stretched soft and wide, never breaking even on the inhale. Cullen was _singing_ almost; melody of sensation, of _touch_ and _taste_ , of synaesthesia behind silk and Dorian was _ruined, ruined_ , for all time, but not before he ruined his boyfriend, in the best way possible.

And the bed was strong and the silk did not stretch when Cullen pulled on it, when he began to _beg_ and _plead_ with his body, mouth occupied with the sounds he was making. As Dorian pushed up high, thighs shaking as he lifted himself and aligned the head of Cullen's wet, weeping cock to his eager, needy hole, Cullen's spit having dried a while ago, but Dorian didn't mind, didn't need anything else. He wanted to _feel_ every single part of it, nothing between them, nothing but Cullen's endless precome, velvety skin and hard flesh deep inside that most precious _grip_.

'And you will,' he panted, _lowering_ himself, measured and careful because Cullen's tongue was a clever, gorgeous thing but it hadn't stretched him quite the way his fingers would have, so he was _slow_ , he was _careful_ when he pushed down onto Cullen then. 'You're going to drop so hard for me, aren't you?'

Cullen's head was back all the way, neck bared, panting Dorian's name in between the slurred litany of vowels and the _'oh God'_ s and the ' _more'_ s.

'Yes,' Dorian answered for him, eyes rolling a bit when he pushed down _more_ , an inch of hot, insistent dick inside him, _stretching_ him wide in a beautiful, painful burn that was almost as addictive as seeing Cullen pull on the silk of his restraints, almost as fucking _incredible_ as the symphony Cullen was singlehandedly gifting Dorian. 'You will, because you're _mine.'_

_'Yes, yes!'_

Another inch, _wider_ now, thicker, deeper.

'And I want you to l-lose your mind.'

Cullen sobbed, he cried, he whined and he _san_ g as Dorian slowly, gradually bottomed out, nothing but the wetness from Cullen's aching cockhead to make it glide, the skin catching and gripping, each tiny sensation sending a ripple of _pleasurepainperfection_ up Dorian's spine, resonating in his lizard brain, making his jaw go lax, his eyes screw tight and his heart…

His poor fucking heart.

And Cullen's skin was _glistening_ with sweat, beading like dew drops on his pectorals, running sideways down his ribcage as it heaved and depressed, each breath moving his body, dragging from his wrecked, fucked out throat and _Christ_ , but Dorian should have _medals_ for not coming untouched, for not giving into this _hours_ ago, when it had started.

When Dorian had got home from _Artea's_ to find Cullen waiting for him, time apart dug deep into the love between them, his boyfriend needy and desperate. When Cullen had dropped to his _knees_ and pressed his fingers into Dorian’s hips, using him to shut the door behind him, when he'd fumbled with the buttons of his jeans to get them _down,_ and Dorian's middle was cold because December had a crisp, icy bite in the air and his jumper had become rucked at various points on the way home. When Cullen's warm, almost scalding hot mouth found Dorian's rapidly hardening cock and _sucked_ and _swallowed_ and _drank him down_ …

That's when it had all started.

Hours ago.

Dorian let out a tight, high kind of _whine_ when he bottomed out and that sound stretched into a sigh, into a shaky, shuddering thing because Cullen's full, whole length was inside him now. Cullen was inside him and it _hurt_ like it was meant to, it _ached_ in the best way and dear God, but he could feel Cullen in his stomach, in his _throat_.

Cullen, who was openly crying now, whose breathy, broken gasps filled the air, bittersweet and _beautiful,_ laying there, blind and bound by the silky scarves Dorian had chosen one by one.

Their room was an oasis of favoured colours, of lights they loved, of jointly selected aesthetics and Cullen's words dancing in golden, glittering ink on the walls, bordering each one of Dorian's framed photographs. Their room was _theirs_ , dripping in personality and love and beauty, even in the messy parts.

There was beauty in imperfection, in the quirks and hollows, the dips and the cracks.

Dorian breathed deep, struggling not to moan like a whore when Cullen's hips rolled a tiny amount, involuntary response to the way Dorian's fingernails dragged down the skin of his wet, sticky abdomen and then _up_ again, bracing on Cullen's shoulders as he leaned _forward_.

Cullen was _restrained_ , Cullen was _blind_ , but Cullen could still drive him right to the _edge_ of the fucking world.

'You want to fuck me, darling?' Dorian said in a messy exhale, control evading him as primal desire began to _bleed_ , intoxicating him, draining all his willpower. 'Wanna feel me come around your big cock?'

Oh, what a pretty noise _that_ was. Dorian wanted more of it.

'Make me _cry_ out your name.'

Shallow and slow, he moved up and down.

'Fuck me so deep, _so hard_ …'

Cullen's cock was a thing of pure perfection, just the right side of _too big_ , _too much, too deep_. Dorian wanted to be full of him, filled to the brim and it was almost there, but now he needed more, greedy man that he was.

Now, he wanted Cullen to fuck an orgasm out of him, to shatter all that tightly wound _tension_ and _control._

They were non-stop, the noises Cullen made. He couldn't be quiet, could hardly _ever_ contain his lovesong; that beautiful, babbling language that spoke no words, only _sounds_ , only movement, only sin-soaked desire in every gasp, moan or crackling, drawn out _groan_ from his fucked out throat that had taken Dorian deep all those _hours_ before.

Dorian bent lower and the way his fingers dug into Cullen's shoulders, there would be _bruises_ later, finger paintings of _need,_ each one a necessity because Dorian had to _hold on_ now. Cullen's hips were rolling, they were gearing up to flat out _piston_ and despite being tied down, despite the silk burn he would have later from straining unsuccessfully against those scarves Dorian had carefully chosen, he was fucking Dorian, _proper_.

And the bed didn't shake, was built into the _wall_ , but the mattress and the springs were made to absorb shock and so when Cullen fucked into Dorian with strong, sweat slick thighs and hips, cock dragging with every thrust because Dorian probably _should_ have used lube but _oh well_ _…_

When Cullen fucked up into Dorian's tight, hot, _desperate_ flesh, all the way into his body, he bottomed out with each movement and every time, he knocked Dorian higher and _higher_ , so, you see, the pretty picture of finger bruises and nail indents, they were _necessary_.

Cullen was still so strong, even in submission. Blindfolded and helpless, he could still knock the air from Dorian's lungs and it wasn't by design, it was just _who he was_ when he fucked, because he was at that point now - hours in the making - where he was lost to the most basic of need; powerful, primal urge.

Where he only wanted to _service_ , to fuck Dorian, to flood him and fill him and _love_ him in the way bodies liked best.

And Dorian was _lost_ to it.

Lost to the rhythm.

Lost to the _feel_ of Cullen moving, pounding, slamming into him, deeper and harder every time as the energy and need between them did not diminish, only grew, expanded, readying to _explode_.

And next time, _oh next time_ , he planned to do this the other way around, Cullen fucking him from the top, still blindfolded, still _restrained,_ but Dorian wanted him face down and he wanted to be _under_ him.

It came slowly; heavy, groaning thing, wrenching every droplet of pleasure from his bones to combine, to pool it all together like a shimmering, iridescent puddle of kerosene and then _set fire_ to it. It _cranked_ and it _cramped_ , coiling tight, drawing his lungs down into his knees, his cock rubbing helplessly against Cullen's stomach, wet with sweat and pearly white come from _earlier_ , from _before_ when Dorian had been the _pleasuremancer_ , master and commander of each and every sensation…

Now lost to the _thud-slap, thud-slap_ _…_

To every sound punched out of his lungs and sucked from Cullen's…

Lost to the _scent_ of them both, to the pretty, plush offering beneath him who was pounding the life right out of him, despite being tied down by the best silk scarves money could buy.

He was just as helpless as Cullen now.

And because it had been hours since they'd kissed, torturous avoidance of that most prized point of contact, when he crushed their mouths together - all teeth and tongues and sweet, swollen lips - Cullen made another noise, a _new_ noise that was half scream, half pleasure-wrecked _song_.

Sound that lanced Dorian's heart and his cock, seized them as _one_ and wrenched, everything going _tight_ , painfully, impossibly _rigid_ , as if possessed by Cullen's voice as he licked deeper into his mouth, so deep he never wanted to resurface, deep enough to find the _source_ of his magic, his voice that drove Dorian to distraction.

And he _clung_ to Cullen as the man beneath him slammed his hips, smashed himself into Dorian's body and it _hit_ him like a velvet covered mallet, like a rogue wave in the face of a careless surfer.

It took him and it _strangled_ him with love, with bliss, with red hot rapture and every other thing that the best, most beautiful sensation could elicit as his cock spurted and jerked, trapped between their bodies, as he _came_ and _came_ , eyes rolling all the way back, moaning into Cullen's mouth, fingers bruising, breath shared back and forth.

And Cullen fucked him all the way through it, magnified each _ounce_ of pleasure, the _too much_ that Dorian was addicted to. He didn't orgasm until Dorian dragged their lips apart and exhaled the words, 'Come for me.'

_Come for me._

Bound and blind, beautiful and just _begging_ for it, Cullen exploded, cock crushing _deep_ , deep, deep into Dorian and the _sounds_ he made, Dorian drank them from his throat, mouths wide as they moved against one another, tongues duelling and _curling_ and Cullen was screaming really, but Dorian drank it like cream, like silk flooding into him.

He took those noises and he took _Cullen_ as deep as he could, all that liquid love fucked into him, marking him, staining him like wet paint thrown over a blank canvas, except this was art _inside_ and Dorian wished he could wear a plug, keep it inside him for as long as possible, needed it, wanted it, _always_.

Next time, next time, _next time._

Cullen's come was hot like his mouth had been hours before, and wet like his blindfold when Dorian peeled it away with trembling fingers, untied clever knots and freed his silk-burnt wrists, licking over the skin there because there was something inside him that _demanded_ he do it, lick those precious wounds, make them just a bit more _red_ as the air hit his saliva, as it cooled and soothed, confusing and addictive.

He untied Cullen and eased off of his softening cock, messy and wet and lukewarm as the cool atmosphere of the room met with it. Cullen's eyes stayed shut, tear stained and blissed out, brow wiped clean of stress, of anything beyond that sheer, sacrosanct _safety_ that was their love, that was that _space_ he'd sunk into.

Dorian kissed his mouth, moved his lips lightly over Cullen's, slightly unresponsive and sluggish beneath him. Dorian placed his wrists up by his head on the pillows and he pulled the covers up from the floor, ignoring the burn in his muscles, the way his thighs quivered and his abdomen _ached_ just to move.

He dropped feather light kisses to Cullen's cheeks, tongue sweeping across salty trails left by tears as Cullen drifted, lost in that velvety dark place he'd only described feeling a handful of times.

Dorian's body tingled all over, lightness and pleasure floating through him still as he leaned on his elbow, laying on his side, watching Cullen, idly playing with his golden curls plastered to his forehead, simply _there_ for when he would return, open his eyes, look over and smile that special, sleepy _smile_.

And _that_ _…_

That would make the time spent in their room, their home, their _loft_ in London, all those _hours_ … completely fucking worth it.

*

Dorian watched him dress the next morning, watched him pull down a stupidly sexy Italian shirt over his shoulders, button up the wrists, red marks faded like the silk had promised.

It was a familiar process and Dorian liked to watch him, to see him dress for the day, whatever lay ahead. Dorian himself sat in their bed, tea in both hands to stave away the early morning chill, content to bask in the beauty that was his boyfriend going from nakedly sleepy to stylishly alert.

'I feel your eyes on me,' Cullen laughed, looking up at Dorian through his lashes and that right there, the light, the way he was half teasing, pretty smile, all _knowing,_ it made Dorian warmer than the covers, the tea. 'Am I really so interesting?'

Dorian just shrugged, mysterious little grin playing about his lips as he drank his perfectly made tea.

'Maybe you look especially devastating today, that's all.'

Cullen rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, finishing up with a pair of cufflinks that Dorian had given him a while ago. 'Who _says_ things like that, eh?'

'Cullen Rutherford does,' Dorian informed him.

'Yeah, he does tend to come out with some crazy shit, that guy,' Cullen chuckled, pulling on a navy blazer that was cut to absolute perfection, fit him like a second skin. 'What a loser.'

'He's not so bad.'

'No? I hear he's completely over the top, can't control himself around his boyfriend, makes these massive, ridiculous overblown gestures.' Cullen made a face. 'Bleugh.'

'Oh, yeah, overblown gestures are the _worst_. I can't stand people with big personalities, living big lives.'

'Total wanker.'

'Pretty hot, though.'

'Is he? I feel like he's just big and blond.'

Dorian laughed, finishing his tea. 'That's it, can't take anymore. Come here immediately and let me crease up that shirt, come on!' He crawled across the bed, over soft, still warm covers. Cullen had been up for hours; had been to the gym, done a full workout, showered, made breakfast which awaited them on the table, all before he'd come to get dressed in front of his boyfriend.

Dorian had been very busy sleeping through all of that but now he was awake, fully awake and so was his body, his inner stirrings, his _love_ for the man who protested amid beautiful laughter that no, no, _no, he couldn't_ possibly mess up the shirt.

'Breakfast will get cold,' he warned Dorian, kissing him anyway, strong arms wrapping around his bare back and he let out a low rumble of approval as he felt Dorian, hands roaming, the kiss deepening as he tilted his head, wrapping them together tighter.

'We have— _mmmm_ —a microwave,' Dorian gasped lightly, tugging on his hair because he didn't fight fair and Cullen _loved_ it when he was bratty first thing. 'I need you, need you to take care of me. What will I do without you?'

He felt Cullen smile, but he didn't pull away, if anything he kissed him harder, faster, urgency underlining things now and Dorian, playing dirty, _un-tucked_ that beautiful silk shirt, exposing his naval, hard planes of muscle and supple, hot skin. Cullen was like a _furnace_ in winter and Dorian, who'd never really _liked_ the cold, was drawn to him like the man was a walking hot water bottle. He pushed his hands slowly, purposefully up under the expensive material, touching, brushing, _playing_ and carefully driving Cullen to the edge of his control.

Cullen tended to hand over control to Dorian. He liked Dorian to be in charge most of the time, in a variety of ways. It was always subtle, little indications of what each of them were in the mood for. In the mornings, Cullen was much more relaxed than he was at night, after a long day of people pulling on his apron strings, of people trying to get a piece of him. Of sharing himself and wearing that _smile_ like armour. Mornings found him rested and balanced, not so much need for Dorian to exert control or rules like last night.

He made a shattered noise in the very base of his throat when Dorian found his nipple, pulled on the tiny metal nub there, sucked Cullen's bottom lip into his mouth and lovingly sank his teeth into it. Cullen's mouth was open, panting softly, sound and vocals bleeding into all of it and Dorian felt the exact moment his determination simply _broke_.

Dorian was pushed backwards, pulled immediately _down_ beneath Cullen as those strong arms caged him in and the kiss became something a touch _feral_ , demanding and possessive. Dorian was helpfully naked and Cullen was _not_ , the reversal always quite breath-taking and never quite the _same_ from one occasion to the next.

'You're gonna make me late,' Cullen told him, pushing the waistline of his gorgeous, custom trousers _down_ , freeing himself with graceless movements born of fraught, desperate desires.

'You're _always_ late,' Dorian reminded him, finally getting his hands on that beautiful cock, grinding the heel of his palm down it the way he knew felt _so good_. 'No one cares.'

'Baby,' Cullen scolded, even as his hips rolled and his eyes fluttered, Dorian licking a wet, hot stripe up his neck, making the kind of mess he couldn't get enough of. 'I care.'

'Do you really though?' Dorian whispered against his jaw, hands reaching down to wrap about them _both_ , holding them against one another as Cullen made a fairly ruinous sound, wrecked and happily tortured, slowly starting to rub against Dorian's cock then and the whole thing was obscene, really.

The way Dorian wrapped his legs around Cullen, interlocking his ankles, using that to _grind_ and _slide_ and roll his whole body up against Cullen like an animal caught in a rut. The way Cullen let slip a velvety _growl_ and began sucking a deep, dark bruise against his favourite side of Dorian's neck, fucking harder against the man beneath him, caging him in and bracing himself on elbows, silk shirt becoming terribly _creased_ , awfully _ruined_.

The way Dorian was just constantly spewing encouraging filth, that was most definitely obscene.

'Yes, _yes,_ that's it, darling, rub yourself on me, feel my cock on yours, it's _so_ fucking hard, that's what you do to me! Ugh, yes, do it, harder, grind me through the mattress, I wanna feel every inch of it, oh, _oh_ , yes, there, so good, you're so good, so _hot_ , fuck! Harder, faster, make me come, want to mess you up, want you all covered in us, bite me, _bite_ me, please, _please_ , let me feel you all day when you're— _ughhhh,_ when you're away. Need it, need you, fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck_!'

Cullen's mouth left his neck with a loud, wet _pop_ , only to be replaced a moment later with pretty pinpricks of pain and pressure and the feel of his fingers in Dorian's hair, pulling his head to the side to further expose his neck as he _bit_ and marked and that… _that_ was all it took.

Dorian's back arched, pushing him up against Cullen all the more, hands moving up and down, coming _hard_ , seeing stars, heart pounding out a rhythm that rocked pleasure through him, wave after wave.

He could feel Cullen's thick, warm spurts joining his own as his pleasure ebbed, felt teeth lock harder, dig deeper and Cullen's whole body went rigid, tell-tale signal as if Dorian couldn't _feel_ it, couldn't _hear_ that perfectly whorish, heavenly sound coming up from Cullen's throat, reverberating against Dorian's chest.

Their movements slowed, all manner of slick mess simply _everywhere_ south of the border. Dorian couldn't help but rub it over Cullen's cock head, revelling in the way it made his muscles jump and his boyfriend _laugh_ , breathless and sated.

''S too much,' he complained, reaching down to hold Dorian's wrists, stop his playful ministrations over sensitive flesh. 'You're always so _bad_ in the mornings.'

'And you're always so _good_ in the evenings.'

Cullen kissed him again, deep and soft and _unhurried,_ each breath a sigh, an exhale of contentment, despite the world waiting for them outside.

'I love you,' he told Cullen, stroking his hair, gazing up at him as the superstar drew back. 'I am _so,_ so in love with you.'

And Cullen smiled his truest smile, the one he reserved only for those he loved and said, 'I promise, I love you _more._ '

*

Like most mornings, Fenris joined them for breakfast. Cullen never really went anywhere without him, especially not since the _event_ nearly four months ago. Dorian was drying his hair, dressing gown on, as he emerged from the bathroom to find the two of them sat at the sturdy, gorgeous oak table, big enough to seat twelve. Dorian really loved that table, especially because he'd gotten such a great deal, buying it second hand and restoring it himself. Silk scarves were one thing, but he still loved a bargain.

'Morning,' he greeted, eyeing the table, _thrilled_ to see that Cullen had made those gorgeous mini _frittatas_ again with asparagus, three cheeses and sun ripened tomatoes. A stack of French toast, waffles and fresh fruit were also sitting there temptingly amid an actual _teapot_ with real tea in it and a jug of fresh orange juice. 'Looks gorgeous, darling.'

'And the breakfast,' Fenris purred, leaning back with a wink and Dorian laughed, dropping down into his favourite chair.

'Changed your shirt, did you?' he asked Cullen innocently, pouring himself a tea, eyeing everything on the table with undeniable eagerness.

Cullen smirked. 'Hmm, the other had a stain.'

Fenris snorted, not commenting as Dorian smiled brightly and asked, 'What's on the agenda today?'

'Meetings,' Cullen sighed. 'Another interview and then the _big_ meeting.'

'It's today?'

'Yup,' Cullen said, shooting him a playfully accusatory glare. 'Hence why I wanted to look _especially_ professional.'

'Are we finalising today, then?'

Fenris inclined his head. 'Possibly. These things tend to drag on.'

'Lee seems to think it'll be a done deal by the weekend.'

'That's exciting,' Dorian said, sliding a perfectly round, golden frittata onto his plate, dusting it with crumbled mozzarella from a tiny bowl. Jesus, but Cullen really was determined to spoil him. ‘Shall I join you?’

'Would that be OK? Only if you're not too busy.'

'No, they won't need me until this afternoon. It's fine.'

'You sure?'

'Darling,' Dorian intoned soothingly. 'I _want_ to be there.'

'Personally, I would much rather be in your shop, drinking delightfully priced artisan teas made by Cullen's sister whose claims of being a _tea sommelier_ are shaky at best,’ Fenris told him. 'These meetings drain my soul.'

 _Artea's_ was Dorian's place, his little dream recently become a reality after mortgaging his loft for the first time. He'd leased a tiny shop with a darling front window; the place had been a quaint, classy bakery before Dorian got his glittery, rainbow-making queer hands all over it, turning it into the world's gayest tea shop that also showcased local art projects from time to time.

Rosalie worked there on and off (though lately more _on_ than _off_ ), Sera worked there full time, took the whole thing very seriously and Lana helped out on occasion, still preferring to earn money from jobs where she could clock in and out without putting a single iota of effort into it.

It was hard work, but Dorian loved it and they hadn't dipped _too_ low under the threshold of survivable income just yet. It probably helped that _celebrities_ sometimes hung out there. Sometimes even made out with the guy who owned it.

'We can swing by on the way, get you a spicy pumpkin tea?' he offered Fenris.

'I am a sucker for pumpkin drinks, can't deny.'

'Sure I can wrangle you one,' Dorian assured him. 'Might know the owner.'

'Is he hot?' Cullen asked, not missing a beat, slanting a brow as he reached for his tea.

'Very. Tanned, mysterious, _excellent_ facial hair.'

'Ooh, can I meet him?'

'Guys,' Fenris sighed. 'Not _now_.'

'I mean, I _could_ introduce you,' Dorian said, completely ignoring Fenris. 'He's kind of reclusive though. Hard to set up a meeting.'

'Oh, well,' Cullen said, frowning pensively. 'Maybe tell him I'm famous?'

'Guys, please.'

'I don't know if that will sway him. He's not really very impressed with things like that.'

'Hmmm, what _would_ impress him?'

'Literally begging, here.'

'You'd probably have to sing for him,' Dorian said, caught up in the _stare_ between them both. 'In private.'

'I could do that.'

'You could?'

'For a man like that, I could do anything.'

'Right,' Fenris sighed. 'I'm waiting outside. If you get attacked by assassins while you're fucking, don't blame me.'

*

The sign above the door was made from muted rainbow coloured metal, with a glittering, jewel-like apostrophe set against an aged dark wood backing and the handwriting was Cullen's, though no one but Dorian knew that. He was the one who'd come up with the name, after all and Dorian had liked the way it looked on paper so much, couldn't part with the memory of the day they'd discussed it, Dorian's _little idea_.

Inside, the tables were full and Rosalie was leaning across the glass countertop, patently flirting with a couple who were more than a bit lovestruck. Dorian couldn't blame them, she looked gorgeous as always. Hair piled up in messy, natural curls, nose piercing catching the gleaming spotlights above. She wore long grey feather earrings and a white vest under her black apron. Beside her, Sera was steaming the glass teapots, doing a dozen things at once but when she caught sight of Dorian, she waved energetically and nudged Rosalie hard.

' _Oww_! Oh, hi guys!'

'Morning girls,' he greeted, leaning across the counter to kiss them both. His tiny shop, _cafe_ really, smelled strangely divine as always, too many flavours in steam; lavender, orange, cinnamon, nettles, strawberry to name a few and his personal favourite, oolong and honey. 'How's it been today?'

Rosalie beamed bright and beautiful, tucking a few stray curls behind her ears, tattoos fully on show. 'Perfect, no problems at all.'

'Yeah,' Sera huffed, shooting Rosalie a doubtful look. She was wearing a violently cheery red t-shirt with purple lipstick and her hair was shorter, choppier, more mental and full of ceramic, glittery bees. 'No stress at all if you're flirting with everything that walks. Bisexuals, seriously.'

Cullen leaned across to kiss his sister and Sera. 'Biphobia is so _sour_ ,' he told Sera with a cheeky grin. 'Where's your fresh at- _tea-tude?'_

'Dor,' Sera whined. 'He's making tea puns again!'

'He's a handful,' Dorian agreed. 'And I'm sorry we can't stop, just need to grab a few drinks and check that it's all still on for this afternoon?'

'Far as I know,' Sera said with a shrug. 'They didn't cancel.'

Rosalie served the couple their teas with deliciously rough-cut flapjacks to go (Cullen's own recipe) and laughed sweetly when they offered her their number. 'I'm so touched,' she said with that _weirdly_ familiar smile. 'But I try not to come between vows _and_ rings. Bindings of law can be so constrictive, even with the purest, most passionate love.'

'Yeah,' Sera agreed somewhat brusquely, over Rosalie's shoulder. 'That and you're not her type, mate. Just your fit wife.'

Far from being offended, the couple laughed and dropped a note in the tip jar, along with their number written on a small slip of paper. Sera's attitude was a well-known draw for the shop; people tended to love her rudeness and her blunt ways. Found it _authentic_.

'Fenris and Lee in the car?' Rosalie asked, peering out of the window as the couple left. She let a fair bit of her exaggerated persona drop, relaxing. 'Ah, just Fen.'

'Yeah, one spicy pumpkin for him, please. We're meeting Lee and Josie there, so a tea for them too, their usuals,' Cullen said. 'Ooh, look at this new one! Baby, did you invent this?'

People at the tables were _pretending_ not to look, pretending they were too cool to care that _Cullen Rutherford_ was less than six feet away, getting excited about a new item on Dorian's rainbow chalkboard menu above various hand-drawn art from locals of every queer romance they shipped and adored.

He peered at the menu, written in Rosalie's beautifully cursive handwriting. 'No, darling, I didn't invent _Birthday Cake Tea._ It's existed for a while.'

'It really has,' Rosalie informed her brother with a snort. 'Many years now, the cake tea has notes of vanilla and almond, delicate undertones of sweet Sri Lankan black and rooibos. We added a few special touches to it, though, didn't we Sera?'

Sera wrinkled her nose, cracking a grin. ' _You_ were messin' around with it this morning yeah. I watched to make sure you didn't nick any.'

'Oh, yeah, _definitely_ keep an eye on this one,' Cullen agreed. 'She's trouble.'

'How dare you?' Rosalie gasped, paying no mind whatsoever to the people queueing out the door. 'I am an upstanding citizen. I pay taxes even.'

'Sometimes,' Sera prompted.

'Yes, sometimes. It's all very confusing.' She looked around her brother and smiled disarmingly at the next person waiting, pressing her hands together, _namaste_ style. 'Good morning, what do you feel like trying today?'

Sera had already made their teas, put them in the _to go_ cups. Cullen moved aside so the customers could decide on what tea they wanted and Dorian marvelled at his choice of staff.

'Lana will be in before me to help out,' he reminded Sera. 'And I will absolutely be here before the show.'

'We'll be fine,' she assured him, adjusting her bright, obnoxious bumblebee hairpin. 'You look well dapper today. Interview or photoshoot?'

'Just an interview,' Cullen said, taking the teas. 'Then a meeting. He's guarding my inner calm.'

'Too fucking right,' Dorian agreed fiercely. If there was one thing about their life together he didn't _especially_ like, it was anything to do with the press.

'Well, have a blast and I'll see you this afternoon.'

'Any problems, call me!'

'Course. Love ya! Make good choices!'

Outside, a couple of photographers had gathered and were busily clicking, flashing their cameras. Dorian looked down, as standard practise dictated, holding Cullen's hand as they made their way determinedly, _calmly_ to the car where Fenris was waiting for them, standing by the car parked on double yellows.

_'How's the romance? Still hot and heavy?'_

_'Cullen! Cullen, give us a smile!'_

_'Dorian, are you investing in the record label as well?'_

_'Come on boys, show us some love, just a quick kiss!'_

Dorian only relaxed once he was in the car, breathing carefully as Fenris pulled away. He was getting better at it, more _used_ to the whole paradigm as time went on and Fenris trained him to ignore them, to deny them a _useable_ picture, but it was still deeply unpleasant.

The trick was exhaling once they were gone and forgetting about them. Putting it behind him, not obsessing for the rest of the day.

'Thanks for the tea,' Fenris said. 'Rosie and Sera OK?'

'All good,' Dorian answered, rubbing Cullen's thigh. 'So, where to first?'

*

Josie was waiting outside the tall building wearing an impossibly fluffy white faux fur coat, the collar high around her ears, giving her the distinct impression of being wrapped in a benign _snow wolf_. Leliana, apparently more hardened to the cold, wore much the same sort of outfits she did most days. Sharp, gorgeous power suit complete with a scarf and gloves, generous compensation for the one degree Celsius all around them.

'You're late,' she commented smoothly.

'Ah, but we got you teas!' Dorian said, brandishing the heat-trapping recyclable material that was shaped more like a rounded tea cup than a tall, narrow coffee container.

Josie beamed. 'Orange chili?'

'Of course. Lee, here's yours.'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Yorkshire Gold?'

'Yes.'

'With milk?'

'Of course.'

'You didn't try to put anything fancy in it?'

'Dear God, woman, no I did _not_. Not after the last time.'

Leliana took the cup from Dorian with a suspicious glare that somehow still managed to come off as friendly.

'Well, all right then. Everyone ready? Any questions?'

'Are we having dinner at yours tomorrow night?' Josie asked Cullen and Dorian.

'Sure,' Dorian said, glancing at his boyfriend to confirm. Cullen was reading the prep questions Lee had passed him on her tablet, but he looked up and smiled.

'Yeah, of course. I'll make something special. Shall we invite everyone?'

'Everyone is _always_ there, anyway,' Fenris pointed out, watching the street. He favoured minimal, hidden security these days. He had eyes across the road in shops, one person inside the building and one atop the roof. Planning was everything.

'Great,' Cullen said before he looked up at Lee and added, 'Well, shall we, then?'

*

It was always a whole thing, a weird ceremony which Dorian was _starting_ to adjust to. They couldn't just _go somewhere_. Fenris needed to know about it in advance, needed to plan, to place his people, prepare. He needed to research and vet the people they would be closely interacting with.

Fenris had made Dorian's workplace safe with a great deal of money, effort and time. Though it was a small place, the glass was bulletproof, there was a tiny _panic room_ in the back and it was pretty much impenetrable when locked down for the night. Their loft had been given similar treatment. New windows, even _more_ secure door, though still with the same fingerprint sensor, the two second rule that Dorian was _well_ used to by now.

There had been other upgrades; new bathroom, new kitchen, redecorating all over and the bedroom, that had been given the _most_ attention.

Fenris had even offered to lay new floor boards, the old few rickety ones still creaking when walked on nearest the bathroom, but Dorian didn’t mind, quite liked hearing when Cullen went to pee in the middle of the night. There was beauty in imperfection, in familiar little flaws, in blemishes. Those things were what made it a _home._

It had been fun, doing all that together with the others. Rosalie and Alistair having _paint fights_ while Lana and Lee bickered cheerfully about what was better, _Buffy_ or _Supernatural._ Sera, Cullen and Fenris doing the bulk of the actual _work_ while Dorian made tea and watched his life come together with the people he loved.

They walked ahead of Fenris, always behind them, always watching their backs. Another small adjustment.

It was an adjustment for Cullen too because, according to his boyfriend, Fenris had always been protective, always been _exceptional_ at his job, but since Jassen, he'd been inherently _more so_.

Fenris seemed convinced that Jassen was biding his time and that belief didn't lessen as the days passed, as Dorian started to _forget_ when he went outside that there were dangers lurking. Four months was a long time. Six whole months now since he'd _met_ Cullen.

'This one,' Lee said, leading them into a lovely, very _welcoming_ room, a kind of office come lounge with tables, chairs but also sofas, a fireplace and a small cabinet with drinks. 'He's meeting us in here.'

'This is nice,' Dorian commented, while Fenris did a quick sweep.

Lee smirked. 'He's showboating.'

Josie took a seat at the table, phone out, scrolling efficiently. 'Natalie just showed me an offer for a shoot this week from GQ.'

'Jesus,' Cullen sighed, dropping heavily into the biggest chair. 'Another?'

Josie inclined her head. 'They _have_ offered to sweeten the deal this time.'

'Oh?' Lee sounded interested, despite herself.

'They said Dorian can take the pictures.'

'Bullshit, they didn't say that.'

'Check your mail. She sent it to you first.'

Dorian snagged two bottles of juice from the fridge, offering one to Cullen before he sat.

'Holy shit,' Lee breathed. 'They did. They're offering the photography contract to Dorian, conditional upon our acceptance.'

Dorian blinked. 'What's this now?'

'GQ wants to hire you,' Fenris informed him, peering out of the windows, down at the streets.

Dorian chuckled, opening the bottle. 'Why? I hardly know anything about photography.'

'That is _not_ true,' Cullen admonished. 'All your pictures are incredible.'

With a somewhat wry laugh, Dorian said, 'Do you not simply think they _just_ want the publicity of hiring the one who took _Those Pictures_ of you to then take _more_ pictures of you?'

'Or,' Lee reasoned. 'They really, really want Cullen to agree.'

'Which I'm not.'

'Cullen—'

'Unless it _is_ Dorian taking the pictures. I don't feel comfortable with anyone else.'

'But… I can't…'

'Of course you can,' Cullen said, sipping his juice. 'You can do anything.'

'That's—'

'He's coming,' Fenris informed them calmly.

'OK, we'll discuss it later,' Dorian said, winking at his boyfriend as Varric Tethras entered the room.

'Well, hello, hello!' the man greeted, cocky and roguish as he had been the _last_ time they'd met. Dorian couldn't help but sort of _like_ Varric, even though he was a reporter, more of a columnist, but undeniably a journalist at heart. 'You like this room?'

'It's a bit cramped, no?' Josie teased as they shook hands one by one.

'I like to think of it as _cosy.'_

Varric Tethras was a highly successful, somewhat intimidatingly intuitive man of short stature, a dwarf as he so openly introduced himself to anyone who didn't know him. Dorian, having met him twice now, was given a handshake and a wink, not much else.

'Well, you're looking great, Curly,' he said, taking the seat opposite Cullen. 'You too, Sparkler.'

Varric was also the kind of man who gave _nicknames_ to absolutely everyone he'd ever met, though his professionalism shone through in all his articles, hence why he was one of the very few who Cullen would meet with.

That did not mean Dorian _liked_ the nicknames. Barely even understood his, though Cullen's was plain for the world to see.

'Thanks,' Cullen said, polite, pretty smile in place that was not Dorian's smile, not the _real_ smile. 'You too.'

'Well, shall we get started? No need for small talk when I've got _questions,_ eh?'

Cullen's _smile_ never faltered. 'Go right ahead.'

*

They had brunch together. They discussed the interview, which had gone suspiciously well, and more pleasant things in the vein of Christmas plans. They talked about upcoming events, about _Artea_ 's. They talked and chatted, laughed and teased one another for all manner of things.

Dorian loved it. Loved being with them. Loved Josie's warmth and intuition, Lee's _wit_ , her back and forth with Fenris. He loved it all.

And they talked so much, about everything, really.

Except… a few things.

Hyper awareness of Cullen's proximity never seemed to fade, no matter how much Dorian became used to spending massive chunks of the day with him and then all night too. His body often felt _excited_ to be near him. Sometimes, he found himself unconsciously _mirroring_ Cullen's movements. It didn't make it hard to concentrate elsewhere, it was more that there was a dedicated _Cullen Centre_ in his mind and it never seemed to sleep.

He knew Cullen so well now. He knew so much. Cullen was better at talking about his past than Dorian, who struggled to put things in a context that didn't make him sound like a spoilt, uninteresting _brat_ , even though Cullen would never think that. Cullen had shared so much with Dorian. His young life, the death of his parents, living with Lee and Fenris. Raising Rosalie and Branson, who Dorian had met twice now (both times were awkward, due to the cool atmosphere between the Rutherford brothers). His lip, Fenris being taken, his drug addiction, getting clean, singing, Madeline, rehab, Aiden. So, so much of his life.

But there were _things_ he was holding back. Not outright lying, because Dorian had not pushed for an answer about the strange little comment Harry had made. _Years._ He'd said years and Dorian wanted to know what it meant, if the implication was true, but whenever he started to ask Cullen, the blond seemed to remember something he needed to be doing, something he'd forgotten.

Dorian hadn’t minded at first. He told himself he could wait forever for Cullen, it was just… strange, to have something unsaid between them.

Fenris was in a similar situation, Dorian knew. So much of his own life in the time he was taken he knew nothing about. Dorian was aware that Cullen and Lee were the guardians of this knowledge, that they and precious few others on the planet knew what Fenris had gone through.

And Dorian's curiosity about how Jassen seemed to have had a similar experience, that was sky fucking high, but if Fenris didn't want to know, then Dorian had no place in asking that either.

Their life was as close to perfect as Dorian had ever known, but there were tiny lumps beneath the mattress. Niggling things that wore on in days where Cullen had still not turned, exhaled roughly and just _said_ aloud what Dorian was starting to think.

And if it _was_ that, he mused as he poked around what remained of his seafood salad, then… well, it wasn't so bad, not really.

Natalie met them for the tail end, checking in with Lee before she went back out into the world of London, navigating all kinds of tasks that made Dorian's legs ache in phantom sympathy. So much _walking_.

'Yes, respond to that one,' Lee told her. 'We like them, they appreciate our time.'

'OK, perfect. Anything else?'

'Can you send a bottle of expensive whiskey to Varric from us?'

Natalie nodded, scrolling quickly. 'Of course. What should the note say?'

'No note. He'll know who it's from.'

'Anything else?'

'No, thank you, sweetie,' she said as Natalie got up from her seat in the quiet, sectioned off area of the cafe. 'Hold all calls but priority for the afternoon.'

'Of course,' Natalie said. 'Good luck!'

'I like her,' Dorian said, for the eight hundredth time, when she left.

'I do too. She works hard and she's ambitious.'

'So,' Josie said. 'Photo shoot? They're drawing up contracts for you and for Dorian.'

Cullen finished his water. 'Can we wait until next week?’

'Yes, but it would be good to have you on the cover _before_ Christmas. They could cover you in tinsel!’

Outside the restaurant, Josie went her own way, promising to meet them for dinner tomorrow. She had things to do, places to be, things to organise. Dorian was becoming used to it.

He joined hands with Cullen as was their way, walking hand in hand down the street.

'What do you think?' Cullen asked him as they headed back to the car. Dorian knew instantly what he was asking. Not about the shoot, not about the meeting, but a song idea he’d been playing around with for days.

'I love the idea of it, amazing song to do a cover of.'

'You think it should be acoustic?'

Dorian considered. 'Yeah, I think so. Can you play it for me tomorrow, give me an idea? I used to listen to it _so much_ when I was younger.'

Cullen chuckled. 'It's hard to imagine you listening to _t.a.T.u_.'

'I'll have you know,' Dorian said, purposefully walking into him. 'That I had a _very_ dramatic early teen phase.'

'Really? Shocking, that.'

' _Cheeky_. I would lock myself in the east wing, play that song on full volume and wait to see if anyone would come to rebuke me, which they never did because,' he snorted. ' _Wings_ tend to be pretty soundproof and most times, they weren't even in the house.'

Cullen made a non-committal sound, encouraging Dorian to speak more if he wanted, but did not press him. Dorian spoke _so_ rarely of his life before, of his childhood, his parents. It felt like a whole other life, sometimes he struggled to reconcile that it was even _his_ life.

A life of distance between he and his parents, the rare days when his Mother would make time to have a lunch with him or take him shopping somewhere. His Father, an absent silhouette of negative space. A voice he so rarely heard in good humour. House staff and tutors, _endless_ tutors. Of not really knowing what money even _was_ until it was gone.

And then two _new_ family members.

'I really don't want to see them today,' Dorian sighed, but then added, lightning fast, ' _But_ of course I'm coming with you, no matter what, so don't even try offering to let me not come.'

Cullen nudged him as they reached the car. 'Wouldn't dream of it.'

'No one wants to see the Trevelyan twins,' Lee said as she slid into the front. 'But the sooner we get them to sign, the sooner this mess can be over with and we can move on.'

Dorian couldn't _quite_ shake the feeling it wouldn't be that simple.

*

So much of Cullen's life was spent going here and there. Dorian understood now why he'd hardly ever seen him during the day, back in the early summer months when Cullen had first moved in. Sometimes they flew to places. Sometimes people came to them. If and when that happened, they always met at Lee's. Dorian and Cullen's loft was their hideout, their special place. They used the back entrance, had Maevaris _in_ on the whole thing and they kept themselves hidden away as best they could. Clever tricks here and there to deny the press what they wanted.

'They're going to attempt to antagonise us,' Fenris reminded them in the car as they crawled to a stop in the underground car park.

'You don't have to remind me,' Dorian muttered, pressing a kiss to the back of Cullen's hand.

Cullen took a steadying breath.

'Are you ready?'

Dorian stroked his face, feeling something between them _tighten_ and pull. Connection born of love, of intimacy, of _knowing_ one another, whatever it was, Dorian wound it, reeled it in so that they were all the more connected, all the closer, physically or otherwise and offered his strength to Cullen, knowing it was a two way movement.

'I'm ready.'

'Remember,' Lee warned them, touching up her already flawless makeup using her phone camera. 'Let _me_ do the talking.'

'Of course,' Dorian said, gifting Cullen with a brief (for them) kiss and then brushing his shoulders, making sure he looked perfect.

'I mean it though,' she added sternly. 'They're still sore about the album.'

Cullen snorted a laugh. 'Yeah, and about not getting hold of our assets.'

' _Henceforth_ ,' Lee pressed. 'No being drawn into angry outbursts. These are smart people, as Dorian knows.'

Cullen frowned indignantly. 'Why are you picking on _me_?'

Dorian smiled adoringly. 'Darling, last time we saw them you _did_ end up yelling.'

'They were being mean to you!' Cullen said, as if it explained absolutely everything.

'Yes, but you yelled in front of the board of directors.'

'So?'

'Ah, that right there,' Lee said as she waved a finger. 'None of that. They're conniving, money hungry _fuckers_ and we're not going to give them what they want, are we?'

Rolling his eyes, Cullen sighed. 'No, we're not.'

Excellent. Now, everyone keep nice and _calm_ , lest we undo all the good work done over the last few months, yes?'

'Yes, fine,' the blond agreed, somewhat grudgingly. 'But they're going to insult Dorian.'

Dorian chuckled. 'They can try.'

*

Evelyn Trevelyan was undeniably beautiful, sat in an expensive and ergonomically designed chair as if lazily leaning in a throne. She had an air about her of quiet, crushing dominance. Pale blonde hair, silvery grey eyes the exact same shade as Dorian's and she watched everyone, _listened_ to everyone.

Beside her, Maxwell Trevelyan was less beautiful, too hardened, too _rough_ around the edges, the kind born of anger and outright greed, but he was handsome. Dorian could see it, even objectively. They were both like custom made _dolls_. Silvery eyes, pale hair and skin, beautiful features, yet within, they were anything _but_ beautiful.

Upon entering the room, Max moved away from Evie, the pair sitting side by side and the way he'd been touching her, his _twin fucking sister_ , was never quite _right._ Dorian knew better than to listen to idle gossip, especially when it was about people who were rich and beautiful, but there was just something… not right about them, about the way they moved around one another.

Evie stood to greet them with a snake smile, the kind that Dorian was also becoming used to. Saw it in Morrigan, recognised it enough from members of his own family, back in the day.

He had to remind himself that these two, they _were_ his family. Blood relatives. Brother and sister, really.

They had only the vaguest look of his father about them. He'd seen pictures of their mother, a woman rich unto herself because Halward had strayed, oh he'd strayed far and wide, split himself between multiple lives, but none of those lives had been anything less than the finest quality. Evie was all her mother, with the Pavus eyes. Max was much the same, except he had something of Halward's cruel smile.

'Dorian,' Evie greeted, shaking his hand with a warmth that prickled under his skin like it did not _belong_. 'You look wonderful.'

'Yes,' Max agreed, grey eyes flicking up and down Dorian's whole body as if he were mildly interesting chattel. 'The life agrees with you, I'd say.'

If there was one thing Dorian _didn't_ like so much about this lifestyle, it was having to be _Polite_ while only just managing not to throw himself across the table and attack the pair of them, greedy ratbags. It was all smiles, barely veiling the unbridled hatred.

As if they _hadn't_ taken Cullen to court, despite an album being supplied _before_ they took over the label. As if they _hadn't_ bitterly fought for everything Cullen and the others owned.

'Yeah,' he replied, wide smile firmly in place. 'I'd say the same for you, except we all know that's a load of shit because I detest you both.'

Leliana sighed while Cullen laughed carelessly as if Dorian had told a classic joke.

Evie laughed too, taking her seat without having so much as _looked_ at Fenris and Dorian sort of envied him for that, for never having caught their attention beyond an initial curious glance.

'Still so _feisty, eh?_ It's good not to lose that spirit.'

The twins side of the table had four extra people, all men, two on either side. Lawyers, Dorian supposed.

'I didn't realise we were bringing in the heavy artillery,' Lee commented as they sat down. 'Shall we call Morrigan?'

'These are not our counsel,' Max assured her, waving a mildly dismissive hand at the two men beside him, staring blankly. 'They are representatives of our trust fund.'

'This is our final meeting,' Leliana stated decisively, laying out a folder and her tablet. 'Whatever you're driving at, please do so with some expediency. We have other meetings.'

'Of course,' Evie smiled. 'Busy day, off planning the launch of your _new_ label. However, you are still tied to us until the,' she cleared her throat, eyes glittering. ' _Album_ you supplied to us as we took over the majority board of shareholders, is fully appropriated. Mid-January, if we sign today, I think?’

'Get to the point,' Dorian said before he could stop himself. Cullen tensed slightly, but made no move to silence him.

'Concise as ever,' Max sneered at Dorian, sat sideways, arm resting on the table. He lifted his gaze to Fenris, who stood by the door. 'Get us some coffees, will you?'

Fenris was utterly implacable. 'Nope.’

'No one is staying long enough for drinks,' Leliana said firmly. 'You've assembled the stage, Evelyn, why not tell us what this is in aid of? Clearly it's not to finalise parting from the label you so foolishly bought into, seeking to ruin us.'

'Very well,' the pale blonde said, interlacing her fingers. 'I'll speak plainly for those whose education didn't stretch _quite_ so far. It was a clever thing you pulled, a miracle of sorts. The album you supplied _our label_ with was roughly thrown together, an entirely acoustic, very _folksy_ thing but despite that, your _artist's_ name was a hot commodity at the time and the album fully met the requirements contractually demanded.’

'You still took us to court.'

Evie smirked. 'As was our right. The album was beyond late. There were compensatory means to be extracted.'

'Which were paid in full.'

'Twenty million,' Max laughed softly. 'Is nothing.'

Dorian made a muted sound of disgust, but held his silence even when they paused, giving him space and time to say his fill.

'The decision of the court is nothing to do with us,' Leliana reminded them. 'And that _claim_ was final, fully paid and now non-existent. If you're attempting to—'

'No,' Evie said, raising her hand. 'No, I apologise. We were merely providing context for what we're about to broach.'

Dorian did not like this one bit.

'You're not _broaching_ anything. We met the terms of the contract, paid the penalty as was seen fit by the courts you dragged us through and now that the album is appropriated and circulated, we are at the _end_ of our tenure with this label, and _you_ both.'

'Yes, so it would seem. And we are happy to sign to part ways today, finalising in mid-January, as I said.'

'We'll break the company down,' Max commented. 'Sell it off.'

'We have no need for it now.'

'Shame, so many jobs about to be lost.'

'We would keep it if you stayed, of course.'

'But you won't.'

'So we won't.'

They spoke almost in tandem, a habit Dorian remembered well.

'Get to the _point_ ,' Cullen said, his voice quiet and unyielding.

Evie looked at him and her smile turned positively _dripping_ with something deeply unpleasant, something undeniably sexual as her gaze roamed over Cullen. 'Such a shame,' she sighed. 'You're wasted with our brother.'

Max shot his sister an irritated scowl, but said nothing.

'The point,' she said, lifting her hungry gaze to meet Cullen's own. 'Is that we've come to make an offer.'

Leliana's nails tapped in a steady, flowing rhythm on the beautiful marble surface of the massive table.

'What offer?'

The back of Dorian's neck went cold as the twins moved their gaze to _him._

 _'_ An offer to buy the loft.'

'The loft,' Max added swiftly. 'That was ours by right. As the eldest surviving heirs of the Pavus estate, _everything_ should have gone to us.'

'This is tiresome,' Lee said, unswayed. 'Are you both truly so at a loss with your time that you've nothing better to do than stir up bad blood and regrets?'

'It was a poor decision,' Evie said, watching Dorian steadily. 'To allow him to take it. We were afflicted with grief, the loss of our Father. We made a mistake. A mistake we want to rectify today by offering twenty million, the sum you paid to us for the penalty of the _late album._ Twenty million for the loft.'

They fell silent, twin silver gazes locked onto Dorian, measuring his every movement, every reaction.

Within, there was disbelief swirling thickly with the old familiar sting of treachery, with panic because they were coming for the one thing his Mother had set aside for him, the one place she'd bought herself, for her son, because he'd always loved London, spoke of it whenever he could.

'No,' he said, voice trembling slightly.

Evie slanted a brow. 'No? That's ten times more than it's worth.'

'No.'

Max's jaw twitched. 'It's _ours_ , we should never have agreed to let you keep it. You were entitled to nothing.'

'That is a patent fallacy,' Lee said sharply. 'I have looked over the deeds of inheritance and the will stipulations, it was clear that _business dealings_ and holdings would go to the eldest child, but that all residential assets were to be split evenly. That's without mentioning that his mother left him the loft _separately.'_

Evie smiled, unconcerned. 'Our Father owned everything she did.'

'Not the loft.'

'Yes, the loft. Any money she had to buy it with came from him. She was _no one_ when they met. We looked into her family holdings. They were barely above middle class, all but a good name. Everything is ours. We are the eldest.'

'No,' Leliana said, smiling in a very _fuck you_ kind of way. 'It's not. You see, there's this thing called reality and I realise it's difficult for either of you to get a grasp of it, distanced from the world as you are, but Dorian was entitled to so much _more_ than just the loft his Mother left him and even if that were not true, were not _public_ _record_ , the sad fact is that you signed away your right to ever pursue the loft. You _agreed_. It's iron clad.'

Maxwell poured out a water from the bottle in the middle of the table. 'Hence why we're here with a generous offer,' he said, flashing a brilliant white smile. 'And not a lawsuit.'

'I don't want your money,' Dorian said.

The twins glanced at one another. 'Thirty million.'

Dorian laughed, couldn't help it. ‘The fuck is this?'

'We won't go any higher than fifty.'

Lee shook her head. ‘Enough, this is madness.’

'We want it,' Evie said, still looking at Dorian as if trying to _discover_ something. 'It was ours by right and we want it.'

Dorian took powerful pleasure in sneering at the pair of them. 'It was never yours and it never will be. Just like you tried to get your hands on Cullen's assets and _failed_. Bad decision after bad decision. I might not have gone to University,' he said, letting his lip curl. 'Might not have a business degree or the finest education money can buy, but I know our Father. He was a cold, loveless fuck and he would never have made a decision like this. Reckless. Stupid. Now you're begging for something you can't have?' He laughed at them, relishing the way Max's expression soured. 'Halward would be even more ashamed of you than he already was.'

Max's cheeks flushed. 'He wasn't—'

‘Stop,' Evie said, cutting him off swiftly. She looked at the people on either side of them. 'Leave us. You too, Max.'

Her twin brother glared, but didn't argue. He got up from his seat, walked outside with the men who hadn't said a word.

'Can I speak with Dorian privately?' Evie asked the others.

'No,' Cullen said. 'Anything you want to say, you can say in front of us.'

But Dorian's curiosity was burning on a low flame in his gut.

'It's OK,' he told them, his three. 'Just for a minute.'

Cullen touched his arm, warm and solid gesture. 'You're sure?'

Dorian nodded and slowly, they left the boardroom.

When the door closed, Evelyn looked back at Dorian.

'We've never gotten along.'

'A mild understatement.'

'It's my fault,' she admitted across the wide, vast table. 'There was never room for another brother in my life and you're right. Halward was ashamed of us. We were his second family and although he left us the business holdings, permitted us to trade under his name, we were never given the Pavus name, we were never shown love by him. You were his son, his true son. He excluded you from the business aspects, but we should have taken better care of you. I think he expected us to.' She got up and walked over to the coffee table nearby, making one for herself, not offering Dorian anything. 'I didn't want to take care of you,' she went on. 'I wanted you to drop dead. Max and I deserved that money as replacement for the Father we never had. I was angry. Jealous. You had him all your life. We were footnotes in his will. He never once called me Evie, you know,' she said, sitting back down. 'Always Evelyn. Always Maxwell. We were his firstborns and he never once came to a birthday. To a school play. Your Mother was the love of his life and you, however unfavourably you recall him, you were his pride and joy.'

Dorian rubbed his face, abruptly tired of it all.

'That's absolute fucking bullshit.’

'Is it?'

'His _pride and joy_ , seriously. He hated me. He did nothing but tell me what a disappointment I was, how much I let him down just by being who I was. He was on me all the time, constantly pressuring me to do better, be better.'

She gestured vaguely. 'That was love. That was how Halward Pavus _loved_. He didn't care about Max and me. He never put pressure on us, didn't think we were capable of anything. We tried constantly to impress him and were met with a dead stare. We tried in the later years to earn his anger, his disapproval, but he didn't care about that either. Nothing we did mattered. Good, bad. You know what he called us?'

Dorian sighed, but he waited, listening despite himself.

Evie looked down at the table. 'He called us the _ouroboros_. The snake that consumes itself. I would hear him speak to our Mother, hear her mention us and then he'd say, _"How is the ouroboros?"_ as if we were one person, not two. Not even worthy of distinction as individual humans. He was angry with you because he cared. We were nothing to him.'

'Except he left you the majority of everything he owned.'

'We were the snakes,' she said. 'We were the reptiles he trusted to continue his business ventures. Automatons who wanted nothing more than money, or so he designated us.'

Dorian crossed his arms. 'It's a sad story. One I might give a shit about had you not done what you did to me. Had you not come for Cullen like you did.'

'It's business.'

'I'm your brother.'

'Yes, I suppose you are. Not the way Max is, but yes. And we shouldn't have treated you the way we did, but here we are. We want the loft. We're buying up that whole street, redeveloping. We need it before we can buy out the rest of the building. There is a personal element to it, yes, but most of all, as you know, money is the driving force.'

'Always money with you two.'

'Like I said, we're the ever consuming snakes. Money is power, power requires constant, never ending fuel. I'll be honest, we have investments tied up in that area. You know we're low on capital, that we've lost a lot the last two years and we need these property yields to come through. Your loft is standing in the way of it. So please,' she said, the word foreign on her tongue. 'Let us pay you for it. Sixty five million is what you'd have been entitled to if we'd split our Father's financial holdings evenly, three ways.'

Dorian looked to the side, thinking slow, just like Fenris taught him. 'What would you do with it?'

'Tear it down.'

He tried to imagine that. His loft, his hideaway, his safe place. So many good times, so many bad. Four walls and a roof, windows and a killer view. Place he'd recently renovated with Cullen, place where he and Cullen came to at the end of the day.

But more than that, it was a piece of his Mother. He still remembered the first time he'd ever seen it, ever walked around it. He knew his Mother had chosen it for him because he would _love it_.

'I can't,' he said. 'I can't let it go. It's all I have left of her.'

Evie’s eyes glittered with silken malevolence. _'Really_? The place where you tried to take your own life? Where you were by all accounts manhandled by that lumbering ox in the papers? That's worth more than sixty five fucking million to you?'

'I can't sell it to you. I'm sorry.'

She gave him a measured look, cold dislike edged with something grudgingly impressed. 'No, you're not.'

'No, not really,' he admitted, leaning back. 'Mostly because I think you're _lying_. You don't own the building, you tried to buy it years ago and failed. The street isn't under-performing, either. It's not an area you can gentrify. You're lying to me, but I have no idea why. You know what else I think?'

'Astonish me.'

'I'm starting to think the reason you came after Cullen so hard was in the hope I would be forced to sell you the loft to help him.'

'No danger of that,' she purred, smiling the way their Father had done sometimes. Cold. Cruel. 'Not after his impressive _rally_ with the album. Quite the _muse_ , aren't you?'

Dorian got to his feet, lips pressed together. 'Was there anything else?'

She didn't stand. 'Not for the time being.'

'Then you’ll sign what you came here to sign in the first place.'

'Yes, we can do that.'

'Great,' he said, hand on the door. 'You can do that _without_ me. Take care, Evie.'

*

People tended to stop Cullen in the street. They were always polite, always hesitant, but they were _needy._ There was an edge of desperation to their adoration. He signed his name, wished them well, posed and smiled pretty for pictures and then moved on. Dorian always stood well back, let it happen while he waited patiently for his boyfriend to return. People took his picture constantly. From a distance, up close. Normal people on their phones, journalists. Everyone wanted a piece of him, Cullen Rutherford, superstar.

Cullen was used to it. Dorian wasn't, not yet, but he was adjusting. It was becoming normal.

Dorian waited for this particular group of people to be done hugging Cullen, softly gasping and smiling so wide it had to hurt their faces. Lee took the pictures and then handed the phone over.

When they were gone, Cullen slipped back to himself. He didn't apologise for it anymore and that, _that_ was well worth putting up with the annoyance of having to stop talking and wait for _fans_ to get their fill of him. In the earlier days, Cullen had apologised constantly. Not now. Dorian was so proud.

'I confess I'm rattled too,' Lee agreed when they were gone. 'It makes no sense why they'd want the loft. To offer so much as well. Their assets are enormously reduced. Sixty five million would _hurt_ them and for what? To _redevelop?_ It's a misnomer. One cannot _redevelop_ a street in London. London belongs to herself and no one else. It's strange.'

'Well,' Fenris mused. 'They're vicious little fuckers, aren't they? Maybe it really is personal for them.'

'All that matters to me,' Dorian said, holding Cullen's hand once more, looking both ways before they crossed the road. 'Is that you're contractually free of them and the label.'

'We are,' Lee said. 'Come January, we'll be entirely free to do as we please. Start fresh and begin again under our _own_ label. Their signature today makes it final. I'll have Morrigan keep an eye on them, regardless.'

'Good idea,' Cullen said, stepping up onto the pavement. 'Do we—'

'Stop,' Fenris said suddenly, taking hold of Cullen's wrist.

They all froze, save for Cullen, who pulled Dorian and Lee closer.

'What is it?'

'I…' Fenris was staring across the crowded street, body completely rigid, hand around Cullen's wrist. 'I thought I saw him.'

'If you thought you saw him, then you _saw_ him,' Lee said sharply. 'Let's go.'

'No, I… I think it was just someone similar,' Fenris said, carefully loosening his grip. 'That guy there, he just… looks like him.'

The guy did _sort of_ look like Jassen, especially from the side. Dorian willed his heart to calm, painful pulse pounding in his bones.

'Fuck,' he breathed.

Fenris's nose furled once, a tiny indication of inwardly aimed anger, before he swallowed it down. 'Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry,' Cullen said firmly. 'You're looking out for us.'

'I shouldn't jump to conclusions.’

Dorian didn't like it that Fenris was _shaken_ , that his downward gaze was both hollow and _full_ of things he didn't deserve to feel.

Because if Cullen had things he wasn't saying, Fenris had things he wasn't _asking_. Dorian knew Fenris was unaware of the majority of what had happened to him during his two years in what Cullen described as _the pit_. But as they looked into Jassen's past, his time in a similar place, that chasm of knowledge was yawning wide.

Leliana touched his shoulder and Fenris flinched, he _flinched_.

Jaw clenched, he said, 'Sorry. Let's uh, let's get to the car. Dorian, we'll take you to Artea's.'

Dorian and Cullen shared a look, pain and sadness moving between them, eased by the simple act of _sharing_ it. Halving it. Cullen loved them all so much, Fenris was an undeniable part of Cullen as was Lee. It was difficult for everyone, complicated in so many ways.

Dorian buried the worst of his concern. 'That'd be great, thanks.'

*

It went unsaid that Cullen's offer to come with and be the supportive boyfriend was _so very_ appreciated, but the blond didn't argue when Dorian kindly refused. He understood that his presence there might detract from the actual art.

Dorian loved his work. He loved the shop, the atmosphere, the people. The colours on the wall, the art pieces, the wonderfully varied smells. The warmth in the air born of steam that had rivulets running down the glass, rainy from the inside.

So they kissed in the car, parted with _I love you_ 's and the promise of _later_ and then Dorian went to work, Cullen off to continue his day and that was how it was.

*

'Babe, what's up?' Sera asked Lana under her breath, under cover of all the applause for the truly gorgeous hand sketches on Dorian's _showcase_ wall, people taking pictures, clapping.

Dorian looked over, hands stilling. 

Lana shook her head, smiling in a way that was definitely forced.

'Nothing, all good.'

'Oh, bloody hell,' Dorian said, his quiet concern drawing both their gazes. 'What is it?'

'It's—it's _nothing,_ ' Lana assured him, nodding towards the mini art show, eyes widening into a kind of glare.

He let it go for the time being, as orders for tea came flooding in and Rosalie would need help taking orders, but later, _later_ there would be chats.

'The meeting went well?' Rosalie asked him, holding out a card reader for a customer.

'As well as it could,' he told her, mind still with Lana, worry plaguing him. 'You coming for dinner tomorrow night?'

'Of course! Wouldn't miss it.'

Dorian smiled at her, such a darling girl. 'He loves having you here, y'know.'

She laughed at that. 'I know. It won't last forever, but it's fun for now. The East wind will come calling eventually, but not before Christmas.'

Rutherfords apparently took Christmas very seriously. Their loft looked like Santa's fucking Grotto and Dorian, he really wasn't complaining, frankly adored the rainbow glow of so many coloured lights, of tinsel and glittery things. He loved it himself, was carried away entirely by Cullen's own enthusiasm for it.

Especially this year, not least because they were spending it with Sophia.

Of all the things they'd managed to resolve in the last few months, Madeline's relationship with Cullen had to be the most rewarding. Not because she'd changed her tune, not at all. She was still a complete bitch, she despised Dorian, she never missed an opportunity to put Cullen low and make him feel bad about himself.

Her insults varied, but sometimes, she commented on Cullen’s size, bringing Dorian to an awareness that, when really, truly stressed, his boyfriend had a tendency to either _overeat_ or eat nothing at all.

It was a small thing, but Madeline could put her fingers inside it and _pry_ , make it into a wound, if she so desired. She hurt him still, she _gouged_ him still, even though he had taken a firmer stance against giving her money.

The _rewarding part_ was that she let him see Sophia quite often. Cullen had Friday night and Saturday afternoons with his daughter which meant that so did Dorian. Cullen would pick her up from school and take her shopping, letting her choose the majority of what they bought and then it was home to the loft. They'd cook together, she and Cullen, Fenris helping sometimes while Lee and Dorian would make the table ready, doing various small things to prepare for the weekend with their _daughter_ , which she was, at heart.

It hadn't taken Dorian very long to realise it, time spent with Sophia at the weekends and the three of them with her, making it clear, that they loved her as if she was their own. Fenris _loved_ her, Leliana _loved_ her. They parented her, between the three of them, they were the perfect parental unit. They operated so flawlessly in their _three_ , even as they made room for Dorian, who loved her as well. Couldn't _help_ but love her, darling, delightful little thing that she was. So much of Cullen in her that it was startling sometimes.

And though no one loved her as _much_ as Cullen, maybe no one ever could, that didn't mean that she wasn't also Fenris's child, Lee's child. They would die for her without a second thought. Her wellbeing was their priority. Elements of a relationship that had eluded Dorian all his young life.

Madeline let Cullen have his Friday nights and Saturday afternoons, sometimes even the odd week day for dinner here and there.

It wasn't generosity, it wasn't even to get more money.

Madeline was terrified,

She was perpetually _terrified_ of Jassen, that he was coming for her, that he would kill her. And even though Madeline wasn't a good parent, not the way Cullen was, not even the way Lee and Fenris were, she still loved her daughter well enough to want to protect her.

So, this Christmas meant they were spending it with Sophia, she would be staying with them in the room Dorian and Fenris had decorated with her, mostly at her very particular instruction.

Fenris wouldn't stay the night, even when Lee did. He returned home to his flat or if he wasn't sleeping, then he would spend the night awake on the rooftop, guarding them.

Leliana slept on the new, pull out sofa that transformed into a very comfortable double and by the time Sophia was awake, Fenris would have returned, making tea and breakfast.

It was all very strange and yet not strange at all. They were _weird_ and Dorian loved them for it.

'Yes,' he mused, grinning. 'Christmas is really gonna be something this year.'

*

By the time he got home, he was pleasantly tired. A lovely, warm kind of ache in his bones, soothed by the sheer _pride_ in what had taken place that day in his shop. He was gently exhausted and it had been cold outside, the walk home always a lovely thing in winter with all the lights everywhere and for the second day in a row, Cullen was waiting for him. He adored the reversal, unusual to find the superstar home before he was, their schedules rarely permitting Cullen to _ever_ be home before eight at night unless it was a _Sophia_ day.

So, on that rare occasion, Cullen waiting for him on a lovely, cold Wednesday in December, Dorian hung up his coat, smiling at Cullen who was sat on the sofa, warm mug of tea between his hands.

'Home early again?'

Cullen was already looking at him, placed his mug down and got up to greet his boyfriend. They met like they always did, with _touch_.

_Come here and kiss me, let me hold you, graze lips over skin, breathe deep the smell of your hair. Let me cover you in my body, make you warm, make you mine all over again because we've been apart too long. Hours and hours apart._

'Wanted to be here when you got home,' he mumbled against Dorian's mouth, hot, _sweet_ insistence behind it and Dorian could smell delicious, wonderful things. 'Have the meeting tomorrow in the morning and then recording all day so I, mmmm, won't be able to be here so early.'

Dorian plunged his fingers through golden curls and shut the door with a backwards kick. All that was tired, had been achy and drained was suddenly _charged_ , suddenly desperate to drink of Cullen and know that purest, most perfect love.

'Mmm,' he intoned. 'Love you.'

Cullen's breath caught, small gasp that broke off as he pressed his forehead to Dorian's, hand on his heart. 'I love you more.'

They always took turns with that. Tomorrow, it would be Dorian's turn to love him more, silly little ritual that had come out of nowhere.

' _Missed_ you,' Dorian rumbled, unprepared for the emotion beneath it, for the way his eyes stung in the corners, the insistent, heavy thudding in his chest. 'Where were you? Need you always.'

Cullen smiled and pushed the centre of his chest, moving him back into the door a bit _harder. '_ I offered to come.'

'We both know you're too distracting.'

'Am I?' he whispered, lips moving down over the sensitive skin at the side of Dorian's neck. 'I never really notice when you're in the room. All I can see is you.'

'Mmm, God, what a welcome,' Dorian managed in between kisses. 'You're going to spoil me, Rutherford.'

'Want to,' Cullen panted as the momentum began to build and his fingers flew over Dorian's skin, peeling back layer after layer. So reminiscent of yesterday, but Dorian could tell there was a different element to it this time, a subtle _shift_ in the flavour of the energy and Dorian was there for it, was down for literally whatever Cullen wanted, especially after last night.

Fuck, but _last night_.

'Want to spoil you, love you, play with you,' Cullen was saying, his breath coming fast and short as he gently, _carefully_ manhandled Dorian into a better state of partial nudity, walking him away from the door, through the newly refurbished living area, past the kitchen and headed for their gorgeous bedroom, over the creaky floorboards into Dorian's favourite place in the world, except maybe for _Artea_ 's.

Inside, there were candles lit, the flavoured ones that Dorian liked. Lavender and rose wax melted slowly and everything was _glowing_. Bed beautifully made, habit of Cullen's, but they messed it up when Dorian fell backwards, landing on their covers, new mattress, everything fresh, had been Christened by them and only them.

'What do you want, darling?' Dorian asked, sitting up and easing Cullen's soft, grey joggers down, freeing his fucking _heart-stoppingly_ beautiful cock and yeah, Dorian was _aware_ he was waxing poetic about it, but _fucking hell_ , there had never been a more beautiful work of art. He leaned forward to suck the head, hand gliding up and down, making it wet and messy, all Cullen's _noises_ dripping down his spine like molten _love_ , pooling there, making him warm from the inside out.

Cullen loosely tangled a hand in Dorian's hair, not guiding, simply holding him back for a moment. Dorian looked up at him through lowered lashes, tongue out, dragging a wet, obscene stripe up the length of Cullen's cock, tip _teasing,_ far too gentle, tickling almost. Cullen's _sounds_ rumbled in his chest and it took him a moment to speak.

'I want what you want,' he said and Dorian didn't get annoyed, didn't become irritated. He understood what it was to defer the decision, pass it to Dorian. He quite _literally_ wanted what Dorian wanted and Dorian couldn't deny how much he loved making these decisions.

'Can we play the _stop_ game?'

Cullen's smile was slow, dazed almost, but there was nothing remotely distant about the affection in it.

'Of course,' he said, stepping out of the joggers, pulling his t-shirt off. 'You love that game.'

Dorian's cheeks flushed with heat, with _blood_ come to signal something a little _too much_ for his heart, his body. The rims of his ears were red too and he was excited, suddenly so fucking _awake_ it was ridiculous. He loved this game, though explaining _why_ he loved it to anyone but Cullen would be pretty much impossible.

He stripped off quickly, tossing clothes wherever, paying no mind when his jeans went flying into a nearby lamp almost knocking it down.

'So, _so_ beautiful,' Cullen rasped, crowding Dorian's space, nosing against his face like a cat, licking into his mouth and for a few moments, they were flush and _naked_ and it was skin to skin, heart to heart, the way they were _born_ for. Dorian's mind was a thick haze with Cullen's name at the centre, his lighthouse, his beacon. 'You ready?'

Dorian lay back fully, smiling up at the ceiling. 'Yes.'

Cullen's hands were so skilled, every part of him was, his mouth especially, but oh his clever, strong fingers and hands, the roughness there from years of playing guitar, it had Dorian _shivering_ , shuddering, eyes fluttering.

'Ahh, _fuck_ ,' he gasped, the word catching wetly when Cullen sucked him down deep, right to the back of his throat _at the same time_ as a lube slicked finger circled and prodded, carefully, methodically.

Dorian's boyfriend sucked him _expertly_ while he opened him up, rough skin adding extra layers of sensation to it while Dorian's body slowly began to reach that _impatient_ phase, wanting it now, _now_.

But he would never rush Cullen, would never push beyond the boundaries they set. Cullen was _big_ , and he liked to prepare Dorian properly, every time. Rare occasions like last night, when he handed over control _entirely,_ those were times when Dorian could get away with minimal slick, barely being opened at all. If Cullen was driving, there would be three, most likely four fingers stretching him wide, oil easing everything, making it glide.

And by the time the blunt, beautiful head of Cullen's cock was pressing there, Cullen's own hand guiding it up and down, making a wet, slippery mess, Dorian was ready to _beg_ for it, but that was not the game, not tonight.

Cullen was sat on his haunches, Dorian's legs loosely spread. One hand rubbed his inner thigh, absently stroking the skin there while he played with Dorian's hole, teasing the sensitive, needy flesh, earning a high, whiny _keen_ from Dorian who wanted him fucking _buried_ inside.

'Bend me in half,' he managed to get out before Cullen smirked and did just that, arranged Dorian's legs over his shoulders, returned to his place _on top_ of Dorian, familiar weight mostly braced on strong arms and knees and then…

Then he began to _push_.

It was so different, not being the one to _sink_ down, laying there in a strange kind of _surrender_ almost while Cullen moved inside him. The angle meant that he would brush his prostate, meant that this game might not last as _long_ as Dorian wanted, but for now all he could think of was Cullen's face as he inched slowly, carefully into the tight, slick heat of Dorian's body and it felt… fucking _incredible_.

'Stop,' Dorian said, almost forgetting what they were playing.

Cullen stopped, cock one third of the way in, head snug inside and there was no delay, no lag. He stopped, stayed still and Dorian smiled at him, playful and teasing.

'Go on, then.'

Cullen pushed further in, a devastatingly lovely noise escaping past his lips as he finally bottomed out and Dorian's mind was short-circuiting because it was an entirely different feeling, this. Beneath him, bent like this, fuck, it was _so hot_ , such pressure built inside him he wasn't sure he could stand it.

The next thing was Cullen's lips on his, deep, delicious kiss that didn't let up as he slowly began to fuck Dorian. It was wet and slick, it was _perfect_. There was almost no pain, the magic of Cullen's fingers making it so that Dorian's body was ready for him. The movement, the emerging rhythm would ruin him, would have him coming before he even knew what was happening.

Dorian kissed Cullen harder, tangling their tongues and pulling on his hair before he muttered a silky, testing, 'Stop.'

Hips stilled, breath coming so fast it sounded almost painful, but of course, Cullen stopped. He stayed inside Dorian, buried deep enough that Dorian thought he could _taste him._

'Do I feel good?' he asked, their lips touching.

'Yes,' was Cullen's half trembling reply.

'Fuck me then,' Dorian breathed, rolling his hips up and prompting Cullen to resume. It started slow again, building up to find that rhythm that had Dorian's jaw going _lax_ , his eyes wanting to roll, the world blurring at the edges. 'Fuck me harder.'

'Harder?' Cullen echoed, voice well on its way to being wrecked. 'Like this?'

The filthy slapping sound of skin on skin filled the air and Dorian moaned, deep and shuddering, because now… _now_ that thick, perfect cock was nudging that _place_ inside him, making his hips jump, his heart stutter, fucking _stars_ burst behind his eyes and he _wanted_ , he needed Cullen to come inside him, to make him come, but…

'S-stop.'

Cheeks flush, panting as if he'd been running with Fenris, Cullen's movements faltered, stopped immediately, his cock coming fully out of Dorian this time and Dorian, orchestrator of this delightful madness, could not contain the whine he let slip at the loss.

'You want to come inside me, Cullen?'

'Yes, fuck, _yes_.'

'You're doing so well, stopping when I tell you.'

Cullen waited, held back and restrained by the word, but Dorian could tell how much he wanted to kiss him then. Instead, he stayed where he was, arms trembling with the effort of bracing him in such a position, almost _planking_.

'Go on,' Dorian permitted, licking over Cullen's bottom lip.

Cullen _crashed_ their mouths together, falling right back into it this time, no need to re-establish a rhythm because he was _pounding_ Dorian. More and more, harder and deeper and all without ever actually _hurting_ Dorian, even if he wouldn't have minded it, liked the prickling sensation of pain now and again, especially when it came from an all-consuming ocean of _too much to bear._

It was desperate grunts and moans, nothing held back, nothing _reserved_ and Dorian was so, so fucking close to exploding, his whole body was ready for it, so was Cullen's, in tune as they were. Another thrust, another deep, crushing thrust into him and he would…

'Stop!'

Cullen made a noise that time, a kind of weak sob crossed with a whine but there was _no_ delay in the word Dorian spoke and the way he _stopped_ fucking him. He stayed deep inside this time and they were both a shaky, trembling _mess_ , joined in the best way possible, mouths still touching, all tangled up in flesh and sweat, in need and desire and Dorian's heart was playing a dangerous game, but it was one of his _favourites_ , musical chairs of sex, so he could be forgiven.

'Stay,' he told Cullen, wrapping his arms around his neck and gently kissing him, ignoring the screams of protest from his insides, from everything in him that wanted to _come_ and come fucking _hard. '_ Stay inside and don't move.'

Cullen swallowed but he did as Dorian said, eyes tight shut meaning he was _so close_ and Dorian loved it all the more. Teasing, testing brat he was just then.

'Am I tight?' he asked, voice like silk and Cullen made a small grunt, nodding.

'I feel good, all wrapped around your cock?'

'You do,' Cullen said through teeth ground hard together. 'You feel beyond words, _fuck_.'

'You want to come don't you?'

'Yes.'

'Why don't you?'

Cullen's eyes opened, locking onto Dorian's. 'You said to stop.'

'Yes,' Dorian said, drunk on the power yet again, drunk on his _sway_ over such a man. Household name, famous enough to be stopped in the street and Dorian had him hovering on the edge of a well-deserved orgasm, body shaking, arms positively trembling, heart thundering and he had never loved anything like he loved Cullen. 'You're being very good.'

He moved the _tiniest bit_. Not even a roll of his hips, just a small twitch, a flex but it had Cullen hissing, eyes creasing.

'Does that feel good?'

' _Everything_ feels good,' Cullen moaned. 

Dorian sucked on his bottom lip, gently biting it. 'That?'

'Yes.'

He _flexed_ again, squeezing Cullen just a bit, revelling in the broken noise it elicited. 'That too?'

'Ahh, yes!'

'You want to fuck me so bad.'

Incredibly, Cullen huffed out a shaky laugh. 'I'll always stop, baby,' he told Dorian, rubbing their noses together. 'You know I'll _always_ stop. No matter how close, no matter how crazy you make me.'

Dorian's eyes rolled slightly, pleasure shooting _down_ and colliding with what was steadily building in his loins.

'Kiss me,' he panted and Cullen wasted no time, lips meeting hot and wet and so _swollen_ , but his cock stayed nestled inside Dorian, hips motionless. His tongue was halfway down Dorian's throat, groaning low and so _needy_ it made Dorian's head swim. 'Fuck me, _slowly_.'

Pace excruciating, Cullen drew back and carefully fucked inside, like slow motion. His _sounds_ grew louder, brow rumpled deeply with concentration.

'Good,' Dorian encouraged, biting his own bottom lip. 'Slow, so slow, darling, just like that. Tease me, make me fall apart.'

Three more thrusts and Dorian was ready to come apart at the _seams;_ slow sensuous torment of Cullen's cock moving at a glacial, gliding pace, fucking him in a way that defied logic. He was hyper sensitive all over, body hovering on the edge and it made every touch, every point of contact into something that could tip him over the edge. 

'Stop,' he gasped and this time, it was more for himself than anything because his own orgasm was in his _throat_ , it was so fucking close but he wanted to hold it at arm's length, see it, feel it. Any movement now would trigger it, his entire body was _alight,_ was tingling. Cullen's eyes were _glassy_ and there was sweat on his brow. He was shaking all over, same as Dorian.

'Cullen,' he breathed. 'Touch me.'

With effort, Cullen shifted his weight without actually moving, enough to free one hand to sink between them, slow and carefully, seeking out Dorian's cock, throbbing painfully. He looked down, hesitating.

'If you come, I'm going to come,' he warned Dorian.

'I know,' Dorian told him, playing with his hair in a way that made Cullen's skin burst out into shivers. 'I want it.'

'Tell me it's OK then.'

'I want you to come when I come,' Dorian murmured, half lost to it now even though this was _his_ game, of which he was the master. 'I want the feeling,' he panted, back teeth grinding together. 'Of my _tightening_ to make you explode inside me without moving. I want you to come just that way. Not moving, not _fucking_ me, just being _in_ me.'

Cullen made a noise that was almost a cry, but he swallowed it down, tendons in his neck straining, everything about him utterly tight _, rigid_ with control. Control that would never, ever falter.

'Touch me,' Dorian panted against his lips.

Unbearably slow, Cullen's fingertips found Dorian's cockhead, grazing deftly, skin rough and the _second_ it turned to a grip, Dorian's body had had _enough_.

All that building energy, that pressurised pleasure, it _imploded_. Dorian threw his head back, nudging Cullen _much deeper_ , even though he hadn't meant to and as he came, cock spurting violently with ropes of come, Cullen made a stunningly animalistic sound, a strangled yell as he came inside Dorian's tight clutch, hips stationary by some grace of God, working Dorian through his own orgasm with sure, steady movements that he denied himself.

It hit Dorian like a _haze_ , like a sudden fever of orgasmic _bliss_. He laid there, Cullen buried inside him still and he couldn't wait another second, surged up to kiss him, to wrap himself all around Cullen and lick into his beautiful mouth with an ardour that was a mere _shadow_ of his truest desire, to crawl _into_ Cullen and live there for all time.

'Fuck, you're so _perfect,'_ he praised, panting deeply. 'You're everything I ever wanted, you're _amazing_. You came without—uhh, fuck—without even moving, didn't you?'

Cullen kissed him back, cock not yet soft, despite how much come he'd gifted Dorian. He managed a weak nod and Dorian could _feel_ it then, how much he was the actual centre of Cullen's universe. It was a dizzying feeling, like looking down from a great height.

His superstar boyfriend was panting harshly, all fucked up, beautifully _wrecked_ from coming without motion. Dorian, deliciously sated but still _playful_ , still deeply tangled up in Cullen, gave a shallow roll of his hips and Cullen made a sound like he'd been _gutted. _

'Still hard, baby?' Dorian purred, licking over his lips, biting that bottom one as he interlocked his ankles behind Cullen, arms about his neck and they were so _wet_ , so messy, but it was perfection, pure blissful intimacy of the best kind. 'You were _so good_ for me, how about you fuck me through the mattress as a reward?'

'Say it then,' Cullen breathed, effort of control reducing him to shuddering tatters, so much love in his eyes, in the way he _looked_ at Dorian. 'Say it to me.'

Dorian just smiled as he released his bottom lip, holding on, making ready because when given the word, Cullen was going to _snap_ , he really was.

'I want you,' he said, delicate and purposeful. 'To fuck me as hard as you want, as hard as you _can.'_ Then he pressed a smaller kiss to the side of Cullen's mouth, the two just breathing for a few seconds. 'Do you want that?'

'I want what you want.'

'Say it then,' Dorian echoed, because while Cullen could be _achingly_ clear about what Dorian wanted, sometimes he hid behind that, behind Dorian's desires and needs and wants, still just a _tiny_ bit hesitant to say what he wanted, to _ask_ for things and this… this was one of the times Dorian wanted him to be explicit. 'Say what you want because you _know_ , Cullen, whatever you want, it's already yours.'

Dorian was pretty impressed with himself that he was still _capable_ of speech at this point, but something inside him knew they weren't _done_ yet, so he couldn't quite relax, was still too excited, spent, sticky cock slowly filling once more like he was a fucking _teenager_ or something.

There was that _line,_ pretty indent between Cullen's eyes because it was difficult for him sometimes, asking for things but Dorian never, ever became impatient, not with this. They had all the time in the world, as far as he was concerned and he would coax Cullen as much as was needed.

'I want to fuck you, yes.'

Dorian kissed him, gentle reward for his honesty, however guarded it was. There was a part of him that he tried very hard to suppress, because who the fuck wanted to think about _Madeline Hawke_ during sex, that filled with prickly, sour anger towards the mother of Cullen's child. Cullen had told him about Madeline, about the _terrible_ things she'd made him do. It made Dorian incredibly fucking _sad_ that his experiences with sex had been so, so negative before him and also filled him with determination to make this entirely, completely _right._

Cullen loved it when Dorian took charge, when he was in control. Cullen didn't _like_ being in control unless it was for something specific and even then, Dorian was always the one who had the real power. Control had been used against him, he'd been made to do things he hadn't wanted to. It had been weaponised against him even as it was completely, cleverly denied in all the real elements of his life.

For Dorian, control, power and decision making had been _taken_ from him for a long time, duration of his whole miserable relationship with the man who'd gone to the papers two months ago with a desperate _Tell All_ attempt to take Dorian down that had backfired spectacularly. To his _ex_ , bottoming had meant being a subby, silent little fucktoy and not much else. Dorian had learnt to be _quiet_ , to be pliant. When he looked around at his life now, he couldn't really _understand_ how he'd ever allowed himself to become that, but he had.

In these ways, and so many others, they were perfect for each other and though the _reasons_ they fit together so well were born of unpleasant things, Dorian was high key fucking determined to build something beautiful and perfect out of those ashes.

'You want to fuck me, darling?'

'Yes.'

'You want to come again?'

'God, yes.'

'You want to fuck me hard, don't you? You need it. I want it too.'

Cullen whined, forehead pressed to Dorian's and there was… _still_ something there, something holding him back even though he was fully hard again, Dorian could feel it in the tension of his body, the way he was _restrained_ as if Dorian was still telling him to _stop_.

'Love,' Dorian said, rubbing their noses together, swallowing hard. 'Tell me what you want.'

'Can you… can I have you in my lap?'

And Dorian was an _idiot_ because he'd forgotten, let the knowledge just _flit_ out of his head and in all fairness, he had just orgasmed hard enough to forget his own name but still, for God's sake.

'Of course,' he said quickly. 'Of _course_ , here.'

Together, they moved upright, Cullen letting out a shuddering breath, a thing of _relief_ to be upright, to be _even_ again.

Dorian had almost _forgotten_ that he didn't always like to be fully _on top_ like that without some kind of restraint. Without the _stop_ game, without silk scarves, without an element of control from Dorian. He wrapped himself around Cullen then and it was a hug, a real, live _cuddle_ because it pulled a middle string in his heart so fucking _hard_ to think how Cullen was afraid of himself still, was afraid of ever hurting Dorian in any way he didn't want because of that _bitch_.

'I love you,' he told Cullen, kissing the side of his neck fiercely. 'I love you so fucking much, feel it, feel here.' He clumsily pushed Cullen's hand to his chest, familiar place. 'Feel how crazy in love with you I am, darling. Can you feel it?'

Cullen's eyes closed and he nodded, Dorian kissing his forehead, tasting salt and skin, nosing his hair and wrapping himself all around him.

Like this, they were _even_. It was even, at least in Cullen's mind. There was something about being _above_ Dorian without a safety barrier in place that sometimes, after a long stressful day, made Cullen uneasy and Dorian _cursed_ himself for forgetting like a total _twat._

He didn't apologise though, that would lead to Cullen apologising and then they'd both be a babbling mess of who was more sorry. Usually, Cullen would win out, would go down a dark, despairing path of any time he had _ever_ accidentally applied more force than Dorian asked for (all _three times_ of accidental bruises and once of Dorian's stupidly saying, ' _ow!')._

No apologies, just making the adjustment. That was enough.

Cullen's hand brushed Dorian's hair back, eyes moving between his, searching and seeking as was his way. 'Can I kiss you?' he whispered and Dorian's heart, it nearly _broke_.

'You can always, always kiss me,' he said, even though Cullen knew that, was asking because _asking_ felt good, put them back on that even ground he needed to be steady. 'And I always _want_ you to kiss me, even when there are people around, did you know that?'

Cullen smiled a little bit. 'You do?'

'Always,' Dorian told him, stroking his back, up and down, figures of eight with his fingertips, hovering and light. 'Just to _kiss_ you, that's all I want, all day. In front of the whole world, really.'

'We already did that at _Wireless_ ,' Cullen reminded him, everything about him so _hooked_ into Dorian, so caught up in him.

'We should do it again,' Dorian said, subtly shifting his hips to see if Cullen was still hard, if he still wanted—

'Oh, _fuck_ ,' Cullen uttered, never looking away from Dorian, unable to, though his eyes creased and yes, he was still incredibly hard, still wanting _more._ 'I'm—it's—'

Dorian moved against him, rubbing his own hardness there, body taking _way_ too much interest in all that heart pounding love and relief between them, making him almost fully, achingly erect again.

'You want more?' he whispered, rubbing their lips together, open mouthed and lightly messy.

'Yes, but we don't have to—'

'I want more too,' he was quick to reassure his boyfriend, man he loved more than anyone else in the _world_.

The blond’s hand was still on his heart, best and surest way of calming and reassuring Cullen who still… _still_ had trouble sometimes believing that Dorian wasn't just giving him what _he_ wanted, as if that would be a bad thing, as if just _being_ with Cullen wasn't everything Dorian wanted.

But Dorian respected it, what Cullen needed to feel safe, even if he made mistakes sometimes, like just now. He respected Cullen's boundaries, his line.

Line that had been muddied, made a mockery of by another and Cullen had been so _young_ when Madeline had done that to him, had fucked with him and his understanding of consent. Dorian would quite literally devote his _life_ to making Cullen happy, however he could.

'Feel how much I want you,' Dorian breathed, the sheer _emotion_ of it taking him almost by surprise when Cullen bent down, pressed a kiss to the place where his hand had been, like it was a precious place and he supposed it was, but no one had ever kissed him there except for Cullen, no one had ever loved that _part_ of him, not the way Cullen could.

'I want you too,' he said after a beat, voice thick and heavy, hesitation draining away, even though Dorian hated that there had _been_ any in the first place.

'Then we'll do it together,' Dorian told him, a murmur that belied the strength he offered, the certainty. 'Every step of the way, yeah?'

Cullen nodded slowly before he kissed Dorian; a thing that sang of how _much_ he loved him and surely, people couldn't _feel_ this much without bursting, could they? Dorian's skin was a poor container for the elusive, explosive _thing_ inside him, more than love, more than adoration and devotion.

There was so much of it, _too much_ , but that was fine, that was _perfect_ because Dorian had never really been given _enough_ of anything in the past and so they were perfect, really. Perfectly broken creatures, whose cracks and rough, sharp edges fit together like they were _made_ to. Perfect for _each other_ and, honestly, what the fuck else even _mattered_ beyond that?

*

Cullen made dinner for the two of them, rare occasion when they _didn't_ have someone round and though it was always wonderful to have a full house (or flat), to have noisy laughter and plenty of chaos, it was lovely to just have _time_ to be alone together as well.

He made a relatively simple meal, by his standards at least. One of Dorian's favourites, chicken katsu curry with stir fried vegetables and coconut rice. It was simple but the way Cullen made it, the way he made it _taste_ was unlike anything Dorian had ever had elsewhere.

They didn't eat at the table, side by side on the sofa with a blanket and cushions instead, watching the last few episodes of the final season of _Queer as Folk._

Now empty plates on the coffee table, warm tea in hand, Cullen sucked in a deep, whooshing breath when Brian Kinney told Justin Taylor he _loved him_. All covered in soot and smoke from the bomb, from the _fire_ , he clung to his beloved, to the boy who'd persevered and worked his way through the cold, casual exterior that Brian had put in place, and told him he _loved him_ and Dorian…

Dorian was just _watching Cullen,_ because he'd seen that episode probably twenty times, knew every element of that scene and he wanted Cullen's experience of it.

Hand over his mouth, Cullen's eyes filled with tears, flashing red and blue lights reflected there and Dorian's heart _wrenched_ in the best of ways. He snuggled closer to Cullen, kissing his cheek even as his boyfriend chuckled wetly, wiping his eyes.

'Oh my God,' he half laughed, half _cried_. 'He said he _loved him._ Brian fucking Kinney!’

Dorian purred internally, impossibly smug about recommending the _best queer show of all time_ to the man he loved more than life, but also just enjoying Cullen's _enjoyment_.

Love was so strange, sometimes.

*

They fell asleep on the sofa together, their living room a warm, glittering place of fairy lights and Christmas decorations and it made everything feel very _safe_ , which it was. Safest place to be in all of London, except maybe Lee's, so Fenris had promised them.

It was delightfully warm beneath the cable knit blanket and Cullen's body seemed bound and determined to keep it's mate safe from the cold. Dorian opened his eyes sometime late, mid-morning maybe and he just looked at their tree, at the presents beneath it, the lights strewn artfully about and all the decorations they'd made with Sophia.

He looked around at their _life_. Cullen's platinum albums on the wall with Dorian's favourite pictures, keepsakes and aesthetics, colours and styles. Furniture and security, food and warmth and music and _love_ in every part of it.

This was the best his life had ever been, he realised quietly, laying atop Cullen's chest, the steady, dense thud of his heartbeat in Dorian's ear.

'Cullen,' he whispered, stroking his side to gently wake him. 'Cullen, I want to ask you something.'

Slow and graceful, Cullen stirred beneath him, rising from the depths of velvety dreams to the quiet, warmly lit reality that was their life together. He looked at Dorian, blinking sleepily.

'Wh'ss wrong, baby?'

'Nothing,' Dorian said, kissing his chest before looking up at him, voice lowered to a whisper as if they were hiding. 'I wanted to ask… about, y'know.'

Cullen, who'd been _asleep_ , bless him, frowned with childlike confusion. 'Huh?'

'Um,' Dorian said, feeling abruptly rather _stupid_. 'About what Harry said, that day. About… years?'

Realisation was a crystalline clearing, the sudden absence of all that sleepy bemusement. Cullen blinked and he swallowed, throat bobbing for a moment as he hovered between one breath and the next.

He sat up slowly, easing Dorian off of him.

'We should go to bed,' he said hesitantly, not quite meeting Dorian's gaze. 'I have to be up—'

'Cullen,' Dorian said, touching his shoulder to stop him. 'This is silly. I've been asking for months now.'

Cullen sighed, rubbing his eyes. 'I'm going to bed, OK?'

Dorian watched him go, unexpectedly _stung_ by that. Half debating with himself, he got up and followed Cullen, ignoring the part that said he _shouldn't._

'Why won't you just tell me what he meant?'

Cullen pulled back the covers in near total darkness, slipping in to freshly changed sheets. 'Baby, I'm tired. Please, can we do this tomorrow?'

'I just… it won't _happen_ tomorrow,' Dorian said quietly, unsure of himself for the first time in a long time.

Cullen said nothing, drawing the covers up over himself and the silence became a strange kind of _wall_ then, a thing between them that did not seek to draw them close or become a conduit for all that love, no. Silence in this way was a _defence_ and Dorian didn't know what to make of it.

The part of him that could never be tamed and calmed, no matter how _well_ he was loved, it urged him to push and _push_ , get a reaction, show Cullen how much it hurt that he'd just gotten into bed and rolled over when Dorian wanted to communicate. Get it all out in the open, rip apart the slowly building _secret_ between them because secrets were bad, they were sinister and insidious, left to grow unchecked they could strangle and consume.

But another part of him, a _newer_ part, reasoned that it _was_ late. Cullen _did_ have to be up early and that maybe ambushing him when he'd been half asleep was unfair. That Cullen maybe needed more time, even if every day without _knowing_ was hurting Dorian.

He trusted the new, let it soothe the older instinct as best it could and Dorian got into the bed too, awkward and quiet. He laid on his side and waited to see if Cullen would roll over, would grab him and kiss the back of his neck, spooning like they did most every night, but it didn't happen. They stayed on their individual sides, facing away.

*

Breakfast was similarly awkward and Dorian really began to _worry._ He'd asked about it before, well over fifty times, but he had never pointed out that Cullen was avoiding the answer, never drawn attention to it and _now_ , in the glare of his ill-timed honesty, there was something between them for the first time and every movement was an awkward dance around it and each other, both waiting to see what the other would do.

Fenris joined them as was customary, Cullen didn't go anywhere without him and he clocked the atmosphere right away, but was tactful enough not to comment. He merely worked harder to fill the silence, wonderful, helpful friend that he was.

When Cullen left with Fenris, it was with a hurriedly pressed kiss to Dorian's cheek and a mumbled, _love you_ , waiting then, because it was Dorian’s turn, his turn to say he loved him more.

But Dorian did not say it and Cullen was gone before regret could force it.

*

Dorian felt sick all morning, hated that he'd brought about this strange awkwardness but he was angry at Cullen too. For not just _saying_ it, for not just being honest about this one little thing that was niggling and nagging in Dorian's subconscious.

Harry had gone to the tabloids two months previous and his _tell all_ had been a gunshot aimed at Dorian and no one else. There was no mention of Cullen, by name or implication and that was the _only_ smart thing about his attempt, because Cullen's reputation was his career and even Hardiss Lilbourn wasn't stupid enough to tempt a defamation suit. Dorian was still a no-one, in those terms and he had gone after him with every lurid detail and outright _lie_ he could think of. Painted Dorian as a slut, a groupie, a music obsessed gold digger who had begged Harry to write those songs, who was unstable, who was a _stalker._

Lee had been made aware of it the day before it dropped, contacts well placed to warn her, but it wasn't they who tipped her off, not at first. It was a recording of a phone conversation between Harry and Seth, sent anonymously with the words, ' _head’s up,'_ in the untraceable email, nothing else.

The conversation, from a tapped phone line, depicted Harry and Seth scheming to sell the story, to invent a bunch of lies mixed with grains of truth and to ruin Dorian so that Cullen would come begging, offering money to induce Harry into making a retraction. When Dorian heard the recording, he was almost shocked by the _hatred_ in Harry's voice.

They let the story drop, let everyone print it and then they rebutted with the audio. Dorian had never seen such a swift retraction. Morrigan, who was Dorian's counsel as well as _theirs_ , repeatedly recommended he sue for libel, but Dorian was not interested in that.

Instead, he wrote a long thread on Twitter (yes, he had an account now, monitored and run by Josie) and he told his story.

He told it in tiny chunks, as was permitted by Twitter, and he wrote his story in a minimal, honest thread, thirty two tweets in total. He told the world about his relationship with the man who insisted he be called _Bull._ After he sent the last tweet, he handed back to Josie, not concerned with comments and replies, of which he was certain many would be resoundingly negative.

_Why didn't you come forward sooner?_

_Why ruin a man's life if you're happy now?_

_Where's the proof?_

_Innocent until proven guilty._

All that shit, bog standard for social media, he was sure.

But Josie said the response was overwhelmingly positive. She said people thanked him for his honesty, for drawing attention to difficult issues and it prompted many to tell of their own experiences.

He didn't reply, still wasn't ready to run it himself, but it was a weirdly _nice_ feeling to know his honesty had done _some_ good.

Harry had tried to destroy him and Dorian had not allowed it, but that _one_ comment, that one thing he'd said about _years,_ it had burrowed beneath Dorian's skin and now, with Cullen holding back the truth, his imagination threatened to take it and run wild, design the worst case horror-scape of what it could mean.

He was moping around in a fluffy dressing gown, debating going into work to stay busy when his door opened.

Dorian whirled around, heart lurching with misguided hope that it was Cullen, come to speak his truth or if not, just to take Dorian in his arms and tell him he loved him, let Dorian say it back this time because they never parted without saying it and it had been Dorian's _turn_ to say he loved him more.

Instead, Lana let herself in, guilty looking and so pale that Dorian wondered if she was sick.

'Hey,' he greeted cautiously. 'You OK? Come in. I was just gonna make more tea.'

'Hiya,' she greeted quietly, looking around the loft. 'Is uh, are you on your own?'

Dorian flicked the kettle on. 'Yeah,' he sighed heavily, his own pain sitting like a lump of cement soaked bread in his stomach. 'Cullen's working. I was about to get ready and head to the shop. Want a tea, babe?'

'No,' she said, shaking her head. 'No, thanks. I. _Fuck_. Dorian, I really need to talk to you.'

He left the kettle, dropped the spoon and hurried over to her.

'Come and sit down,' he bade, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. 'I'm right here, whatever it is, OK?'

She nodded, eyes closed and drew in a wobbly breath.

'I'm… fuck,' she said in the barest of whispers. 'I'm pregnant.'

*

Dorian did not go into work, Rosalie and Sera assured him they were fine and would call if it got too busy. He had no missed calls or messages from Cullen, but he didn't let himself think on it.

He sat with Lana's hand in his, listening while she laid it all out. How she hadn't _known_ she was pregnant because she was never regular, and there had been small, inconsistent bleeds all over the place, but it wasn't anything especially new for her. How she'd been feeling like shit, but assumed it was seasonal affective disorder, which she was prone to.

'How far along are you?' he asked her.

She swallowed thickly, tears spilling. 'Nearly six months.'

'Oh my God,' he said before he could stop himself. He looked at her then, tiny thing that she was. Thin and short and _nothing_ about her to indicate she was pregnant, not in a million years except maybe, if he really looked, maybe her belly had a shallow swell around her naval.

'I know,' she sobbed softly, head in her hands. 'Except I didn't _know_ and I… I've still been drinking, still been out fucking around, though nowhere near as much cos I've just felt like shit the whole time, been so tired the last three months and now…' she croaked. 'Now I know why.'

At nearly six months pregnant, Lana was having a baby, no two ways about it.

Dorian just sat there, one hand on her knee, the other over his mouth, trying to _think._

'I don't want this,' she uttered. 'I don't want to give birth, I'm so scared of how much it's gonna hurt and then… then what the _fuck_ am I going to do? Raise a baby?' She sniffled loudly, shaking her head. 'I don't want that either. It's not that I don't think I _could_ do it, if I had to, but I don't fucking _want_ it and I… Jesus fuck, I don't want this.'

She began to cry in earnest then and Dorian scooped her up into his arms, holding her close and stroking her hair.

'I'm so sorry,' he told her, blinking back tears of his own.

'Wh-what the fuck—' she cried. 'Am I gonna do? My Mum and Dad will _murder_ me, that's not even—fucking hyperbole. They'll disown me, they'll never let me go home!'

He let her cry for a while and when it ebbed, she wiped her nose on his dressing gown and they both laughed, sorrowful and wet.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled and he just kissed her cheek.

'We'll figure it out together,' he promised her. 'Whatever we need to do. You can put the baby up for adoption, that's an option to consider.'

'What if they're mean to him?' she asked, tone tremulous.

'Him?'

'Yeah,' she sighed. 'I had the scan to be sure, to find out the dates. It's the one where they can see the gender and I didn't need any _more_ fucking surprises, so I asked. It's a boy. And I keep thinking of Fenris in the care homes, you know? What if they treat him like that? What if he gets adopted by like, cult members or some shit?'

'I don't think that's likely, but I promise you, we will figure this out, together.'

_Then we'll do it together._

'I'm so scared, like literally terrified. I can't sleep, eat. I haven't told Sera yet and I don't even know where to start, she's gonna be so mad at me.'

'No, she won't, she loves you.'

'That's why she'll be mad,' Lana sobbed.

'OK, well I won't let her be mad, all right? I'll keep you safe from anyone who's going to even look at you funny, yeah? Might have to fracture my thumb a few more times throwing punches to defend your honour, but it's well worth it.'

She sighed hollowly. 'What honour.'

'Hey,' he said sharply, tilting her chin up. 'You've got _plenty_ of fucking honour. Don't even start with me, you hear? And look, Alistair has sex roughly four times a day, no one's questioning his honour.'

'He can't get pregnant, can he?'

'No, but I'm sure if he could have, he would by now. Lana, I _promise_ you, we will find this baby a loving wonderful home and that you will give birth in the best medical care money can buy.'

She stayed all morning.

Dorian became suddenly and quite ridiculously overprotective of her, rustling up _food_ for her because she was minuscule, secretly ordering the good vitamins for her from Amazon, the great big pillows that were meant to be good for pregnant women and about ten ton of other things he'd never had to think about before.

As the morning wore on, as she had food in her belly and tea to hand, she began to relax more and more. He made her laugh a few times, did his utmost best to get it through to her that everything was going to be OK, no matter what.

And as she relaxed, she also seemed to be gearing up towards something _else_ she had to tell him.

'Right,' she said, taking a deep breath. 'You're definitely gonna be mad about this one.'

'I promise you,' Dorian said in an _impeccable_ impression of how he would be when (if) Cullen came clean about the whole _Years_ thing. 'I won't be.'

'No matter what?'

'No matter what.'

She got up, put down her tea and started pacing.

'You're gonna be mad, but I need to tell you. I should've told you ages ago, but at the time you were all… falling apart and shit and I couldn't be sure, not until recently when I saw his picture on Fenris's wall, when we went to pick up the presents for Lee's birthday thing, not one hundred percent until then because… fuck. OK.'

Dorian waited, forcing himself not to comment until she was ready.

'So, I don't know if this is _the guy_ , because I was seeing a few at the time, but you know me, you know I try to be safe.'

'You are,' he agreed cautiously. 'You always use condoms.'

‘ _Most_ times, I do,' she said, running a hand through her hair. 'So like, five months ago, right before your place got broken into, I met this guy. Charming, really funny, I told you about him, I think? The guy who brought me six drinks?'

Dorian scanned through his memories, rifling around but couldn't place it.

'Not really,' he said with an apologetic wince.

'You were in the mansion, it was before you fucked Cullen, remember?'

'Um, vaguely?' he half lied.

'OK well, I met him before you got broken into and I think…' she shook her head. 'At the time I didn't think anything of it, but since Disneyland I've been going over and over it in my head because, he asked about you a few times, said he'd seen us out and about together and then… then you got broken into the next night and I didn't _think_ about it, but Dor,' she said, everything coming out too fast, breathless and despairing. 'He bought me six drinks and he was so _sweet_ to me and I was… I felt like I was in love, said he didn't need to wear a condom because I thought it'd make him want me more, told him I was on the pill, even though I wasn't, don't want my bones to end up as chalk, thanks very much, but then… _then_ he's there…' she panted, gesturing wildly.

Dorian’s whole body was taut, horribly rigid as he waited for what he _prayed_ was going to be anyone else's name but the one he suspected was coming.

'He was there in the hotel room, standing next to Cullen's fucking ex and he… he didn't even notice me, probably didn't even remember me and it was all kicking off, you were on the TV, shit was _happening_!' She covered her face. 'Afterwards, I thought maybe I imagined it. Six drinks in a row and he took me to a _hotel_ room, no one ever does that, and I let him fuck me without a condom because he was so _nice_ to me. Told myself I'd imagined it, couldn't be him, no way. He told me his name was Jack and I…' she laughed. 'I convinced myself it wasn't him, the one you thought had done that, had leaked the stories and the pictures.'

She sat down, hands in her hair, back curved forward. 'Then I went to Fenris's two months ago and his picture, it's right there in black and white. No denying it this time. No dark hotel room, no fucking delusion. Jassen was the guy I hooked up with five months ago and I thought, _you fucking idiot_ , he used you, probably to break in to Dorian’s loft and I felt so stupid. So used and so _dumb_. I was too ashamed to tell you but now… now I know I'm _pregnant_ and I nearly always use condoms except for… except for that one time and I…' her voice gave out as she shook her head, crying again. 'I'm _so fucking sorry_ , Dorian. I'm so sorry.'

Dorian resisted the urge to drop his own head into his hands, instead reaching for her, saying, 'You have nothing to be sorry for. You met a nice guy, you hooked up. You didn't _know_ anything.'

'I should have told you it was him,' she cried softly.

'You didn't _know_ and Christ, with what was happening at the time, it's no wonder you didn't. I'm not mad, look at me? I am _not_ mad.'

Ellana Lavellan blinked fresh tears down her face, bottom lip trembling.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered again, face twisted with despair.

'No, don't be.'

'But he's Cullen's fucking _stalker_ , he's an assassin for fuck's sake!'

That _word_ struck fear into Dorian then. Fear of Jassen's cold, clinical gaze turning upon Lana, considering her a _loose end_ , something to be tied.

'Did he recognise you?' Dorian wondered aloud. 'In the hotel?'

'He didn't even seem to see me. Never made eye contact, was just looking at Cullen, but he had to know, right?'

'He would know,' Dorian agreed. 'I suppose, maybe it didn't really dent his cover too much, if you suddenly pointed at him and announced you'd slept with him. People cheat, they give false names, plus he could just deny it, but… shit, Lana this is serious. We're going to have to keep this completely secret.'

'You think he'd kill me?'

'I can't even fathom taking the risk. Until he's caught, don't tell anyone. Even Sera. She would never spill it, but Jassen is so, _so_ smart and he's watching Cullen, I can feel it. So don't tell anyone else, OK? Just for the time being. I'm going to tell Fenris, he'll know what to do and we'll go from there.'

She took a shaky, deep breath. 'OK.'

Dorian froze. 'Fuck, I just ordered a ton of pregnancy stuff from Amazon.'

'You did?'

'I— _shit_ , I'll cancel it. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!'_

'Will he really know what you ordered on Amazon?'

'Not worth the risk,' Dorian said, rushing through the app and cancelling his orders. 'We need to tell Fenris as soon as possible. I don’t know what to do to protect you.'

Lana nodded miserably. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be sorry. It'll all be fine,' he insisted, though really, he was telling himself this as much as her now. He scrolled through his contact, landing on the only name in his _F_ section and he hit call.

Fenris usually picked up after two or three rings, his Bluetooth device always in his ear but this time it rang and rang.

Dorian hung up, tried again. No answer, no voicemail either, not that he'd ever made it that far when calling Fenris because he _always_ answered, always.

'What's wrong?' Lana asked, her voice sounding very distant and thin. Dorian looked down at his phone, no messages, no answer, no _nothing._

Something cold curled in his gut. He called Cullen, throwing awkwardness aside. Each unanswered ring had his whole body clenching tighter, compressing inwardly because even as a part of him _knew_ that they could have been in a meeting, could have been driving through a tunnel, another part of him knew that Fenris would have found a way to reassure him, to answer, quietly say, _not now_ , and hang up.

He started pacing, much as Lana had been doing and he realised he wasn't even _dressed_ , feeling sick and furious with himself. Phone between ear and shoulder, he hurriedly dressed, toeing into boots as he got through to Cullen's voicemail yet again.

'Right,' he said, looking around blindly. 'You're staying here, OK? It's safe as fuck in here and I… I'm going to go find them. They're probably in a meeting, but this is urgent so,' he took a breath, almost a gasp that caught him by surprise. 'Stay here, yeah?'

'All right,' she said. 'Please let me know when you get through.'

Coat on, keys and wallet in his pocket, he nodded distractedly. 'Yeah, course. They're in a meeting, that's all. Back soon.'

He tried Lee's phone as he headed swiftly down the stairs, adrenaline pumping through him, giving him speed and strength. No answer from her, but again, they could just be busy.

He called Josie and got through right away.

 _'Hello, you,'_ she greeted calmly, happily.

'Oh, thank God,' he exhaled, headed out the front of his building, having forgotten all about the back way, avoiding photographers who might be parked across the road. 'Are they with you?'

_'No, they were meeting with the legal team today, so no need for me and my talents. Is everything all right?'_

Legal team. No way they would take calls during that.

'I'm fine,' he said, heart positively _pounding_ in his chest, terror abating slightly even if the worry did not. 'I couldn't get through to any of them, but if they're with the legal team then—'

 _'That was this morning, though,'_ Josie added slowly. _'It could have run on, but the appointment was at nine.'_

It was well past one.

'Do you know where they are now?'

_'No, but I can try and find out. Shall I come to you?'_

Dorian looked around, hopeless anxiety strangling him, wringing all the common sense from his head. He tried to calm down, to think like Fenris did, slow and measured.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to be _steady_.

'I'm outside my place,' he told her. 'See if you can get in contact with them for now, maybe there's something wrong with my signal or whatever. Call me back in five minutes, if that's OK?'

 _'Good idea,'_ she said. _'Five minutes.'_

Dorian hailed down a cab, couldn't waste time with an Uber, and gave the man Lee's address in Kensington, trying Fenris again.

This time, it went right to an automated message about his call not being connected at this time and Dorian didn't know if that was good or bad that somehow, in the last few minutes, Fenris had gone from not answering to turning the phone _off_.

He tried Cullen, but it just rang and rang again, annoying female message once again welcoming him to the voicemail section.

'Bad traffic this way,' the cabbie said. 'I'll circle around, yeah?'

Dorian glanced up distractedly. 'Yeah, yeah, whatever.'

'Been an accident just now,' the cabbie went on, as if Dorian wanted to have a fucking _chat_. 'Collision down near Elephant and Castle.'

Dorian tried Lee again, knee jogging violently up and down as the cab _crawled_ through the streets. 'Yeah?'

'Said on the radio someone got badly hurt. Bet it's another biker,' the man prattled on while Lee's phone rang without answer as well. 'They're a nightmare around the one way.'

'Mmm,' Dorian said, barely listening.

Fenris - no connection.

Cullen - voicemail.

Lee - no answer.

'Oh hang on, here,' the man said, turning up the radio like Dorian had asked for such a thing. 'This is it.'

'No, sorry mate, can you—?' Dorian began, but his blood turned to _water_ when he heard the radio news reporter say what car it was in the collision.

_'_ _…black range rover sentinel flipped twice before landing on the pavement, avoiding civilians on foot, but was then rammed again by the white van, pushing the car halfway through a shop, according to onlookers. The scene is only now being attended by police, but witnesses describe seeing a scuffle and hearing gunshots. Ambulances are arriving now, as you can hear, and what I'm being told but cannot confirm is that the person inside the car was the singer, Cullen Rutherford. We are on scene now, waiting for more updates.'_

'Shit,' the driver said. 'Bet it's a terrorist attack, fuckers at it again, ramming cars and the like, miserable bastards.'

'G-get me there,' Dorian heard himself say, everything vaguely disconnected, out of body experience clashing wildly with the worst feelings of panic he'd ever endured. Panic that _seized_ and twisted. 'I need to get there, right now!'

'What, _there_? You can't, won't be able to get near it all day, it'll be chaos, chock-a-block, you— _OI!'_

Dorian got out of the cab, ignoring the man's yelling about owed fares, and he began to _run_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have very few notes, except to say the update will be coming (possibly) sooner than expected as a lot of it is written already. I could ramble about the tonal shift or my decision to do a time jump of this size, but really, all I need to say is thank you to my readers, my commenters, my supporters, I hope you enjoyed this (even if you want to punch me a bit) and also to say, what the fuck was I thinking when I cheerily declared this would be done BEFORE Christmas, seriously? Good God. 
> 
> At this point, I consider the third and final arc to have truly come into it's own (if not only just begun) and there will be more chapters than I planned because LITERALLY OF COURSE. Anyway, I worked extra hard to make this chapter something special (all that sex! and only one third of it was angsty!) so if you wanna drop me a comment, feel free, but if not, I still hope you liked this. More soon. Like, way sooner if I get a bazillion comments, lol only kidding.  
> Oonion over and out.💜💜💜


	29. Oh, It's Such a Perfect Day, I'm Glad I Spent It With You, Oh, Such a Perfect Day (You Just Keep Me Hanging On)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you all for the amazing, incredible support and kindness.   
> 💜💜💜

_The paper tore easily because it was thin and Dorian had never been especially good at wrapping presents, never could focus on the detail and the_ bows _, the ribbons or whatever, not when he knew it was going in the bin ten seconds after the present was opened, but as he watched Cullen tear into his gift, he promised that next time, he was going to do it, go all out._

_Cullen's smile grew, Dorian helpless but to mimic it._

_'Oh my God, you didn't,' he gasped, pulling the small plastic box from the thin, poor quality paper. 'This is_ _…' he laughed, full on laughed and tackled Dorian gently, rolling over the mess of softly rustling paper until he was atop him, kissing all the air from his lungs._

_'You got me body glitter,' he whispered, smile still so wide, so fucking_ perfect _it did things to Dorian, irreversible wonderful things. 'You are the best, you know that?'_

_Dorian snorted, tried to shrug off how deeply it went right to his core, that smile, because Cullen had all the money in the world, he shouldn't have been impressed with a tiny set of body glitter._

_'About time you got your own,' he said, smoothing Cullen's hair from his face, paper underneath him._

_Cullen's eyes moved between his, rapid and energised. On the floor of Dorian's loft, inside the warm nest of covers they'd made, Cullen said, 'I love you so much.'_

_Dorian managed to swallow over the thick lump, over the_ too _much, the strange way Cullen's enjoyment of something so small truly affected him, and said, 'I love you_ more.'

*

Dorian ran.

The soles of his feet hit the pavement hard, boots slapping loudly against the wet asphalt and his legs burned, but he had _energy,_ strength to run faster than he ever had before. He'd never _had_ to run, but now that he was, it was nothing. His heart was a wild, frantic thing in his chest, giving whatever he needed to _get there_.

Elephant and Castle was a five minute drive, but Dorian was running flat out, he was _flying_ through the streets, past stationary vehicles and as he drew closer, terrible things building within, he could smell smoke, he heard sirens and knew, fucking _knew_ , this was it.

Fenris's car was the kind of thing that _ambassadors_ drove, important people relying on the security of that well-made metal monstrosity, bulletproof glass and titanium frame, so Fenris had explained to Dorian more than once, who'd laughed, hiding how _bored_ he was.

The Sentinel was what Dorian saw first. Big, black Range Rover that was on its _side_ , halfway through a shop front. It was jarring; a sudden ball of _sick_ wedging up into Dorian's throat and everything _hurt_ , it was all burning and numb as he skidded to a halt, vision blurring from the running, but he didn't waver.

Police were cordoning off the whole area, but it was visible from anywhere. Photographers were gathering, being told to move back and ambulances were there already, three of them. Everyone was huddled around the car, the Sentinel that was smashed and bent, windows shattered, frame twisted and all Dorian could think of was Fenris going on about titanium and Lucite. Not enough, not fucking _enough_ to protect them.

The police were lifting white sheets over bodies, fucking _bodies_.

Dorian ran again. He shoved past people who were crowding at the edge of the boundary set by police. He weaved his way through a thickening crowd, smashing into an officer right at the edge.

'Move back, sir,' the officer said sternly, flatly.

'No, _no,_ he's my—they're my, I'm family, I'm _family_!'

'Sir, you need to stay back at this time.'

Dorian struggled and another officer came over, restraining him by the upper arms. ‘Get off me— _Cullen! Fenris!'_

_'_ Let him through,' someone said. 'Quickly.'

The officers gave Dorian a suspect look but they released him and he shoved rudely, furiously past them, running to the centre of all the madness.

'Cullen,' he panted, looking to the person who'd let him in. An older woman with short grey hair, plain clothes officer by the looks of things. 'Where is he? He's not—he's—'

'Are you Dorian? Sir?'

Dorian couldn't catch his breath. 'Y-yes, I am, where— _fuck_ , where is he? Where are they?'

'Come with me,' the woman said, hand on his lower back, guiding him towards the car, the Sentinel, all bent and broken.

'Where is he?' Dorian asked and he could hear, in his own voice, how fucking terrified he was, even if he couldn't _feel_ it yet. 'What are these—he's OK, isn't he? He's not—?'

'Please come this way.'

The three ambulances were parked with their backs all facing the same way in a kind of semi-circle, giving privacy to the inhabitants. Dorian was full on hyperventilating, couldn't feel his hands, couldn't hear anything beyond the thick, _dense_ pounding of his heart as it forced blood through him unnaturally fast.

At the back of one ambulance, as they turned abruptly left, was Leliana. She had a blanket around her shoulders, oxygen mask on her face and a paramedic was shining a light into her eyes, chatting with her in a very calm, friendly way.

'Lee! Oh my God,' Dorian gasped, moving so fast he almost tripped over the debris scattered around. Glass and metal, window frame and fuck knows what else, but he made it to her. She turned slowly to face him as he approached and _oh God_ , the look in her eyes. 'What—what's—?'

'Not yet, please,' the paramedic said, calm but firm.

'Is she OK?' Dorian asked, something _apocalyptic_ building and swelling inside him because where was Fenris, where was _Cullen_? He looked at the other two ambulances, not seeing either of them perched on the back like Lee was. They were inside then, he prayed, but oh Jesus fucking _Christ_ , the look in her eyes, the _fear_. Leliana was afraid of nothing and no one. Jassen's hands had been around her neck and she'd not shown a _flicker_ of fear.

'Mild contusion here,' the paramedic said to the other. 'No concussion, but this will need a few stitches, though,' he added, touching her forearm which was being bandaged by the other. 'Five more minutes of oxygen, all right?'

Lee tried to take the mask off, but the paramedic put it carefully back on, eyeing her sternly.

'Keep it on and then you'll be able to talk for a bit, OK?'

'Where's Cullen?' Dorian heard himself ask. 'Fenris?'

'The bodyguard is in here,' the woman said, taking him by the arm and leading him away. 'I recognised you,' she told him quietly, guiding him expertly through the wreckage and past another _body_ , covered in a sheet, but that did precious little to hide the dead blood soaking through. 'I need you to stay calm, all right? There's photographers and journalists everywhere.'

His teeth were chattering, heart beating so fast it was _hurting_. 'Are they OK? Please just—'

'The bodyguard is in a bad way, but they said they stabilised him.' She stopped at the foot of the ambulance and Dorian was going to fucking _pass out_ if the next words out of her mouth were not about Cullen. 'He hasn't spoken yet. There is no sign of the man he was guarding, Cullen Rutherford.'

'N-no sign?'

'He's not in the car, not under one of the sheets, either,' she promised him quietly. 'No one here aside from these two is alive.'

Dorian tried to speak but his breath got violently, horribly _caught._ The woman helped him up into the back of the ambulance. Fenris was not sat upright like Lee, but he had an oxygen mask over his mouth, laid flat out on a narrow bed, unconscious.

And as Dorian moved closer, cataloguing what injuries he could make out, the cyclone of everything _bad_ inside him turned to a fucking _hurricane_.

Fenris was hurt. He was more than hurt, he was fucking beat to _shit._ There was blood everywhere, over his face, his neck, his chest, his arms and especially, on his _hands_. They had cut his t-shirt off, revealing sticky drying blood over the skin there, marring the white lines as were several wide gashes, currently patched up.

The wounds on his chest were not from the car wreck.

'He was shot,' the woman informed him quietly. 'Shoulder wound there and a nasty graze on the side of his face. Before that, he was—'

'Fighting them off,' Dorian filled in, knowing why there were so many bodies outside. So many polka dotted sheets. 'Protecting Cullen and Lee.'

'Does he have additional security?' she asked seriously. 'People who would take him away, Cullen, I mean?'

Dorian shook himself, trying to think but it was almost impossible, looking at all the blood covering his friend. 'I uh… yes,' he croaked. 'Yes, he has security other than… than Fenris, obviously, but they're… they would have…'

'We need to find him. Can you call them?'

He felt very small then. Like a child.

'I—I don't know how, I'm sorry. Is there…' his breath gave again, like he’d missed a step. 'Is there CCTV footage? Who took him? Where?'

'We're looking into that right now,' she assured him, but it was far from soothing.

Dorian looked back at his friend's still form. 'You need to wake him up. He's the only one who can help Cullen now.'

'If he's really been taken, the country will launch a national manhunt to find him. He's Cullen Rutherford, after all.'

Dorian couldn't focus on things like that, could only see and feel the moment in front of him. 'When can you wake him?'

A paramedic looked up, frowning. 'He needs treatment at a hospital. The blood loss alone is—'

'No, you have to wake him up. He'd want you to.'

'I feel confident he'd want us to save his life. He's lost a massive amount of blood, he has a _bullet_ still lodged in his shoulder, plus a serious slice right across his intestines.'

'Wake him up before you take him, then,' Dorian insisted hollowly, feeling sick even as he said it because he fucking _loved_ Fenris, but the man lying there on that narrow bed would never forgive himself if something happened to Cullen while he was unconscious. 'Please. _Please_. He's the only one who might know where Cullen has been taken, what—what _happened_ here.'

The paramedics seemed torn, sharing a brief glance.

'Are you kin?'

'I am,' said Lee from behind them. Dorian turned and pulled her up, her hand wrapping around his. 'I'm his wife. He would want us to wake him. Cullen was taken, this was a hit with the sole purpose to _take_ him. Fenris's job is guarding him.' Lee swallowed hard, face mussed with thin trails of blood, of grime and fresh tear tracks. She fixed the paramedics with the kind of determination Dorian knew she commanded like no other. 'Wake him up.'

Taking precautions, they injected Fenris with something that slowly had him rousing, responding when they snapped their fingers.

'Good,' they encouraged. 'Nice and slow now, Fenris. Can you open your eyes for us?'

'I need a phone,' Lee said, looking around, trying to blink away the daze. 'He's going to want to call people. Mine was smashed to fuck.'

Dorian fumbled for his, hands about as useful as raw sausages.

'You can use my phone,' the smartly dressed officer on the scene said. Dorian still didn't know her name, didn't know if it _mattered,_ but he was grateful to her then.

Leliana took the phone with trembling hands. 'Thank you.'

Fenris's eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy for barely a _second_ before they widened and he began to sit up.

'No, no, you need to stay laying down, Fenris, all right?'

'You've been seriously hurt here, you can't—'

Fenris pulled the oxygen mask off, taking a few deep, wheezing breaths, rubbing his eyes. He looked around, digesting the scene, looked down at his own body and swore quietly in a language Dorian didn't know.

'He's gone?'

'We—we can't find him,' Dorian said, because he could not shape that _word,_ could not let it apply to Cullen.

Fenris closed his eyes hard, mouth in a tight, jagged line. 'Lee, call this number.' He read out a mobile number and she dialled it, lightning quick.

'Fenris,' the paramedic warned calmly. 'I want you to take nice, slow breaths for us, please. We _will_ sedate you if we have to.'

'He doesn't need sedation,' Lee hissed at them, handing the phone over when it started to ring.

Fenris took it, eyes still closed and held it to his ear.

'Anders,' he said. 'We've been hit. Lock them both down and then find me. Bring a full kit, plus the blue.'

He hung up, giving it back to Lee, exhaling slow and measured.

'Who took him?' the officer asked.

Fenris met Dorian's gaze. 'It wasn't Jassen.'

'How can you—?'

'It just wasn't. This was a big, public, clumsy thing out in the open, in broad daylight with— _ahh!_ ' he hissed, clutching his stomach suddenly, though he recovered, shaking his head at the paramedics. 'With ineffective hired muscle. The whole… thing was a mess. They only _got_ him because they… tasered me.'

His breath was coming short and his hand where he'd clutched his stomach came away red.

'Right, that’s enough,' the paramedic said. 'Mask on, lay down, we're _going,_ no arguments. Does one of you want to come with him?'

'You go,' Dorian said to Lee before she had a chance to answer. 'I'll meet you there. What hospital—?'

'St Thomas's,' Lee and Fenris answered at the same time, with the same note of thinly veiled despair. 'It's nearest,' Lee clarified, pushing her hands through her hair. 'We'll meet you there, OK? Can you call Rosalie? Let her know.'

The words she was saying made sense, but they also _didn't_. Dorian was struggling with the urge to turn and press his face into Cullen's neck, to wrap himself around his boyfriend and seek comfort for this horrible thing except…

_Except_ Cullen was gone. Taken. Missing.

'Uh, yeah,' he made himself answer, backing out of the ambulance carefully. 'S-see you there.'

He watched the ambulance pull away, lights and sounds blaring.

'I'm DCI Clarel De Chanson,' the woman beside him with the short grey hair said. 'I can give you a lift to the hospital if you want?'

Dorian was in no fit state to refuse.

*

_Dorian's laughter was the kind where he couldn't actually catch his_ breath, _where it was all just one great inhale, one long, shuddering exhale as he bent double in Lee's kitchen and Cullen, sighed, pretending not to laugh in turn, wiping butter cream off of his face._

_'Should have known,' he said, voice shaking with mirth. 'When you offered to help.'_

_Tears were in Dorian's eyes when he looked up, finally having enough in his lungs to howl like he needed to, to fucking_ laugh _so hard it hurt his ribs, made them sore._

_'I didn't_ _… mean… to do that!' he managed._

_Cullen wiped it off but he was wiping it everywhere too, up in to his hairline and Dorian's hands were messy, sticky and wet from the butter cream he'd scooped up and lobbed right at Cullen._

_Everyone was cracking up, Alistair filming the whole thing because he'd_ dared _him and really, was Dorian twelve? But he didn't care, couldn't bring himself to think of anything except Cullen's face when he'd thrown that handful from the bowl._

_'Oh yeah?' Cullen said, grinning wolfishly as he dipped his own hands in the bowl, the oven, almost done with the sponges for Dorian's birthday cake, filling the air with the most heavenly smell. 'Like I didn't mean to do_ this _?'_

_Dorian barely had time to duck._

*

He called Rosalie, got the words out. Told her the car had been attacked, Cullen had been taken. Fenris was hurt. Lee was more or less OK. They were going to St Thomas's. When he said it aloud, some of it actually began to sink in, barely an inch, but still.

Cullen was gone. Cullen had been taken by bad people.

The knowledge was ringing in Dorian's ears, slowly gutting him but he just couldn't _feel it_ , couldn't believe it.

He called Thom, told him the same thing again. Thom, when Dorian denied his offer of help at the hospital, offered to go watch the girls at his loft. Dorian thanked him and hung up.

The whole way there, all he could think of was what Cullen was thinking, feeling, seeing, _going through_. Was he conscious? Was he hurt?

'Are you going to be sick?' Clarel asked when they pulled up in a small, private car park. 'Because now's the time.'

'No,' he said, swallowing the worst of it down. He'd been strong before, he could be strong again. 'No, I'm fine.'

She managed a watery smile. 'Let's go, then.'

*

_'You need a hat,' Cullen said. 'It's October. You need a hat.'_

_'It is the first day of October, it didn't get cold overnight in accordance with the Christian calendar, darling.'_

_'Daddy says I need a hat,' Sophia said while Fenris zipped up her coat, knelt before her, hair freshly plaited by him._

_'It's cold,' Cullen told Dorian, holding out a woolly white hat with a bobble on the top, pretty gaze both expectant and amused._

_Dorian sighed, rolling his eyes, but he pulled it on. 'Happy now?’_

_Cullen seemed besotted. 'Beautiful.'_

_'You just want to see me look dorky.'_

_'No, I just want to see you warm and safe, all snug and—'_

_'Dorky.'_

_'Am I dorky?' Sophia asked and Lee, holding a hefty thermos of tea, handing Fenris the picnic basket when he stood, looked aghast._

_'You? Dorky? Never, my darling. You are perfection, look at you! See, you're all matching! Dory is_ _…' she shot him a bemused look, teasing. 'Definitely not matching.'_

_Cullen wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist, kissing his nose._

_'You need a whole new winter wardrobe,' he muttered and Dorian, despite being mildly offended about being made to wear such a hat, held him the same way. Easy intimacy born of familiarity and repetition, of love and trust. 'Lots of jumpers and big coats, I think.'_

_'Weird new kink, but I'm on board,' Dorian whispered, low and secret. 'All right,' he added louder, kissing Cullen with a sense of finality. 'Let's go to the park!'_

*

In the lift going up to the third floor, there stood a man with a half up half down ponytail of strawberry blond hair. He carried a large satchel over his bomber jacket, had a pierced ear and wore snake skin boots. He seemed eager for the lift to hurry up. Dorian looked at him for a long moment before he just kind of _blurted out_ , 'Anders?'

The man looked at him, brows lifting in mild surprise.

'I know you?'

'I'm—I'm Cullen's boyfriend, Fenris's friend.'

'Oh, of course you are!' he said, eyes widening. 'Yes, I've seen you before a few times. Sorry, my mind is elsewhere, y'know?'

Dorian didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

'You're the man he called?' Clarel asked warily.

'Yeah,' Anders answered, adjusting the strap of his heavy, black satchel. 'How did you recognise me?'

'He—' Dorian said, clearing his throat. 'Told me a bit about you.'

Anders' _not smile_ turned slightly sad but the doors opened and there was no more time for standing about.

'This way,' Anders said. 'He's in room six.'

'How do you know that?'

Anders shrugged and told Clarel, 'I know a lot.' He glanced at her over his shoulder, a quick up and down, frowning. 'You with the Met?'

'Yes.'

'You don't dress like it.'

The older woman mildly scowled. 'I dress how I like, that doesn't affect my ability to do my work. Another man, another gatekeeper.'

Anders snorted. 'I am _anything_ but a gatekeeper, love.'

'Sophia is safe?' Dorian asked under his breath as he fell into step beside the man.

'Her and the mother, completely untouchable for twenty four hours. I ran the scanners on the way here. Whole country's about to go crazy with the news your boyfriend’s been kidnapped. Sorry about that.'

Dorian looked ahead. 'I don't care about the news.'

'I meant—'

'I know what you meant.'

'It's in here.'

They swerved into a small unit, requesting access through a buzzer and were permitted entry.

Anders glanced at the chart. 'Bed two, c'mon.'

Fenris was sat up in bed, shirtless with a thin, dark IV running into his arm. A blood transfusion, Dorian supposed and someone on his left, a doctor maybe, was stitching him up.

'…lucky the bullet didn't shatter, but this will need time to actually _heal_ , Mr Cohen.'

Fenris winced. 'Don't call me that.' Then he caught sight of them and his shoulders sagged with the smallest amount of relief. 'Dorian, you OK?'

He meant _not hurt_ , so Dorian nodded, trying to smile and failing dismally.

'Hey, man,' Anders greeted, pulling his satchel off his shoulder. 'What, you got into a fight with a bloody SUV? Jesus.'

Fenris said, 'More or less. You bring it?'

'Course,' Anders said, looking at the doctor. 'This is my patient now. Step away so I can tend to him.'

The doctor, a bald man with sharp eyes and a thin mouth, gave Anders a mildly appalled look. 'Excuse me?'

Anders, stood there in God damned _snake skin boots,_ didn't seem remotely fazed. 'Move.'

'I will _not_ , this man requires medical attention and he—'

With a sigh, Anders shoved something towards him, a wallet, open faced with some kind of identification inside of it. The bald man glowered when he looked back up from whatever it was he'd been shown.

'Very well. But do not _linger_ in my ward. Your kind are not welcome, even if I must permit you to stay.'

Anders smiled blandly. 'Close the curtain behind him, Dorian, thanks.'

Once the doctor left, the area given the illusion of privacy by a flimsy curtain, Dorian moved forward and took Fenris's hand. 'How are you? You all right?'

'I'm fine,' he said, gripping hard for a moment. 'Lee just went to the bathroom. She's making all kinds of calls. Anders, I— why is she here?'

The suspicious glare he levelled at Clarel served to remind Dorian that she was even _there_. 'Oh, she drove me here. She's all right.'

'OK, but why is she _here?_ They haven't even released a missing person’s report for him yet.'

'They're waiting on my word,' Clarel said. 'I wanted to know how you preferred to frame it.'

Dorian blinked. 'Frame it?'

'Make it seem that we know less than we do, or _more_. They'll be watching to see how we proceed,' she explained calmly. 'I thought it best to defer to Cullen's head of security at this time.'

Anders rubbed his hands with sanitiser and began pulling away the wadded bandages, examining Fenris's wounds. 'Idiot,' he muttered fondly. 'This one's nicked your intestines.'

Fenris ground his teeth as Anders prodded him none too gently. 'So _sort it_ , then.'

'I will. It's been badly stitched, though. Christ. These people.' He pulled out what looked like a shaving foam cannister except it was plain metal. He sprayed a thick, squelchy amount of shock white foam in a line over Fenris's wounds.

Dorian wrinkled his nose at the smell; vinegar and acetone with a hint of something like ozone. Fenris gripped his hand harder. 'What is that?'

'My very own creation,' Anders said, applying it all over the wounds, paying extra care to get the foam _inside_ the bullet hole in Fenris's shoulder. 'Think of it like a thickening agent. Coagulates the blood, speeds up healing, energises the skin to encourage closing. It's handy as fuck.'

'Why doesn't everyone use it?'

Fenris and Anders glanced at one another quickly. 'It's… very draining,' Anders explained cautiously. 'It usually puts the patient into a kind of temporary coma to permit the advanced healing and avoid excess strain on their heart.'

'You're going into a _coma_?'

'No,' Fenris assured him.

'I will administer an anaphylactic antagonist, my own creation again. We call it the blue. It will counteract the effects and give him a massive boost. For at least twelve to fifteen hours,' he added, inclining his head.

'I've heard of these things,' Clarel said darkly. 'Super soldier serums and the like.'

Anders sighed. 'Civilians really have nothing better to do with their time than make up stories. Fucking _Tory_ propaganda, I suppose.'

Fenris looked up at Dorian, even as his pupils went wide, his skin became clammy and cool. 'We're going to find him and get him back,' he promised Dorian. 'No matter what.'

'I don't think this is right,' Clarel was saying as Fenris's jaw went lax, as his eyes rolled back. 'Look at him, he's not—'

'He's _fine_ ,' Anders insisted. 'I'd die before I let anything happen to him and he's strong, been through this before.'

Fenris's hand slipped from Dorian's, head lolling to the side and Anders reached up, touched his cheek, then his forehead. 'I need a couple of minutes. Everyone out,' he said softly, glancing at Dorian. 'Even you.'

What choice did he have but to trust the man who Fenris trusted?

He and Clarel left Fenris's bedside, closing the curtain behind them again. The others in the ward were looking at them, watching blearily and Dorian couldn't stand it. He headed out into the corridor, bumping right into Lee.

'Oh, you're here,' she said in a shockingly normal voice. 'That's good. Is Anders—?'

'He's in there with him,' Dorian said. 'Told us to give him a few minutes.'

'Right, OK. A few minutes, that's good. Right.'

Dorian didn't ask if she, herself, was OK because what a stupid fucking question that was, but she was shockingly pale and visibly jittery.

'Who were you calling?'

'Oh,' she said, looking down at the phone, not hers, some basic model. 'Everyone. Everyone who can help us, that is. Assembling the masses. Asking for um, advice,' she added in a quieter voice, looking down. 'We've never really thought of what to do, if something like this happened. We should have, _I_ should have. He's so famous but I always…' her voice cracked. 'He always had Fenris and I didn't think anything could—'

'Hey, this is not your fault,' Dorian told her, touching her shoulder. 'This is no one's fault and they… these people, they _took_ him, they didn't kill him and leave him so that must mean he's valuable, right? They're gonna call and make demands and Fenris will—he'll find them, we'll find them and get him back.'

'You make it sound so simple.'

'Until we know otherwise, that's how we have to think of it.'

'Yes, I suppose so. I just keep thinking of…' she trailed off, looking sick. 'Sorry.'

Dorian knew it was something he didn't want to hear, but perverse insistence that he learn what he'd _missed_ insisted otherwise.

'Tell me.'

'He—Cullen, he tried to fight them. I keep seeing it. I couldn't _move_ from the car. My belt was on and my body was just…' she looked down at her hands. 'Like a boneless fish. Useless. Fenris was out there, protecting him, covering him and fighting them back, killing them and I was still strapped into the fucking _car,_ even when they tasered him, when they _took_ Cullen.'

'You wouldn't have been able to stop them,' he promised her, throat thick like a fist was curled around his oesophagus. 'If Fenris couldn't—'

'I need him back,' she uttered, eyes closing as her expression crumpled. 'We need him back, I can't… not without him. Fuck.'

Dorian pulled her into his arms, didn't know what else to do.

'We'll get him back,' he promised her, same way Fenris had done. 'We're gonna get him back and Cullen, he's… he's strong.'

'He is,' she croaked, voice muffled against his shoulder. 'He can be strong for us, be smart. He knows Fenris will come for him.'

'He does. We just have to hold it together, that's all. Just for now.'

She sniffed loudly, drawing away. 'I can do that.'

Dorian thumbed away her tears. 'Fucking right you can.'

With a wet, weak laugh, she inhaled deeply, steadying herself. 'OK. Let's go see what the crack is.'

*

_'Are you awake?'_

_Cullen stirred, breathing deeply, a sudden rush of air disturbing his REM cycle and Dorian had his answer, but he didn't feel_ too _bad about it, not when Cullen reached for him, rubbing his shoulders, face, pulling them closer._

_'Definitely dreaming,' he muttered sleepily. 'Gorgeous man in my gorgeous new bed. Can't be real. You OK?'_

_'Trouble sleeping.'_

_The face he made, all concerned and adorable, sitting up on one elbow._

_'Wanna get up?'_

_Dorian batted his guilt back and forth. 'Maybe.'_

_It was so easy, the way Cullen smiled. Wasn't angry, wasn't resentful, didn't even ask what time it was. 'Hot chocolate?' he offered, reaching for Dorian's dressing gown, wrapping it around himself and Dorian knew, with absolute certainty what he was getting Cullen (among other things) for Christmas that year._

_'Yes please.'_

_'And then sofa cuddles?'_

_Following him out into the living room, which still smelled faintly of paint and thai food, two walls not remained incomplete and leftover takeout in the microwave._

_'If you like,' Dorian said, unable to yet front it, to make light of his request to not sleep, to not lie awake with anxiety and worry, weirdly_ missing _Cullen when he was asleep._

_'How about,' Cullen said, warming to his theme as he poured milk in a small saucepan. 'Tomorrow I call in sick and we stay home all day, watch trashy nineties movies and make super unhealthy food. A lot of bacon, I'm thinking.'_

_Shyness ebbing, Dorian followed him into the kitchen. Cullen added chunks of real chocolate to the milk, none of that powdered nonsense for him and Dorian let himself exhale, anchoring in Cullen's steady, unflinching strength. From behind, he slid his arms around his own dressing gown, around Cullen's middle, leaning into him, lowering his cheek to Cullen's shoulders and closing his eyes._

_Cullen's hand covered his, warm press of his temple to Dorian's head before he resumed his conversation about how amazing tomorrow was going to be, just the two of them, no mention of news, of papers, of stories, of_ exes _. Just the two of them on a stolen Thursday, alone and safe, together and happy._

_Dorian knew then that Cullen, that this way of being, of holding, of letting go because he would always be caught_ _… it was_ home _._

*

Fenris was up and dressed into a change of clothes that Anders produced from his miracle satchel. It was an outfit unlike any Dorian had ever seen Fenris wear, even when in full bodyguard duties. Black tactical gear, cargo pants, tucked into steel toed jackboots. He pulled a black vest over his undershirt, some kind of fibre Dorian had never seen before. The vest was lightweight, not as many front pockets as he'd been expecting for this kind of thing. It was padded, obviously bulletproof.

Anders strapped him into it, adjusting the clasps at the back. He and Lee had not spoken save for a quick _hello_ back and forth.

Fenris was alert and keyed up, nothing about him seemed injured or tired, not like he'd been before. The last thing he put on were twin pairs of light, black metal hand straps; a cross between fingerless gloves and knuckle dusters. He tested them out, making a fist and tapping a small button on the side, resulting in tiny, sharp knife points popping out from each of the knuckles.

'Good,' he said, pushing the button to retract them. 'Extra cannister?’

‘In the pack, along with another shot _if_ you need it, but two in a row is some seriously fucked shit, you know that.'

Fenris seemed entirely unconcerned. 'I won't need it.'

'You might, so make sure you inject into your stomach, not a vein.'

'I know the drill.'

Dorian thought maybe he should be afraid of the cold steel in Fenris's eyes, of the way he laced his boots with fingers that were steady, with knuckles that were lethal, in the kind of outfit he was undeniably going to kill people in, but he knew Fenris, he trusted him. It just made him feel safer, more confident they would get Cullen back.

Lee was looking down at the phone. 'It's breaking. News alert all across the world. Thank you, officer,' she added, looking at Clarel with a distanced, measured stare.

Clarel de Chansons nodded. 'Of course.'

'You should leave now,' Fenris told her. 'I don't care what comes after, you can arrest me then or whatever you need to do, but you're not getting in the way.'

'Who says I want to get in the way?'

'You're _official_ ,' Anders said, hint of a sneer. 'Never trust the _old bill_.'

Clarel dug in. 'I care about getting this man back.'

Anders, Fenris and Lee were all watching her. 'Why?'

'Because he's a _human_ ,' she said stoutly. 'I don't need a reason to help you, if you're stupid enough to refuse someone to get you through police tape, that's on you.'

Fenris and Anders shared another glance, Anders nodding this time.

'Fine, you can come. No getting in the way.'

Dorian didn't know if that was _normal_ , but again, it was hard to care.

Lee asked, 'Where do we start?'

'Anders and I are going to the scene. He can hack local CCTV from there and—'

'I have the CCTV,' Clarel interrupted, clearly determined to prove her worth. 'Here.'

She offered them her phone.

'You tracked the van?' Lee asked.

'Into Blackwall tunnel, not beyond. There was likely a switch.'

'Not especially smart,' Fenris commented, speeding through the footage. 'I don't recognise any of them, do you?'

He showed Anders the screen, zooming in with a pinch. Dorian couldn't see, but he assumed it was footage of the crash, of the fight.

Of Cullen being snatched from the world.

'You know me, I'm shite with faces.'

Dorian was messaging Sera, telling her to hole up with Rosalie at his place, telling them not to contact him unless it was an emergency.

'Wait, who's that one?' Fenris said. 'Go back. I didn't see him.'

'He's driving the van, you wouldn't have—'

'Yeah, but you can see his face here, look.' Fenris's eyes widened slightly, his pupils mere pinpricks. 'Well, fuck.'

Lee craned around them to see the screen. 'What?'

'It's… the guy,' Fenris said, looking up at Dorian. 'From Prague.'

*

_Dorian opened his eyes, stretching languidly like a cat, his body pleasantly sore and worn in all the best ways and beside him, the bed was absent of Cullen, but there was a note on the half made covers, a small box beneath it. Blinking rapidly as he sat up, Dorian took the note, unfolding it._

Baby, I had to leave all of a sudden, some drama with the court case, nothing to worry about. Couldn't bear to wake you and I got this for you a few days ago, hope you like it enough to forgive me for not being there. Text me all day so when I get out of this stupid bullshit tonight, I'll be flooded by you.

Cullen xxx

_Dorian sighed, bittersweet and only a bit sad he would be without Cullen all day, but he drew the box closer, flat and small,_ not a ring box _, his brain warned his ridiculous heart._

_He opened it, sitting up fully and inside was a brand new memory card and another note._

Kitchen, _it read, Cullen's gorgeous handwriting making Dorian want to keep it forever, put it in his wallet and remember the day._

_He padded out of bed, rubbing his eyes, carrying the box, the note and the memory card, still encased in plastic. On the countertop of the kitchen sat a beautifully wrapped box, all pretty paper and bows, the way Dorian was learning to use. Beside it, sat a box of four bakery delights, Dorian's favourites from that little place down the road that was going out of business in a few weeks._

_He opened the box, reassuringly heavy and when he saw the word_ Nikon _, he was already beaming._

_‘Motherfucker.’_

*

They let Dorian watch the footage on Clarel's phone as Anders drove, heading down one way systems the wrong way, giving precisely zero fucks.

He sat in the back with Lee and Clarel, clutching the phone, watching it play out from the uncaring viewpoint of a stationary camera.

The Sentinel turned right and a white van came smashing into it from the side, hitting the front part. The speed of the van and the way it sent the car sideways had the wheels catching on the island beside it, making the car flip over twice. The van then reversed and ploughed into the car again, driving it halfway into a shop front this time.

Men poured out from the van, not as heavily armed as Fenris, but dressed similarly. Dorian watched, for the second time, as Fenris crawled out of the car as the first wave moved in, not using guns yet, just a swift, hefty crew of six.

Dorian saw him fight, saw him do things he wouldn't think possible. Watched him kill men with his bare hands, watched them get the guns from those stupid enough to have them and use them against them.

He watched Cullen get out of the car, move around the other side despite Fenris turning and yelling something. It was all _silent_ to Dorian. No sound, obviously, but he could tell Fenris had yelled _loud_.

Cullen ignored that, helped him. Used his strength, got in a few decent punches and there was one moment, one moment where Fenris and Cullen were back to back, brothers in arms and it was… just _astonishing._

But it was only for a moment. Two men who'd cleverly hung back, using the van as partial cover fired tasers at Fenris, who didn't go down after the first one, but bent double, dropping hard when the second one hit. The remaining four men swarmed then, grabbed Cullen even as he fought, hit them, knocked a couple of them down and Fenris wasn't unconscious either, he was still trying to get to his feet, to protect him but he couldn't.

One of the man with tasers fired a gun, the bullet hit Fenris in the shoulder and Cullen fought all the harder to get free, but it was no use, none at all. They dragged him into the side of the van and it sped off as the doors slid shut.

Dorian handed the phone back, mutely nodding.

'Where are we going?'

'You and Lee can work from her place,' Fenris said.

'No.'

'Dorian, you can't come with us. I need you to stay with Lee, assemble what we need, people who can—'

'I'm coming with you.'

Fenris sighed and Anders said, 'You'll just get hurt.'

_You'll slow us down_ , was what Dorian heard.

'I can’t sit there and do nothing.'

'You won't,' Lee assured him. 'We can run ground control from my place. First thing we need to do is see where they tossed Cullen's bracelet.'

Of course they would cut his bracelet off. It made Dorian sick to think of his boyfriend's wrist without that soft, reassuring mainstay.

'We need to download our phone accounts onto new ones as well, sign into the systems and such,' Lee said, nodding to herself. 'Is Josie safe?'

'Rosalie called her, warned her,' Dorian said. 'Rosalie and the girls are at mine with Thom.'

Fenris nodded. ‘That’s good. Your place is Fort Knox.’

'You can use my phone,' Anders offered. 'It's secure.'

‘Sophia’s definitely safe, isn't she?' Dorian asked again, leaning forward slightly, heart tightening even though he knew what the answer would be, just needed to hear it one more time.

'Sophia is completely safe,' Anders said, taking a sharp right into oncoming traffic, dodging cars with ease as they headed into Kensington, Clarel muttering curses under her breath.

'And you're sure this wasn't Jassen?' Dorian couldn't help but persist. 'Because he could have used people like this to cover his own arse, to make sure he wasn't implicated. His face is known to the police, there's still that footage online of you and him fighting. Maybe he was just—'

'It wasn't him,' Fenris said. 'He wouldn't risk hurting Cullen like that, by ramming the car. I see what you're saying, that he could have hired people but I just don't think he would do it this way. It doesn't feel right.'

Dorian nodded, swallowing. 'I trust your instincts.'

'Then you'll go with Lee and the both of you will be ground control, yes?'

It fucking _hurt_ not to be going with them, not to be headed out into the action. It stung and it set up shop, that pain, right in Dorian's gut, but he knew it was for the best. He would slow them down.

'Yeah.'

'Thank you.'

'The van has no registration,' Clarel said. 'But I managed to back-trace it to a warehouse in Bermondsey. You should start there.'

Both Fenris and Anders shared a tiny flicker of a glance again as the small car ploughed onward.

'Thank you,' Anders said. 'You'll be helping with the ground operation?'

'If I can, yes.'

'Great stuff.'

She snorted delicately. 'Thought I was the enemy.'

'You're the instrument of an order we don't answer to,' Fenris's friend said lightly, turning into Lee's street. 'An archaic relic long since corrupted and polluted by capitalism.'

'And you're a soldier,' Clarel replied stoutly. 'If I'm the long arm of the law, you're the _weapon_ in hand.'

'I'm a knife, all right,' he said. 'But I choose which way I point, thanks.'

'Who can afford you, you mean.'

'I'm not a _Merc_ , if that's what you think.'

Clarel stared out of the window as it started to rain. 'I know what you are.'

The car rolled to a stop and Dorian got out quickly, the rain lightly hitting his face like tiny, icy pinpricks and the air was so cold, it caught in his throat.

'Are we splitting up here?'

'No,' Fenris said. 'There's things I have to get from inside and I need my phones. We'll go from here to the warehouse once I’m fully kitted out. Lee, what's happening on the news?'

'They're reporting he's missing, not taken.'

'That's good. The more we can minimise it, the better.'

Dorian was almost entirely absent from his consciousness when they stood in the lift, going up quietly and quickly. He'd entered into some kind of Stepford-esque autopilot, unable to captain himself without falling to fucking _pieces_ under the weight of such abject terror.

He didn't know what he was going to actually _do_ once they got into Lee's place, how he would help, but he would do whatever he could, whatever was necessary. All he _could_ do in the moment, was be there, rely on the strength of others while he fought for solid ground.

_Deep breaths,_ he told himself. _You can do this. You can be strong for him, for Cullen._

The elevator door opened with a silky swish and before anyone could step out, Dorian - and Fenris, judging by the way he _froze_ \- caught sight of a man leaning against Leliana's door.

Jassen had absolutely no humour about him as he stared at them.

'We need to talk.'

*

_'Play us something sweet,' Lee requested softly, head in Fenris's lap while he stroked her hair and Sera helped Dorian research different kinds of tea - his current obsession - and Cullen sat on the floor, surrounded by pages from his notebooks, three different pens, guitar in his lap, knee high socks pulled over his joggers as was his weirdly adorable wont._

_'New?' he offered, taking the pen from his mouth, fingers of one hand going high to make chords, others grabbing a pick._

_'Mmm,' Lee said, eyes closing as she faced upwards. 'Yes please.'_

_'It's rough,' Cullen prefaced, but he didn't sound so nervous. Dorian clicked his phone off, set it down and Sera pulled their blanket up high, leaning together like best friends who had to huddle for warmth. 'But OK.'_

_'Working title?' Fenris asked, his fingers running through Lee's hair in a strangely hypnotic rhythm._

_'Uh,' Cullen said, blushing only a tiny bit, dusky pink flooding gently into the sides of his cheeks and the curve of his upper ears and later, Dorian was going to lavish attention and praise on him the likes of which would require anyone staying over to wear ear plugs. 'Might call it_ "Five More Minutes", _not sure yet.'_

_Dorian smiled again when Fenris shot him a knowing smirk but they said nothing; appreciative, comfortable silence reigning as they waited for Cullen to play, to_ sing _to them, as Lee had asked, as she often did._

_When it began, Dorian's heart seized, well attuned to the magic of Cullen’s voice, but always affected by it so freshly._

*

Fenris didn't move a muscle, didn't allow anyone to leave the lift while he stood in front of them, arms outstretched. Anders held the doors of the lift open, watching Jassen.

'This him?' he enquired curiously. 'He's short.'

'I'm here for Cullen,' Jassen said, still leaning with one foot against the door behind him, arms crossed, yet to blink. 'I'm not armed.'

Fenris didn't relax, but he moved forward, stepping out of the lift.

'Take them back down,' he told Anders, but Jassen shook his head. 

'I'm _not_ here for a fight.'

'This is the un-sub?' Clarel asked warily. 'The man from the attack at the Wireless Festival?'

Jassen's cold, reptilian stare slid onto Clarel. 'As a show of _good faith_ ,' he said, everything about it strained and impatient. 'You should know that _she_ is a double agent.'

'We already know that,' Fenris said, unimpressed.

Clarel froze, mouth opening. 'I am _not—'_

_'_ You are not authorised to be working on this case and you were there before the scene was even secured,' Anders told her. 'DCI's are _never_ there before the scene is secure.'

'I work for the Metropolitan police, you arrogant shit!'

'Yes, you do,' Fenris agreed calmly, never taking his gaze off of Jassen. 'But you were told in advance of the attack, got there to guide us away from what might actually be useful and then report back whenever possible.'

Dorian and Lee moved away from her to the other side of the lift, but really, their choices of where the _fuck_ to go just then were pretty terrible.

'This-this is all _lies_ ,' she insisted. 'How could you even—?'

'Your phone was the one that called me,' Anders said. 'I hacked it. Just a standard hack, mind. Linking your numbers to known criminals and such. A child could have done it.'

She stared at Fenris. 'You suspected, but let me come along?'

'I thought it would be useful to see where you tried to point us. Possibly extract information from you later if need be.'

'OK,' Jassen said, hint of a sulk around his mouth as he rolled his eyes. 'It was _still_ a show of good faith, regardless. Can I come in or not?'

'You think I'm going to let you into my property?' Leliana fairly hissed.

'You're not thinking clearly. Why would I come here, corner myself like this when I know there's _two_ who can most definitely kill me?' He spoke directly to Fenris, barely paying attention to anyone else. 'You almost had me beat last time. No way I'd survive with two of you. I am here for _Cullen_. I'm…' he ground his jaw, nose furling. 'Here to _help_.'

'We don't need your help.'

'Yes, you do.'

'Tell me why?'

'Inside.'

'No.'

' _Yes_. And kill the old woman first.'

Clarel, in a fit of ill-timed panic, started frantically mashing the ground floor button.

'I'm not _killing_ her,' Fenris said. 'She could be useful.'

'She's a _plant_. She knows _nothing_. Kill her or I will. You've already let her stay too long. She's sent two messages since being with you, both of them to an encrypted number. Kill her so we can _talk_!'

'You're not giving orders here,' Anders reminded him, hand still on the side of the lift to prevent Clarel's attempts.

Jassen seemed impatient. 'Well?'

' _If_ you restrain yourself.'

'You'll kill her?'

'No, but we'll restrain her too,' Fenris said, looking over his shoulder at Anders, giving him a tiny nod.

Anders finally took his hand off the lift and elbowed Clarel hard in the face. Dorian instinctively pulled Lee into his arms, the pair of them moving away. Clarel made a pained sound and then dropped, sliding down the side of the elevator.

Jassen was weighing it up, Dorian could tell. Eventually, he took a cautious step forward, hands outstretched.

'Mercy is weakness.'

'Not always.'

'Always.'

Fenris tossed him a thick, black cable tie he'd pulled out of his flak jacket. Jassen wrapped the strap around both wrists, tightened it with his teeth until it couldn't click anymore. He held his bound wrists out, waiting.

'Bring her in,' Fenris said to Anders. 'You two, go downstairs.'

'No,' Jassen said firmly. ‘It needs to be all of you.’

'Let's just get inside,' Dorian said, all too aware of how much _time_ had passed, precious minutes bleeding away.

Unwilling, but unable to argue, Fenris said, 'Fine.'

*

_'Baby, I need to stop.'_

_It took Dorian a few seconds to realise what he was saying, lost to sensation and building pressure and that sheer, impossible bliss that was Cullen's hands around his wrists, his weight above him while he fucked him._

_But the moment he opened his eyes, saw distress buried deep, the kind he knew had been hidden and held onto for a while, he pushed to sit up, touching Cullen's face, all concern, desire turned to plain_ love _._

_'What's wrong?' he asked, so out of breath it would have been funny in any other circumstance. Both hands on Cullen's cheeks, he manoeuvred them until they were sitting upright. 'Love, you're shaking all over, what is it? Talk to me, please.'_

_Cullen shook his head, gaze lowered, eyes screwed shut. 'I'm sorry, so sorry, please don't be—I'm sorry.'_

_Dorian tried to think what he'd done wrong, replayed events in his head to no avail. He kissed Cullen's forehead, pulling him against him, nothing sexual about it, not now._

_'It's fine,' he said sweetly, keeping his voice light. 'It's fine, I promise. Please don't say sorry, I love you so much.'_

_It was a deep, ragged breath followed by a tiny sob that had Dorian holding Cullen firmer, pulling him so that Cullen was half in his lap, rocking him very slightly without realising._

_'I'm so sorry,' Cullen said again, quiet and croaky._

_'Don't be sorry, just_ _…' Dorian swallowed back his own tears, because it hurt to see Cullen hurting, no matter the cause. 'Tell me what I did?'_

_His boyfriend made a noise of disgust. 'It was nothing you did,_ nothing. _It's_ _… me. It was me. I'm sorry.'_

_Cullen was so very attached to apologising._

_'What was it?' Dorian asked gently, kissing his ears, the skin beneath them, light and fleeting, stroking his back._

_'It was_ _… I didn't like what I was… doing.'_

_'Darling,' Dorian said, as soft as he could. 'You weren't hurting me, I promise. I'd tell you, you know that.'_

_'I know. It was the way I was_ _… it was all me. Being stupid in my head. I'm sorry, baby, I—please, I promise I'm fine now, I promise.'_

_He tried to kiss Dorian but Dorian stopped him by stroking him, by making a wall of hugs and light kisses that could not catch and hold._

_'Can we talk about it?'_

_A miserable sound preceded Cullen's last ditch attempt to capture Dorian's mouth and kiss him properly, but Dorian stood firm._

_'It's stupid,' he said, realising he wasn't going to succeed._

_'Tell me anyway? If it something_ _… well, I don't want to do it again. Like how I told you I don't like being face down, you remember?'_

_'But this isn't anything you did, it's just_ me _. I didn't like what I was doing.'_

_Dorian tried his very best to follow the logic. 'But we_ _… you like that sometimes, right? Being a little more in control.'_

_Cullen nodded earnestly. 'Sometimes, yeah. Less so when I'm tired.'_

_'Why is that?'_

_'Maybe it's association,' he explained reluctantly, purposefully vague and only the tiniest bit evasive. 'Of past times, in the evenings after work. Sometimes,' he went on clearing his throat, playing with Dorian's fingers as he stared down. 'I was too tired to pay attention, to properly make sure_ _… hm. I don't think I'm explaining it right._

_'There's no right or wrong way to explain it, love.'_

_On the back of a deep breath, Cullen visibly gathered himself. 'I never told you about what Madeline wanted. I think I need to, if that's all right?'_

_Dorian had been waiting for it, had not pushed because he knew all about being pushed before he was ready, but he was so very ready to hear this, another small but important piece of Cullen's life_ before _._

_'Of course.'_

_Dorian slid his fingers right through the space where they fit perfectly, tangled up with Cullen's._

_'OK, well.'_

_*_

Lee tied and gagged Clarel, who was still unconscious while Dorian stood around like a plank of dead wood, about as useful too. He kept wanting to _do things_. To take action, run off and find Cullen himself somehow but… what could he do but defer to those he trusted?

Fenris secured Jassen to a dining chair, one hand on each arm rest. Once he had access to a lockbox from Lee's safe, he retrieved a gun, which he handed to Anders, who stood behind Jassen, guarding him. Fenris then sat opposite Jassen.

Leliana was busy downloading their old contacts to new phones via a military grade laptop, the previous ones lost in the crash and destroyed.

'Cullen's bracelet is inactive, last known location was the Blackwall tunnel,' she said grimly.

‘Typical place to do a transfer. Fritz the cameras and swap him over to people who knew what they were doing. Knew enough to get rid of the bracelet, at any rate.' He looked at Jassen then, fingers interlacing, gaze unswerving. 'Did you know of the attack?'

'Not until it happened, no.'

Fenris's eyebrow lifted. 'Didn't see it coming?'

Jassen didn't like that. 'Neither did _you_.'

'Start talking.'

'The people who took Cullen were paid by and have ties to a shell corporation, Markowitsch Inc. I'll go slow because some of you,' his gaze slid onto Dorian. 'Are a bit slow on the uptake.'

Dorian, despite everything, managed to laugh bitterly. 'I wasn't _slow_ when I clocked what you did to me with the phones.'

'You were slow about _why._ You all were.'

Leliana was watching him over the glowing screen of her laptop, comprehension smoothing out her features. 'Markowitsch Inc is a shell company owned by the Trevelyans.'

Jassen smiled sardonically. 'Bingo, Dino DNA!'

' _They_ did this?' Dorian said, heart lurching. 'They—they fucking _did this?'_

_'_ Can I explain or do I have to keep stopping to hold your hand?'

Fenris said, 'We're listening.'

'Seven months ago, the Trevelyans put a contract out for an infiltrator through the same shell company. They wanted someone to get into _your_ life,' he told Dorian. 'They were still searching when, lo and behold, who should move in with you, but Cullen Rutherford.' Jassen inclined his head. 'This is where our interests converge.'

'Because your interest has always been Cullen,' Fenris said.

Jassen was so blank, horribly _honest_ when he said, 'Yes.'

'You were the one stalking him.'

'I was _protecting_ him.'

'You hacked us.'

'To show you the flaws in your security.'

Fenris couldn't contain the tiny snarl curling his words when he said, 'You broke into his house, _attacked_ him in bed.'

Eyes lifting impatiently, Jassen said, 'I was _always_ in his house, watching over him during the dark hours. Every night when you left and some nights even when you didn't. _That_ one night, he was alone and he was…' the man shifted, throat bobbing slightly as he frowned, expression permeated for the first time. 'Crying out. I made the mistake of trying to comfort him. He woke up, understandably freaked out and I fled. I didn't hurt him.' In a lower voice, passion burning in his coal dark eyes, he added, 'I would _never_ hurt him.'

It made Dorian sick to his stomach, hearing this from the man who had almost fucking _ruined_ Cullen. The strength of his belief, his _conviction._

'You cloned Dorian's phone and leaked the pictures.'

'That,' Jassen said, expression smoothing out once more. 'Was business.'

'You were the Trevelyan's infiltrator?'

Anders looked Jassen up and down. 'He's no infiltrator.'

'Correct, but I fought _very_ hard for the job. Cut down a lot of competition and even took a reduced fee. It had to be me, I couldn't risk anyone else.'

'Why?'

Jassen didn't answer.

' _Why?'_ Fenris pressed. 'It isn't the place of an infiltrator to hurt anyone physically, they're not trained for it.'

'Infiltrators, like spies?' Dorian ventured, trying to keep up.

Anders nodded, while Jassen continued his staring contest with Fenris.

'I couldn't take the risk,' he repeated at length.

Fenris didn't press it that time.

'What did they initially want to learn from Dorian?'

'The contract changed when Cullen came into the picture which was when I took interest. I don't know what their original requests were.'

'What was the contract when you took it?'

'Financial and reputational ruin for Cullen. _Bring him low, make him crawl,_ that was their personal instruction but their true goal was money. Their empire sits atop a sinkhole, propped up with gold plated plasterboards, as I'm sure you now know,' he said, glancing over at Leliana. 'They suspected for a long time about the considerable joint assets of their bastard _cousin_. They'd been watching her, looking for a weakness. It wasn't personal, not really. They just wanted the money. However, it was _very_ personal where you were concerned,' he added, giving Dorian a fleeting kind of up and down. 'The attack in Prague, a goon hired through _Markowitsch._ Someone to rough you up, hurt you. Nothing to be gained from it,' Jassen added with a sigh. 'They just despise you. That was the brother, I'm betting. Max seems to be the more impulsive of the two.'

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, sitting beside Lee. There was a tug of war between his mind and his heart, terrible, agonising thing that he tried to ignore. 'This was all them?'

'They hired me, yes.'

Fenris asked, 'Why did it take you so long? They hired you months ago.'

Jassen smirked. 'I did a terrible job.'

'Why?'

'I _told_ you why. I would never hurt Cullen. I did everything I could to keep you _all_ safe, even though I don't care for any of you, just Cullen. He loves you all, so,' Jassen sighed, long suffering in the extreme. 'Here we are. I did the barest minimum to meet the terms of my contract with the Trevelyans and to prevent them from replacing me. It was going _swimmingly_ until you brought the old man in.'

Dorian's lip curled with revulsion. 'Swimmingly? You nearly _ruined_ him. He almost lost everything, he was drinking, he was—'

' _Believe me_ when I say,' Jassen cut across sharply. 'It was nothing compared to what the Trevelyans actually wanted. They knew all about his stint in rehab and one of their most specific instructions was to get him hooked back on opiates again. They wanted me to set up surveillance in your rooms, film you both while you were fucking and leak _that_.'

'You could be lying,' Lee said, quietly speculative. 'This could all be lies to gain our trust.'

'You'd be stupid to trust me,' he said bluntly. 'But I am no longer contracted by the Trevelyans and my priority is, as it's always been, Cullen.'

Dorian stepped closer, hairs on the back of his neck raising when it caught Jassen's attention. He was so _inhuman_ , like a creature, a predator. The way he turned his head, analysed everyone. It was almost like he was _mimicking_ human movement and speech. It turned Dorian's stomach.

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why is Cullen your priority?'

'Dorian,' Fenris warned mildly. 'We need to focus.'

Jassen's gaze moved over Dorian like a physical touch, so _dense_ , so heavy. 'You know why.'

Dorian was trembling all over, a terrible kind of anger in his bones.

'You don't love him.'

'I do.'

'You _can't_ love, you're not fucking _human_!'

'I am here, strapped to a chair, unarmed, freely giving information that could _destroy_ me,' Jassen said, slow and deliberate. 'What is that, if not love?'

'Obsession, desire, fucking _madness_ , but it's not love!'

Jassen blinked again and then he shrugged. 'It is to me. And you have my help because of it.'

'You haven't actually _helped_ us yet,' Fenris reminded him. 'Do they have him, then? The twins?'

Jassen looked around the room. 'In a way.'

'He's lying,' Anders intoned, watching Jassen from the side. He stood with his hands clasped together, the gun held by the bottom one. Jassen gave an impatient sigh.

'I don't _know_ where he's being held right now. The twins don't have him tied up in their mansion, obviously. They've used the shell company to hire experts, proper ones. Not like the amateurs who made the grab. I don't know Cullen's location, who specifically holds the keys. If I did, I wouldn't be here.'

Fenris's eyes searched Jassen's. 'You _are_ lying about something.'

Jassen gave a weary kind of smirk. 'Old habits.'

'What do you want from us?'

'Your help.'

'To find him?'

'To free him, yes.'

'What are you doing?' Fenris asked, almost curiously. 'There's an element of control in where you're leading us. You're helping us but you're _not_.'

Jassen thrust his jaw. 'I'm helping Cullen.'

'Who do you work for?'

'No one.'

Anders shook his head slowly, glancing at Fenris with a slow blink.

Another lie.

'So, you're freelance then?'

With a touch of annoyance, Jassen said, 'I've been freelance for almost four years now. You're wasting time. We need to get to the twins, lean on them and make them call off the people holding Cullen. I may not know who exactly they are, but their outfit is well known. Absolute professionals. I can't deal with them alone.'

'Tell us what you want, then.'

'The people holding him will wait six hours for contact from their employers. If nothing comes, they'll dispose of whatever or whoever they're holding, regardless of value. These are intermediaries, paid to take and to hold something for a certain amount of time but beyond that, they have no interest in the cargo.'

'You could lean on the twins yourself.'

'Ordinarily, but they'll be especially paranoid, expecting this kind of thing now that they've taken drastic action to ransom a superstar. They have a ton of security and they _know_ me. They _replaced_ me. If they saw me coming, they'd go into lockdown. We can't risk loss of communication with those holding Cullen.' Jassen sighed, gaze sliding to the left. 'I need Dorian.'

Dorian shook himself. 'Sorry?'

'They won't consider you a risk,' Fenris explained, apparently thinking the same thing as Jassen. 'They'll see you coming and open up, assume that you've come to bargain, plead, whatever, but they don't think you're a threat. They could even be expecting you. Come to offer up the loft if you did somehow click it was them. Either way, they won't lock themselves down if it's you at the gates.'

'I… I can do that,' Dorian said, arms around himself, fingers digging in.

'Good. Then we should get moving.'

Fenris stood up. 'Not yet.' He surveyed Jassen in a way that had Dorian's skin breaking out in cold rolling waves of gooseflesh. 'Who replaced you?'

'You won't like it,' he warned.

'Try us.'

'Your nice little _Natalie_. She moved in less than an hour after my cover was blown. I did what I could to prevent her from giving them anything decent over the last few months, but she managed to get your location past me today so they could plan the attack.’

Leliana scowled. 'Traitorous bitch, I can't believe it.'

'You're all too trusting,' Jassen said quietly, lowering his gaze to his lap now, something oddly _guilty_ about him.

Dread curled low in Dorian’s stomach. 'What does that mean?'

‘We need to go to the twins' place up in Knightsbridge. I know they're there and once the sun sets in about half an hour, we can—'

'Why do you think _you're_ coming along?'

Jassen's expression darkened. 'Here we go.'

'I can leave with Dorian right now, get them to retract the order. You can stay here under Anders' watchful eye and steady trigger finger. We don't need you.'

'Go ahead,' Jassen said and even Dorian could taste the tension in the air now. 'Leave me here with your _woman,_ with Clarel, with a loaded weapon. Give me a razor thin opportunity and I'll take it. Do you think I'm so _stupid_ as to not have already hacked the security of this building? That there won't be distractions a-plenty while you're away from your _pack_? All I need is a moment.'

'Shut your _mouth.'_

'Which means your other option is to kill me, here and now.' Jassen sat back, cool and collected. 'You're free to do that. I surrendered my autonomy when I walked in here and offered my help, but we both know I know _more_ than you about this and trust me, there will come a fork in the road and you will _need_ me.'

Fenris shoved his chair back, sending it skittering across Leliana's beautiful, heated marble floor. Lee flinched and Dorian jumped, the sudden noise and movement sending a hot, lancing wave of _alarm_ right to his core. Anders didn't move or react and Clarel snorted, but continued to sleep.

One hand over his eyes, Fenris said, 'You're going to betray us.'

Jassen said, 'No,' and again, Anders shook his head. As if sensing the human lie detector behind him, Jassen huffed, fingers flexing rhythmically like the feelers of a sea anemone. 'You want him back or not?'

Fenris turned and said, 'I can't see what it is you're trying to do, but I am _asking_ you to tell us the truth. Not this mixture of truth and lies, not this clever path somewhere we can't see more than a few feet ahead.'

When Jassen remained impassive, Fenris took three steps closer and then crouched in front of him.

'I know I've fought you before, I could feel it when you slapped me. I know we met in the pit. I know you survived me and for that, if nothing else, I respect you. _Please_. Forgo this. Be honest so we can save him. If you really love him, tell us the truth.'

It was a moment that threatened to buckle, strain cranking higher and higher as Jassen stared back, barely ten inches of space between the two marked men, whose origins had intertwined in their younger years. Fenris had said _please_ and Dorian could feel the emphasis of it, that word he tossed around a dozen times a day but Fenris rarely did.

Jassen seemed to be thinking very fast, considering in the way Fenris often did. A small line dented between his eyes as he reached a grim conclusion, blinking slow. 

'We should get to the Twins.'

Fenris exhaled roughly, abruptly all business once more. 'Then that's what we'll do.'

*

**_Baby, I miss you and it’s awful here. There are people everywhere and they’re not you. What are you up to? How’s your day? Miss you, love you xxx_ **

_My poor darling, I should have come with you. Is it so very terrible? Shall I come bursting in and rescue you? My day is pretty meh without you, although I’m walking with Lana to get her a Slytherin scarf now so that’s less meh xxx_

**_Lol, what? Lana is not a Slytherin. Yes please come bursting in and save me from this motherfucking press conference, dear God, although if you watch it later, you’ll just see me checking my phone all the time and Lee elbowing me. When I get home I’ll make your day way less meh. Blow your mind, how’s that, beautiful? Xxx_ **

_Right? I’ve told her to do the thing online, the proper one, where it’ll tell you. She’s a Hufflepuff at heart but how she longs to join me in the realms of ambition and cunning. I shall come directly, once I get Lana the fraudulent scarf and we get lesser hot chocolates from some place that sadly doesn’t make them the way you do. You blow my mind every day and if you keep on calling me beautiful, you’re gonna get more than your mind blown when you walk through that door xxx_

**_You just made me laugh and someone asked me what was so amusing, like I’m twelve in maths again lol. Baby, we’ve talked about this, you’re not a Slytherin either. You’re, at best, a Slytherclaw and even then, that’s a stretch. How can I not call you beautiful when that’s what you are? And fuck’s sake, now I’m hard under the table, sat in front of the nation’s press. Lee looks like she’s going to murder me xxx_ **

_Maybe you should focus then instead of thinking about little old me, just walking along, mentally planning how when you get home, I’m gonna kiss you until you’re panting, rub the front of your jeans and make you so hard it hurts, then sink to my knees and drag your jeans down only enough to free that big, beautiful cock and tease it with my clever mouth xxx_

**_You are so evil, I swear to God xxx_ **

_But you love me for it xxx_

**_I do, more than you could ever know, baby xxx_ **

_I know, believe me, and when you’re home, I’ll show you. You like it when I show you, don’t you, my darling? Xxx_

**_Yes of course, Christ, I’m going to have to stop and focus. Love you so much. Xxx_ **

_Love you more xxx_

*

Neither Lee nor Anders were pleased at being told to stay put, but Fenris needed Anders to monitor street surveillance, to follow them so that Lee could provide whatever they required in the moment, though Dorian knew there wasn't a chance in hell Fenris would allow her to go, either way.

He also knew that Fenris was thinking wherever Jassen was, he needed to be also. Dorian couldn't argue the logic, especially not when Fenris had a clever caveat.

'If you won't be honest,' Fenris said to Jassen. 'Then I need you to wear a patch.'

Anders produced a small, titanium box from his _Deus ex Satchel_ and from within, came a small square sticker. Jassen eyed it guardedly.

'So you can kill me once my usefulness expires?'

'I won't do that, not if you don't betray us. Like you said, we’d be stupid to trust you.'

Jassen grudgingly permitted Anders to lift his t-shirt and affix it to the middle of his spine. A thick, black thing upon which, a tiny, delicate remote control was affixed. It beeped once and flashed red when Fenris pressed a small remote control with a ring around it, meant to sit on a finger. Fenris slid it onto his thumb.

'It's armed, so don't get cute.'

'Distance trigger?' the assassin asked coolly.

'Fifteen feet. I suggest you stay close.'

Later, when they had Cullen back safe and sound, Dorian was going to scream into a pillow, he really was. The _fuck_ had his life become in so short a space of time?

'Are you gonna let me kill the old woman?' Jassen asked conversationally. 'Easy peasy in her sleep. The kind of murder even _you_ lot can't feel bad about.'

Fenris was packing a small bag. 'You're not killing her.'

'She was going to lead you _away_ from Cullen, you realise? Send you on a wild goose chase, even if you were _aware_ of it, that was her maligned intent. Yet you're protecting her still? Or are you just squeamish about killing?’

'Killing her would be rash and we don't dole out _punishment_ ,' Fenris told him. 'No matter how much someone might earn it.'

Jassen gave a sardonic smirk. 'So I'm _not_ wearing C4 on my eighth thoracic?'

'That's preventative, not punitive.'

‘Killing is fun,’ Jassen shrugged. ‘I get antsy if I haven’t killed someone for a while.’

‘What’s a while?’

‘A week? I can go two, but never longer. Feel like I’ll vibrate out of my skin. My lungs get tight and I get this pressure headache. A decent fight might stave it off for a while, but,’ he sighed as Dorian listened, cold all over with subdued horror. ‘ If I do that, I’ll have to make up for it with a really _messy_ kill later.’

Fenris cleared his throat, looking down at the equipment laid out. ‘Who do you kill?’

‘People who put up a decent fight. Drug dealers are easiest to hide, they kill each other all the time. Pimps too. The occasional predator here and there. Police don’t especially care who killed someone like that. Wife beaters are my favourite. They’re always so _angry_. Fight back like no one else. They’ve got murder in their blood, it’s just diluted with despair and obligation. They break apart best of all. They’re the only ones I dispose of. Best not to leave a trail, isn’t it?’

He spoke while standing there, looking down at the equipment with mild interest, tone implying they were discussing the weather.

‘No one else?’

‘Aww,’ Jassen said, looking up with a grin. ‘Don’t fret. No children, very rarely women.’

‘Rarely?’

‘I’ll enjoy killing Madeline once this is done. I’ve been wanting to do that for months now, but… well, I’ll get her, eventually.’

‘Please don’t,’ Dorian said, marvelling at the world he found himself in. ‘She’s Sophia’s _mother_.’

Jassen wrinkled his nose. ‘She’s an abuser. She hurt Cullen. I was going to adopt Sophia and then kill Madeline anyway, hand the child over to Cullen, but she’s signed for joint custody now, hasn’t she? I’ll get around to it, I’ve just been busy.’

Dorian looked at Fenris, pleading silently.

‘Jassen,’ Fenris said, voice like steel. ‘Cullen will not want you to kill Madeline.’

Defensively, Jassen said, ‘She’s a bitch. She did _awful_ things to him while you all stood around, look at last year!’

‘ _Jassen_ ,’ Fenris fairly snarled

‘Oh _God_ ,’ the assassin complained loudly like a moody teen. ‘You’re all so boring! I thought _you_ might understand at least.

‘No killing anyone we know.’

‘What about people you _don’t_ know?’

Fenris snapped, ‘Just… shut the fuck up. Go stand nearby and don’t touch anything.’

Jassen went and lurked just outside the door and Anders, who’d been watching everything, came to stand beside Fenris.

‘He’s going to fuck you over.’

‘I know. I just don’t know _how_ or _when_.’

‘I’d imagine once Cullen is safe. That’s his centre of gravity. Look for a knife in your back the second you get Cullen free.’

‘I’ve got the patch.’

‘He’s a professional,’ Anders reminded him. ‘I don’t know where he’s trained, but he’s high level, even if he is psychotic.’

‘I resent that,’ Jassen called out. ‘I consider myself neurodivergent and highly strung, thank you.’

Fenris pulled the thumb ring off and handed it to Anders. ‘Give us a few minutes of space, please.’

Anders took it, sliding it on with ease as he winked at his friend. ‘Course.’

When he was gone, Fenris approached Dorian. Stress was creeping in around the edges, Dorian could tell, but he held himself together well enough.

In his outstretched hands, he offered him a bullet proof vest. 'You'll be completely safe at all times,' he assured Dorian, who was very honestly just doing what he was _told_ at this point. Dorian took it, ignoring his traitorous fingertips, trembling and giving him away. 'It's just a precaution.’

‘Is this really happening?’ he asked in a whisper, undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. ‘I can’t… it won’t sink in.’

‘It’s your subconscious trying to protect you. We have to push through, keep going until we get him back. I know you can do this. I know how strong you are and believe me, I wouldn’t bring you if I didn’t think it was necessary.’

Dorian shivered slightly as he put the vest on. It wasn’t as thick as he expected, not as heavy. Fenris zipped it up for him.

‘Jassen’s going to want you with us,’ Fenris told Dorian quietly. ‘He’ll want you for leverage, to use against me, even if not explicitly. I don’t precisely know what we’re walking into and I _want_ to leave you here, keep you safe with Lee but I know he’s going to insist you come, no matter where we go.’

‘I want to come,’ Dorian choked out. ‘I have to help.’

‘Just do what I tell you, all right? I’ll protect you.’

‘Do you think this is going to work?’

Fenris exhaled, grimacing. ‘I think his objective is to get Cullen free and safe. I believe we can do that.’

‘What if you’re wrong? What if he’s playing us with all of it? He could be _pretending_ to care about Cullen. We’re all trusting that, but it doesn’t mean it’s real.’

‘At a certain point,’ Fenris said, closing the final clasp over the zip, throat bobbing. ‘I have to trust my instincts. A lot of what he told us tracks and he had so much time to hurt Cullen but he never did. Cullen was trusting and open and he never took advantage of it.’

‘That doesn’t mean we can trust him now.’

‘No. _We_ definitely can’t trust him. He doesn’t care about us, despite what he said. His capacity to care begins and ends with Cullen. What I do trust, however, is that I can navigate his bullshit and keep us safe, whatever he has planned. Letting him think he’s in control is the best way to move forward.’

Dorian shook his head, relenting. ‘OK, well, I trust you, Fen.’

‘I won’t misplace it,’ Fenris promised, before looking towards the bedroom door as Dorian put his shirt back on. ‘All right, bring him in.’

Jassen returned with Anders in tow. ‘Nice chat?’

Fenris threw a vest at Jassen who caught it but wrinkled his nose, scoffing.

'I'm not going to get _shot.’_

'More's the pity. Wear it or you don't come.'

Jassen pulled his t-shirt over his head and Dorian had almost forgotten about his chest, about what Madeline said.

It was _streaked_ with vivid red lines, the same thickness and rough design as Fenris's except Jassen's tattoos were not the graceful branches of an elven style tree, they were forks of jagged blood red lightning, splintering off from the main bolt that ran up his spine and sternum. They were vicious, sharp and ugly, marring his trim, toned body alongside countless scars.

'Not as many kills as you,' he told Fenris, allowing Anders to strap the vest on without interfering with the device. 'But still the reigning champion in my pit. You were the only one who ever beat me. The _punishment_ for losing to you,' he shuddered exaggeratedly. ' _Oof_.'

Fenris forced himself to look away. 'I don't want to hear it.'

Jassen recoiled ever so slightly, like Fenris's dismissal was unexpected. He pulled his t-shirt down and took the jacket Fenris had given to him because he had _literally_ rocked up in a pair of black jeans, boots and a Superdry t-shirt, apparently unconcerned by the blistering cold.

‘Anything else? I assume I don’t get a weapon.’

‘As if you need one.’

Leliana had changed out of her bloodied, ruined clothes into something more basic and had washed her face when she came out of the bathroom.

'Be very careful,' she said to both Dorian and Fenris when they were done in the bedroom. 'Whatever you need from this end, you have it, just… be _careful_. This doesn't feel right, none of it.'

'I know,' Fenris agreed quietly, staring at Jassen, who was eating a fucking _sandwich_ , calm as you please.

'You're being smart by leaving your friend here to keep her safe,' Jassen told him through a mouthful of bread and cheese. He eyed Clarel a final time who was breathing slowly, tied to a chair, similar to his position ten minutes ago. 'Are you really _not_ going to kill her? I can do it right now, the nice way,’ he offered, sandwich in hand.

'We're really not going to kill her,' Leliana confirmed, opening her laptop at the dining table. 'Move on.'

'You shouldn't make the same mistake I made last time. Mercy is weakness and weakness is—'

'Despicable,' Fenris supplied in a small, punched out little breath, like he hadn't _meant_ to say it, eyes widening as the word slipped past his lips.

Anders touched his shoulder, concern evident despite his professional exterior, but Fenris recovered fast.

'We'll uh… be in touch with updates. Anders, you have what you need?'

'And plenty more from your lockbox,' his friend with the snake skin boots assured him, sharing a briefly concerned look with Leliana. 'Be safe.'

Fenris nodded briskly. 'Back soon.'

*

_'Come on, it's the best costume you've ever seen, admit it!'_

_'Darling,' Dorian said, biting his lips into his mouth. 'It's not that the costume isn't great because it is, please believe me that it_ is _, just_ _…'_

_'It's ridiculously sexy,' Fenris explained, stood there wearing precisely fuck_ all _Halloween-y except for some cat ears, generously lent to him by Josie who was still with Lee in the dressing room. 'If we weren't taking your daughter to her after school Halloween fair and this was, instead, a night in with you and Dorian, I'd say job done, but—'_

_'Oh bloody fucking_ hell _!' Alistair exclaimed, hands flying over his mouth when he emerged from Lee's bathroom, freshly changed into his costume, fully dressed as Jack Skellington. 'Why are you so_ hot?'

_Cullen tutted. 'It's_ authentic _.'_

_'My knees might be weak, can't lie. Oh, you've got a_ sword _as well! You know there'll be kids everywhere, right?'_

_Looking down at himself and his_ oh so authentic _costume, Cullen gestured vaguely. 'There is literally not an inch of skin showing! Fenris is wearing cat ears and Dorian's dressed as a crocodile, I look awesome!'_

_'A_ dragon _,' Dorian reminded him primly. 'I didn't spend an hour letting Lana and Sera stick glittery scales all over me to be confused with a semi-aquatic reptile, thank you very much! I just haven't got my wings on yet.'_

_'If anything,' Fenris said, scratching his neck. 'It's kind of perfect that Dorian is a dragon and you're a_ _… dragon… slayer?'_

_'It's medieval!' Cullen complained. 'And fuck you all, I look amazing, right, Ali?'_

_Alistair had one hand on his chin, the other around his chest as if surveying a deeply divisive art piece, the result of which was highly amusing with his expertly applied face paint. 'You look fuckable as all out hell, big guy. Seriously, even the fluffy thing is sexy, somehow.'_

_'It's the leggings tucked into the boots, right?' Dorian chimed in, still unable to take his eyes off his boyfriend the moment he'd emerged triumphantly from their bedroom. 'Possibly the breastplate.'_

_With a sulky huff, Cullen declared, 'You're all just jealous.'_

_Dorian chuckled. 'You're going to get_ piled _on by the mums from Sophia's school.'_

_'And the dads,' Alistair agreed. 'We'll protect you, though, don't worry! What's Sophia's costume?'_

_'Zombie Elsa.'_

_'See? That's a classic! You look like you're going LARPing.'_

_'The hell is LARPing?'_

_'Well, I think you look gorgeous,' Dorian said before Cullen could get too sulky. 'And I hope you rented it for more than twenty four hours.'_

_'I bought it.'_

_'Good God,' Fenris sighed. 'Contain yourselves.'_

_Sophia came out of the bathroom with Lee and Josie, positively beaming. Her makeup was shockingly realistic for a zombie. 'I looks so scary!' she yelled excitedly, her pale blue Elsa dress all covered in fake blood and muddied rips._

_'You look so_ authentic _,' Cullen praised, shooting the others a_ so there _kind of look, all teasing, all playing. 'Like a real zombie!'_

_'Daddy, zombies aren't real.'_

_'Oh, right, of course. Did Auntie Josie do your makeup?'_

_'Yup! And Auntie Lee made my dress more scary.'_

_'What_ _… are you dressed as?' Dorian asked, peering at the women on either side of Sophia. Their skin tight costumes left precious little to the imagination._

_Josie rolled her eyes. 'I'm a Na'Vi. From the movie Avatar?'_

_'Is that why you're all blue with a tail?'_

_'That would be why, yes.'_

_'And Lee?'_

_She looked downright affronted that he didn't get why she was wearing a leather all in one with knee high boots and her hair lightly curled. 'Black Widow,_ obviously _.'_

_'Why is everyone so sexy?' Alistair asked, mildly flabbergasted. 'Soph, me and you are the only ones who are scary!'_

_Fenris bristled. 'I'm scary. Cats are scary.'_

_'Cats are the least scary things ever and you are literally wearing all black, as always, with a pair of kitten ears on your head left over from Josie and Lee's night out last night. You are scarier_ without _the cat ears. With them, you're an adorable fluffy ball of pent up rage that I want to pick up and_ smoosh _.'_

_'I refuse to be smooshed.'_

_Sophia was putting her coat on very carefully over her costume, excitedly demonstrating her zombie growl to Cullen as he knelt before her, zipping her up, while Alistair began to chase Fenris around the loft._

_'Come here for smooshings!' he yelled. 'Come to Jack, the Pumpkin King, for the squashiest of smooshings!'_

_Dorian checked his phone as they ran around him. Sera and Lana were meeting him there as Lana's costume wouldn't fit in a cab and it was closer for them to walk. They sent selfies. Sera dressed as Harley Quinn and Lana dressed as what appeared to be a very sexy, very_ devoted _homemade costume of Ursula, tentacles and all._

_'If I didn't have wings, I'd feel under-dressed,' Dorian said, pocketing his phone._

_They milled around the door, putting on coats and shoes, Alistair still chasing Fenris and Dorian had the distinct impression that the way Fenris was laughing, was breathlessly insisting that Alistair would regret_ smooshing _him, something was indeed building between them._

_All three of them, as Cullen had pointed out._

_But it was Halloween and not the time, so even when Alistair chased Fenris into the bathroom, Dorian didn't give into curiosity. He picked up his huge, black glittery wings and kissed his medieval commander boyfriend, one clawed hand resting on the metal of his breastplate. Sophia was in Josie's arms, sat on her hip, excitedly babbling about what design she was going to carve into her pumpkin when they got there._

_And if Lee looked especially_ pleased _when Alistair and Fenris emerged from the bathroom; Fenris wiping face paint off his chin and cheeks, Alistair adjusting the smudged lines of his skeleton design, well, that was none of Dorian's business, not until later, at least._

*

In the car on the way, Fenris prepped Dorian four times. What to say, how to get past security of the Trevelyan Estate in Knightsbridge.

'Tell them I want to offer up the loft,' Dorian repeated back. 'Get them alone. If they refuse, double tap the bracelet so you know to come. Stall until you get there.'

'Good. It must be their main office with the double fronted windows. I have the cloner ready to go, so even if they're resistant, we can get contact information for the people holding him.'

'Is this really all for money, to get my loft?' Dorian asked, fiddling with the strap of his seatbelt as rain pelted from the sky, darkening gloomily, despite the pretty lights all around. 'They _kidnapped_ Cullen for this?'

'No,' Fenris said with quiet confidence, Jassen in the back seat. 'Whatever this is, we're only seeing part of it.'

'All that matters is Cullen,' Jassen reminded them.

'You still never told me _why_.’

Jassen remained silent.

'Oh, come on,' Fenris said, turning onto a main road in Anders' tiny Ford Fiesta. 'You like the sound of your own voice.'

Dorian turned enough to see Jassen staring blankly out of the window, disinterested in what he saw.

'He's important to me.'

Dorian asked, 'Why?'

'Why is he important to _you?'_

_'_ Because I love him.'

'So do I.'

'Because he didn't press charges when you glassed his face?'

'That's part of it, yes. But he saved me again, years later.'

Dorian blinked. 'You think he saved you from that place?'

'He did. Raleigh Samson told me when he wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. _You've Cullen Rutherford to thank, yet again._ I looked into it, years later, found out he was the one who went undercover, exposed the rings. They all fell, one by one and even though I was taken back by the lower echelons, along with the others who had no family to claim them, the big boss had gone into hiding and they couldn't put us back in the pits. They found other _work_ for us. Worse for some, but better for me.'

'They took you back?' Fenris asked, looking at him in the rear-view.

'Of course. They had people inside the police, still do. They have people everywhere. With no one to claim us, we fell right through the cracks. Not everyone was lucky like you.'

'Who are _they?'_

'Bad people with lots of power.’

'Are you still with them?'

'I left them years ago, but they trained me up good. It was better than anything I could have hoped for in the pit.'

'And that's why you love him, is it? Coincidence and timing?'

Jassen smiled, an untouchable, distant thing. 'It's part of it.'

'Enough,' Fenris said, shooting Dorian another warning look just as he opened his mouth to say all manner of things. When he looked ahead, there were flashing blue and red lights outside the gated mansion belonging to the twins.

The assassin in the back seat leaned forward, eyes widening.

'Oh, shit.'

Dorian didn't wait for the car to stop even as it slowed. He got out in the full on lashing rain, ran towards all the commotion. It was cold, burning in his lungs, but that was nothing to the all-consuming _panic_ that came for him then because…

Because the Trevelyan's were being _arrested_.

Evelyn Trevelyan wasn't yelling and thrashing, but her brother was. He was trying to fight off the police who had him in their grip, screaming and cursing ineffectually. Evie was stoic, silent.

'Hey, stop!' Dorian yelled, skidding to a dangerously wobbly halt on the rain-slicked pavement. 'Stop, what's happening?'

Evie looked at Dorian, silver eyes burning. ' _You_ did this to us!’ she spat, bottom lip trembling. ‘Framed us, shopped us in, you _fucker_!’

‘I haven’t—’

‘And we didn’t even _do this_!’ she positively scathed. ‘We only wanted what was ours, we would never— _OW_!’

‘GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER!’ Max roared, struggling hard, even though it was useless.

Dorian shook his head, didn't understand. 'I—just call it off, please. Tell them to release Cullen and we'll help you, Lee will help you!’

Max tried to punch one of the officers and they were piling on him now, quite literally. The one who was holding Evie stood still, waiting until her brother was secure.

‘We had nothing to do with Cullen going missing!’

‘Call it off!’

‘You’re so fucking _dumb_! We didn’t _do this_ and when—’

The officer holding Evie pushed her against the side of a police car, cutting off her speech.

'You hired someone to leak the pictures.'

Her mouth twisted as she was handcuffed. 'We wanted money! That was _all_!’

'Bullshit, you wanted to _hurt_ us!'

'Only to get more _money_ , to push you to sell the loft, but you wait,’ she gasped, rain cascading down her face, causing her mascara to run. ‘You fucking _wait_ until we get out of this, then you’ll know what it is to be _hurt_! I swear to God, you will pay for this, you miserable piece of shit!’

'Enough! Head down!'

She was shoved inside the car and said no more. The officers who had a grip on Max bundled him in the next one.

Someone came over to Dorian and touched his shoulder as he stared, blinking rain out of his eyes.

'Mr Pavus?' the man asked. 'We received credible intelligence that your siblings are responsible for the attack on your partner today. We're arresting them now to process them before questioning. Hopefully, we’ll have some good news for you soon.’

‘When did the… intelligence come in?’

‘Tip off and file dump by email came in about an hour ago. Took us that long to get warrants.’

‘Do they have their phones?'

'No, sir. Everything will be catalogued later. They'll be able to make a call once they're processed. Excuse me.'

*

_'You literally just paid out twenty million on a bullshit trumped up court case, you are_ not _paying for my business!'_

_Cullen didn't understand, couldn't help but take it personally and Dorian mildly despaired._

_'But I can help you.'_

_'Yes,' Dorian said, trying to be calm. 'I know that, but that doesn't mean you_ should _.'_

_'But I_ can _, so I don't see why you won't just let me. It's a great idea, I fully support it, so—'_

_'Darling,' Dorian said, raising his hand, palm out. 'I know you support it and I love that, I am so grateful, but I want to do this on my own, at least the money part.'_

_Cullen remained mystified, adding cream in a pan. 'But it's only money. Just take what you need.'_

_Dorian kind of wanted to laugh, but another part of him held firm._

_'OK, let me try and explain this in a way you might understand.'_

_Cullen shot him a look. 'There's no need to patronise me. I know what it means to be poor, I remember just fine.'_

_'I know that, but look, you_ could _hire someone to uh_ _… ghost-write your songs, right? You could do that and sing them and get by fine.'_

_'I mean,' Cullen snorted, rolling the pan expertly. 'They wouldn't be anywhere near as good as what I write, but OK. I could do that, a lot of singers do.'_

_'But you write your own songs because you_ can _, because you're proud of the result. You work hard.'_

_'This is a wonky analogy, baby.'_

_'I would just really like to do this myself. At least this part. So I know I could have done it without you. Does that_ _… make sense?'_

_Cullen set the pan aside, frowning gently as he thought. Dorian knew it still didn't make much sense to him. Cullen shared everything with his friends. There was no_ yours _or_ mine _. Ours. Take what you need. It had always been that way for them, but Dorian just wanted him to_ see _that this was something he needed to do for himself, to prove to himself. A foundation of strength to build upon._

_'Yeah,' Cullen said after a beat. 'It does. It makes sense. I just want to give you everything.'_

_Dorian sighed, tiny bit relieved because he hated it when they argued, hated how emotional he still got sometimes. 'And I love that you want to give me everything, but_ _…' he placed his hand over Cullen's on the countertop. 'I want to give you everything too.'_

_'You already—'_

_'And not just in a spiritual, romantic, life partner kind of way.'_

_Cullen wrinkled his nose, smirking. 'Are we life partners?'_

_Hand on hip, Dorian said, 'Are we_ not _life partners?'_

_'That's a weird term, is all.'_

_'We're boyfriends.'_

_'I'm too manly to be your boyfriend.'_

_'Love, you're wearing knee high socks with shorts. And I'm just—'_

_'I know, OK? I know exactly what you're saying. I respect it. However I can help, let me know but otherwise, I'll stop pushing money on you, for this, at least.' Cullen plated it up, heaping great, generous spoonfuls of his lobster ravioli risotto onto pretty bowl plates and looked up with a patient, loving smile. 'Fair?'_

_Dorian kissed him. 'Very.'_

*

Fenris and Jassen were on the verge of a fight, or at least a verbal one given that Fenris had the detonating device on his thumb, sat there over his strange black gloves that would make a single punch near lethal.

'…didn't _know_!' Jassen was hissing. 'It could have been anyone!'

'You're _lying!_ Do you think I can't see what you're doing, how you're herding us?'

'Hey, stop!' Dorian yelled over the thick rush of rain. 'Their phones are still inside.’

Fenris shot Jassen a glare. 'If they haven't been catalogued yet.'

‘That cop said they haven’t been. It's got to be worth a try. Then I could call these people, pretend to be Max and get them to let Cullen go, maybe?'

It sounded desperate, so much so that Dorian wanted to cringe but anything was better than looking inward and being met with soul crushing despair.

Fenris rubbed his face.

‘We’ll go. You stay here.'

*

_Dorian watched the fireworks from the rooftop of the building, a few other inhabitants milling around as they grilled burgers and sausages on a small barbeque atop a pile of spare bricks._

_Fenris turned the burgers, bantering easily with Alistair while Lee and Josie laughed as they were regaled by the joint storytelling of Sera and Lana. Dorian couldn't hear what the story was over the noise from the fireworks on the river, celebrating the failed attempt of Guy Fawkes all those years ago. Thom sat close to the wall beside his wife, the pair eating hot dogs._

_And Cullen was behind Dorian, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder, watching with him. Thick coats and scarves,_ ear muffs _even because Cullen simply delighted in bundling him up._

_It was a crystal clear night, every star in the sky visible through the icy stratosphere. Dorian exhaled, watching his breath unfurl and then he lifted his gloved hand, pointing._

_'There's your saucepan.'_

_Cullen pressed a warm, dry kiss beneath his ear before he looked up, strong arms around his waist. 'Our saucepan,' he whispered._

*

Sat in the car, dripping wet twenty minutes later, Jassen helped Dorian connect the phone to a very small laptop, typing blindingly fast. The assassin nudged Fenris, drawing his attention away from the text he was sending to Lee.

Fenris nodded and read. 'There are several numbers used in the last forty eight hours that use encryption keys,' he said, gaze riveted to the screen as he wiped his forehead, still damp from the rain.

'Maybe we should just try them all,' Dorian suggested.

'That's not a good idea.’

‘This one,' Jassen said, tapping the screen. 'I recognise the prefix. Same number Clarel was texting, look.'

'It is,' Fenris said, frowning deeply. 'Run a trace on it.'

'You can't, it's encrypted.'

Fenris shot the assassin a withering look. 'I can't, but _you_ can.'

'Not on this tech.'

'Yes on this tech, stop fucking with me.'

'Is it—' Dorian asked, clearing his throat when it closed up. 'The time before they hurt Cullen, is that from when he was taken or from when this call was last made?'

Jassen wiped wet hair out of his eyes. 'Last call made, which was three hours ago, so same difference, really.'

'So we have three hours to find Cullen and get him free?'

'Yes.'

'Are you certain?'

'I would not risk him.'

'Then please,' Dorian said. 'Please run the trace.'

Jassen seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes. 'It's not that I _can't_ on this kind of tech, it's that there's no way to shield us from them seeing it. They'll know they've been traced and they'll see exactly where we are.'

'You can't alter our location?'

'Not with this.'

'You have your own tech nearby?'

'Yes.'

Fenris swore. 'Whereabouts?'

*

Jassen lived in a shack on the rooftop of a very tall building, a kind of metal _shed_ and really, Dorian didn't know why he'd been expecting anything different. It was dingy, freezing, everything wrapped in waterproof casing. There was no bed, nothing soft or cushiony. An old wooden chair, a desk, leads running up from beneath the building. Three screens and a whole lot of traps should anyone come poking around not knowing the door code, apparently.

He hooked up the phone to his equipment. 'I need military grade clearance.'

Fenris's mouth turned down. 'You're not using _mine_.'

'Obviously not yours,' Jassen replied dryly. 'But you have access to a ton of them, know a few off by heart, I bet. It won't flag up, it's so I can shield us properly.'

'You're the hacker, why don't you have your own?'

'All mine have been lost over the last few years and I burned what bridges I still had in making sure I got the Trevelyan contract. You're wasting Cullen's time.'

Irritably, Fenris leaned over and typed rapidly, hitting the _enter_ button with a loud, decisive tap.

'Hurry the fuck _up_ , then.'

Jassen typed and then sat back. 'Few minutes.'

'I'll just take a seat, shall I?' Dorian muttered, teeth chattering, despite wearing the thick, winter jacket Cullen had delighted in helping him choose. The rain was coming in thick sheets and he was going to get the _nastiest_ cold, but Cullen would be there to take care of him tomorrow, so that was fine. _Fine_.

Completely fine.

'I don't sleep,' Jassen said, very deliberately not touching anything else, lest Fenris perceive it as a threat. 'And I rarely have visitors.'

Dorian looked around. There were cases stacked neatly against the wall, some of them probably containing weapons. In a box beneath the table was a shallow, wide plastic box filled with cans of food.

Fenris was staring at the box for a long time before Dorian subtly touched his forearm, offering comfort.

'Yeah,' Jassen said after a few beats of awful silence, broken only by the harsh pattering of rain on the tin roof above. 'Food's always an issue. I panic if I feel hungry. Is it the same for you?'

Fenris's nod was tiny.

'Smart way to condition people. Reward, punishment, adjustment. Pain fades but hunger just gets worse and worse.'

'Do you ever—' Fenris paused, expression tightening before he went on, loading graphic on the screen indicating it was halfway done. Dorian got out his phone to text Lee, a quick update. He ignored the dozens of messages from the girls, from Rosalie and Josie, all but the one from Thom telling him they were safe and locked down. 'Do you think it would be better if you didn't remember?'

'No,' Jassen said without hesitation, but no hubris. 'I went into that place as a stupid, angry child and I came out what I am now. I was just a council estate runt, foster parents who didn't give a fuck if I lived or died. Fighting always made me feel alive. Do you think you'd be like me if you remembered?'

It was the question Dorian knew Fenris battled with. The question that kept a barrier between those he loved and himself in anything less than total control, even though Dorian could see what was slowly starting between him, Alistair and Lee. Alistair was strong enough to be a barrier in some ways, but not all. Fenris had told Dorian sometimes of how he dreaded it all coming back to him one day. How he didn't know who he would _be_ if that happened.

'Sometimes I fear it, yes,' Fenris answered, surprising Dorian with his honesty. 'Do you feel like you could ever be normal?'

Jassen looked at the screen. 'No. What was it like, serving abroad?'

'People say _war is hell,_ things like that. The word gets tossed about but I always imagined hell to be a place absent of urgency. Lounging around, being tortured on a rack, nothing to do throughout the day except suffer. This was completely different. Every single second was charged. Every moment mattered. Every breath was a marker of a forward journey and there wasn't time to look back, to languish. It was the fastest I've ever lived and the closest I ever came to really seeing what death is.'

Dorian asked, 'Which is?'

Fenris cleared his throat as if suddenly self-conscious. 'The end. No more moments, no more urgency. Just a full stop. An exhale without an inhale. Just, the _end_.'

'We're like sharks,' Jassen observed. 'Can't stop moving.'

'Maybe _you_ are,' Dorian said, wishing there was space to move Fenris _away_ from the man because his proximity seemed toxic and insidious then. 'Is that done yet?'

'Almost. You should eat something.' He kicked the box beneath the table. 'Help yourself.'

Dorian knew Jassen wasn't talking to him, knew the food thing was not _about_ him but it still made him irrationally terrified to see Fenris peel back a tin of beans and eat right from the can, just tipping them into his mouth. He thought of Cullen, unable to prevent the comparison to how his boyfriend made the best, most amazing food, always had things in the fridge. Always offered Fenris something. It was casual, but Dorian had noticed it after a while. He always offered him food first, even before the others. Served him first too.

Now Fenris was eating cold beans from a box beneath his enemy's desk in a horribly efficient manner. Food for fuel. The complete opposite of what Cullen offered; making food into something good, making it about family, connection, love, care, health and happiness.

'Done,' Jassen said, pointing to a circle on a map. 'The trace pinpoints the location here.'

'In Kent?'

'Not unusual. London is surveillance heavy. Kent has a lot of countryside. Good place to hide out, lots of space. Empty warehouses and such to hold up without civilian intrusion.'

'That's where the call came from, not necessarily where Cullen is being held.'

'I think this is the lead to follow.'

'How far is it?'

'Forty five minutes. Half an hour if you don't care how many speeding tickets your friend's car gets.'

Fenris rolled his eyes. 'As if it's _his_ car.'

*

_They still stared when Cullen picked up Sophia. When he bent down to scoop her up in his arms, turning on the spot, kissing her cheeks like he hadn't seen her for years. Everyone stared, sometimes they took subtle pictures. There were always pictures, no way to stop it, but Dorian was working on not caring and so was Cullen._

_'Good day, my darling?' he asked, setting her down, taking her school bag. Dorian always hung back a bit when he went with them, gave them their time at first._

_'Good day!' she confirmed cheerily. 'But my lunch was still yucky and Ethan-Flynn was still mean. Can Uncle Fenris punch him? Dory!'_

_Dorian brightened, smiling wide as Cullen's daughter pelted over, flinging herself around him. 'Hello, Princess,' he greeted, chuckling._

_'Are you coming shopping with us? Daddy promised we could make our own pizzas and you can be on my team!'_

_'There are teams?'_

_'Pizza teams,' Cullen informed him sagely, taking Sophia's other hand as they began to walk, the darling child between them. 'Obviously.'_

_'Right, obviously. Well, my pizza is going to be mostly cheese, with a lot of bacon. Ooh, maybe some cream cheese in places!'_

_'Dory is on my team!'_

_'Ugh, the betrayal!' Cullen whined as they swung her between them. 'My two favourite people teaming up against me!'_

_Sophia laughed, loving to be swung._

_Everyone stopped and stared, they always would, but Dorian was too busy being happy to care._

*

It was a dreamscape of ever escalating madness. Dorian had the persistent urge to _wake up._ To roll over and tell Cullen all about his nightmare, but whenever he tried, in the quieter moments of their drive into Kent, he realised he was _awake_ and that everything, no matter how crazy, was _real_.

When the car came to a stop, he'd been quiet so long that he found himself unwilling to speak at all. He wanted to retreat inward. To hide, to cry, to abscond from the _draining_ involvement in a paradigm he did not understand. And he wouldn't do any of those things because Cullen was all that mattered to him in the _world_ but that was what he wanted.

Getting out of the car made his stomach stretch and the motion had the sudden effect of making him instantly, irreversibly nauseous. He bent double, clutching the side of the door so he didn't pitch to the side, and then he vomited hard.

'It's OK,' Fenris told him, hand on his back. 'It's just the shock. It's usually delayed a bit.'

Dorian wiped his mouth with a trembling hand after he spat, breathing raggedly. 'I remember.'

'You should wait in the car,' Jassen said, looking around.

They were parked down a country lane in the absolute pitch black of night. No street lamps, nothing but the nearly full moon above them casting a thin, silvery glimmer over what it could reach. The place was spectral, otherworldly and undeniably frightening. The rain had stopped a while ago but left a distinct sharp, wet bite in the air and Dorian's shoes squelched in the mud as he took a few steps away to shut the door with a slam.

'I'm coming.'

'He wouldn't want to risk you,' Jassen said then and Dorian knew how true that was, but he couldn't abide by it.

'Dorian maybe you _should_ stay here,' Fenris agreed worriedly.

'No,' he said, as flat as he'd ever been able to manage before. His throat burned and he had nothing to wash the taste away, but his heart was beating faster again, adrenaline brewing in his blood. 'I'm coming with you. If he is in… wherever we're going, maybe I can get him free while you two rip everyone else to pieces.'

'That's not really—' Fenris bit his tongue when Dorian shot him a look. 'OK. Keep behind me and stay quiet. Phone on silent?'

'Of course.'

'Good. It's half a mile to the pinpoint. Likely a barn or something. Keep everything to a whisper.'

'I understand.'

They trudged through thick, deep mud across fields whose outline Dorian could see distantly with the help of the moon. Jassen stayed to Fenris's right, within range of the detonator, well in sight. Dorian followed in Fenris's footsteps.

It was dead quiet, every footstep loud enough to make Dorian nervous that someone would hear their approach. After a few minutes, when he looked back, he couldn't see which way the road was. The trees at the base had vanished, a dark hill obscuring them.

When he fell, foot giving out to the side in a wobbly, unsteady movement, he went down right into the soft, squishy mud. The scent of wet earth, of rain and vegetation, of rapeseed and petrichor filled his nose. The mud was all over his hands, knees, legs and side. Fenris pulled him up and Dorian felt so stupid he wanted to cry, but he was _not_ going to.

He knew, as he walked on, covered in mud, headed towards some unknown location, that he was emotionally balanced on a knife edge. He'd been holding it together for hours now and the endless, constant memories of Cullen, thoughts of him, snippets of happy, safe times were pressing down like a car compactor.

Falling into the mud had pushed him that much closer, but he bit down hard, strangling what weakness he could grasp, blinking back tears and focusing on walking without stumbling.

Fenris stopped. ‘There.’

Upon a small hill to their left came a gentle yellow glow from a window. They ducked down behind a nearby tree and in the outline of the moon, Dorian could see it was a building, a kind of barn, like Jassen had said.

'Is there a farm attached to it?' Fenris asked, sounding surprised. 'Looks like crop fields at the base, there.'

'Possibly.'

'Which means there's a house, just down that rise. See? Telephone wires. It's not a good place to hide out, better for—'

He fell silent with an immediacy born of realisation.

Nothing followed it. He just stared ahead.

'Fenris?' Dorian prompted after a while. The white haired man shook himself, swallowing hard. Jassen looked down.

'Right,' he said to himself, taking a deep breath that trembled slightly on the exhale. 'Right, OK. Dorian. If you get Cullen and it's too far or you're not sure about the direction, take him there. Follow the wires. You understand?'

'He should wait nearby,' Jassen said, still facing down.

Dorian didn't understand. 'Why?

'Cullen would not want to risk you, like I said.'

'Cullen wouldn't want to risk _anyone._ Not Fenris, not me, probably not even _you_.'

He expected Fenris to agree, to have his back, but instead Fenris said, in a thin voice, 'No, Jassen's right.'

Jassen shot Fenris an almost _guilty_ look then and something in Dorian's stomach turned, instincts prickling horribly.

'What's going on?'

'I think,' Fenris answered slowly, expression forcibly neutral. 'That you should wait close to the barn, watch to see if and when Cullen comes out. Then take him to the house or, if you can find your way, the car. Here.' He pressed the keys into Dorian's hand.

Dorian stared at them, stared down as his throat thickened again and his eyes began to burn as his body understood, before his mind did, what was happening.

'You don't think you're coming back.'

'Better to be prepared for every outcome. If all goes well, you can just give me the keys back,' he said but he was _lying_ and Dorian knew it.

'Fenris, you can—you can take anyone, I've seen it, I _know_ you can do this, both of you. I'll wait outside the barn door until it's clear and then I'll get him, we can work _together_.'

Fenris had yet to look him in the eye. 'Best you stay back until they release him.'

Terror was a javelin through the epicentre of his heart. ' _Release him?_ Why would they—?'

Jassen got to his feet suddenly, facing away from the tree, from Fenris and Dorian.

Fenris got to his feet too, only his movements were slow and unhurried. Strangely so, as if moving through water.

And when he carefully removed the ring from his thumb, handing it to Jassen, Dorian began to hyperventilate for real. 'I appreciate what you _could_ have done and what you chose to do.'

Jassen frowned at the small detonator but he nodded and took it.

'Fen, please talk to me. _Please_.'

'Dorian, everything's going to be fine,' his friend said, not quite attempting a smile, but it was _there_ , behind that blank, forced neutrality. 'It'll all be fine, OK? You're going to wait nearby, there's a cluster of trees just there and Cullen will come out. You'll take him and go, do you understand?'

Hot, scalding tears streaked down his face as Dorian grit his teeth, turning to Jassen. 'What's happening?'

'It's fine,' Fenris promised, warming to his theme now of pretending everything was all right when it _so_ wasn't, Dorian knew it _wasn't_. 'Here, you take this, OK? Take the pack. It has medical supplies and a few other bits you might need. Dorian, look at me,' he added sharper, but no less kind. No less fucking _kind_. 'Jassen and I will be right behind you, so don't wait. We're faster than you, we'll catch up. You take Cullen and _go_.'

'Look at me.'

Fenris did not.

'Fucking look at me right now and tell me you're not walking in there having given up hope!'

Fenris chuckled weakly the same time as two tears ran down his face. 'You have no idea how strong you are, Dorian. There's no one better to look after and protect Cullen. No one. We'll walk you to the trees, come on.'

He reached out to grab Dorian's arm, but he yanked it back.

'Don't do this,' he pled in a crackling whisper. 'He loves you, Cullen loves you so much! _I_ love you so much, please… _please_ don't do this!’

Fenris didn’t respond, looked to Jassen, who was still staring down at the detonator. 'We're wasting time.'

Dorian let out a sob; painful, wrenching thing as his mind struggled like a bird on a string trying to get free, but all his thoughts were crashing together, incomprehensible mess and he didn't know what to _do_.

Jassen said, 'OK. He stowed the small ring away as he fell into step with Fenris. He looked back at Dorian, didn't hold eye contact for more than a split second because there it was again, _guilt._ 'Come on.'

Dorian followed because he just didn't know what else to _do._ He didn't dare risk their lives and Cullen's life by making noise so he tried to control himself but oh, the world was falling to fucking _pieces_ , his heart breaking clean in two.

'Here,' Fenris said when they arrived at a dense clump of bushes around the base of three trees, grown close together. Perfect cover, even Dorian could tell. From there, he could just about see the barn doors, the angle was different. He saw cars, expensive big ones. 'Cullen _will_ come out. You run and get him then, understand?'

Dorian's expression crumpled as he wiped his eyes. 'I understand.'

'Good.' Fenris's tone was clipped now, holding himself tightly. 'When we get home, remind me to show you a folder in my lockbox, OK?’

'What's in it?'

Fenris stared at the barn. 'Letters.'

Jassen sighed through his teeth, heavy and almost angry. He closed his eyes for a moment.

'I'm sorry,' he told the white haired man.

Fenris just nodded. 'It's OK. I had a long time.'

Dorian was just hatching a frankly mental plan of how he was going to sneak after them, follow them inside, call the police, fight and _kill_ whoever he needed to keep the people he loved safe, when Jassen burst into motion.

The force of his backspin kick was such that Dorian felt the _breeze_ of it. That massive, awful collision with Fenris's face had his whole body seized in sympathy and _terror_ , because what the fuck was happening _now_? Fenris was entirely unprepared and it knocked him for six. Jassen had moved too fast. Much faster than he'd moved at Wireless.

It didn't render Fenris unconscious but before he could react, stumbling backwards against Dorian, Jassen dropped low and stuck something in Fenris's thigh. Dorian thought it was a knife at first, but it was a small _dart_.

'N-no,' Fenris slurred, mouth bleeding. ‘Don’t.’

'Dorian's right,' Jassen said, so quietly Dorian could barely hear it over Fenris’s heavy breathing. 'He loves you all too much to survive losing even one of you.’

Fenris's knees gave out and Dorian caught him around the middle.

'Give me… back,' Fenris gasped, as his breathing slowed. 'D'nt take the… risk, _please_. They want me, give me… to them… please…'

He went entirely lax, slipping into unconsciousness. Dorian grunted, lowering him down carefully atop the wet leaves and foliage behind the bushes.

'Fuck's sake,' Jassen sighed, mouth curled with disgust and irritation. 'Well, you wanted to come with, yeah? Plan will have to be adjusted a bit now. _Fuck_.'

Dorian crouched down beside him, feeling Fenris all over. 'What did you do to him?'

'It's a tranquilliser.’

Dorian looked up and hissed, 'What the _fuck_?'

'I was going to hand him over,' Jassen said, shrugging out of the jacket Fenris had given him, placing it over the prone man's chest like a mother might with a blanket. 'But he clocked and then it all got annoyingly _sad_. I kept thinking how Cullen would look once he… realised Fenris gave himself up to save him.'

'Gave himself up?'

'My old _boss_ ,' Jassen sneered. 'He's holding Cullen, using him to have me bring him his precious lost _pet._ The point is, you're gonna have to wait right outside now while I go in and kill everyone.'

'Kill everyone,' Dorian echoed slowly.

'Yup. That'll be fun, at least.' He rolled his neck, bones cracking loudly. 'Nothing better than a good fight.'

Few times in his life had Dorian rendered quite so speechless, but this was definitely one of them.

'You… saved Fenris?'

Jassen crouched down and withdrew Fenris’s small knife. Dorian made to grab his wrist, protect Fenris but Jassen held fast, no sudden movements. 'Stupidity,' he said, holding Dorian's gaze. 'Is apparently contagious. Here, cut a bit of his hair off, will you? A long bit. Come on. If I wanted to hurt him, I'd have let him walk alongside me into that barn.'

He handed Dorian the knife. It was small but very sharp, glinting malevolently in the moonlight.

'Why do you—'

'Come on, move it.'

Dorian forced his fingers to be steady and cut a long, thin chunk of hair from the base of Fenris's scalp.

'He got anything else, keepsakes or such?'

'Not that I know of.'

'What about you?'

'I— what for?'

'Something small, something I can pass off as proof he's elsewhere.'

'No, but… maybe you could use his glove? I've never seen anyone else use anything like that.'

Jassen smiled. 'Circle gets the square, that'll do it. He had something similar in the pit. Nasty right hook, that's for sure.'

He removed the strange fingerless glove from Fenris’s lax hand, took the hair and knife from Dorian, rising quickly. He stood there fiddling for a few seconds, eyes narrowed in concentration, hands behind his back until he seemed satisfied, pocketing the items. 'You'll wait right outside, grab Cullen when he comes out and return here,' he instructed, looking down at Fenris. 'He'll wake up in about ten minutes or so. Get them both home, got it?'

Dorian was too afraid to do anything but nod. Jassen noticed it, seemed annoyed.

'I don't know how to be inspirational or kind,' he said bluntly. 'So just think about what will happen if you fail, yeah? Let fear be the lava beneath your rope bridge so you’ll run the fuck across.'

'No danger of being inspirational there, you prick.'

Jassen clapped his upper arm hard. 'That's the spirit. Now, remember to stay _outside_. No matter what you see happening, no matter what your pitter-pattering heart yearns for, do _not_ come inside. Cullen will be coming out through the doors. Your job is to get him the fuck _away_. Fenris will help you. Just get back here.'

'I understand.'

Together, they made their way carefully up towards the barn that might have been a slaughter house, upon closer inspection. Jassen pointed to a place near the doors, a hidden corner created by a log storage shed on the porch. He was silent, but his instruction was clear. _Wait there for Cullen._

Then he nodded at Dorian once and opened the doors.

Light bloomed over him, illuminating his face and he stepped inside, letting the doors shut behind him. Dorian wasted no time in fleeing his position there, hurrying to the side of the doors where he was still hidden, but he could see through rough, wooden cracks.

There were at least fifteen men inside, heavily armed, all holding machine guns. They didn't aim them at Jassen, but they watched his approach warily.

In the centre was a man with salt and pepper slicked back hair, a pristine suit and a _leash_ in his hand that he was absently twirling like a small skipping rope.

A leash that when Dorian lifted himself to better see, led to Cullen.

*

_Cullen's favourite way of performing was to sneak somewhere unexpected and pop up on stage to an unsuspecting crowd. Dorian didn't know if it was because of that time in Prague or that he just loved the spontaneity of it all. He would ask Dorian to pick somewhere, Fenris and Thom would spend a whole day scoping it out, making it safe, doing what they did best and protecting them all, and then they'd go._

_Josie filmed it, Lee managed everything else, Sera, Lana and Alistair cheered and clapped especially loud. Dorian stayed to the side and watched his boyfriend do what he did best._

_It became a thing. A "Where Will He Be Next?" thing and Dorian loved it, couldn't deny how much he_ adored _watching his boyfriend play and sing and make that magic that only he could. He sung the new songs from the recent album, entitled_ Ocean Deep. _People had learnt the words, they sang along, hands in the air and Dorian closed his eyes, heard only Cullen singing his love songs._

_When he sang_ Safe _, when he sang_ With Me, We Could Be Friends, Worth Falling, _and best of all, when he sang_ Home _._

_And when he did bigger performances, places he was paid to be, Dorian was always there too. Backstage, waiting with open arms for Cullen to collide, to move into him, all breathless, heart racing from the high of performing, there to kiss him, praise him, love him. Sometimes Cullen would pick him up, legs around his waist, walk all the way to the car that way, Fenris and Thom paving a clean path for them, the kiss unbroken all the way home._

_Sometimes, Dorian would take pictures of Cullen while he performed, using his new camera. If Cullen approved it, which he usually did, he'd let Dorian post them to his social media account. They tended to get seven or eight million likes a piece. Now and then Cullen would refuse, shaking his head with a secret smile and Dorian would print that one instead, frame it, hang it in their bedroom because it was too special to share with the world._

_Too special for anyone but themselves._

*

Cullen was on his knees, the leather strap attached to a collar around his throat. His arms were bound behind his back and he was gagged, but he watched Jassen's approach with wide, alert eyes.

'You are alone,' the man holding the leash observed. 'I dare to hope you did not fail me, little dragon, so pray tell where have you stowed him? Some place safe? Did he fight you in the end?'

Jassen knelt down before Cullen, touching his face with a degree of care that made Dorian feel like he was tumbling forward. Cullen didn't flinch away, but he frowned deeply. Jassen muttered something and Cullen shook his head.

'It wasn't necessary to hurt him,' Jassen said, pushing up off his knees to stand, facing the man.

With a careless laugh, the man shrugged. 'Until you have something to show me, this is _my_ property. What I do with him is my concern. Where is Fenris?'

'He's agreed to meet you elsewhere.'

The man's eyes narrowed a fraction. 'Why are you lying to me? The deal I offer is fair, is it not? Your obsession for mine, that is a good trade, considering how you have offended my honour, time and again. Even dared to stand against me, unwise and foolish in the extreme, yet here I am, ready to trade _in person_ but you are empty handed. How… rude.'

Cullen made a noise of disgust, of quiet, hissing outrage, but the gag muffled the worst of it. The man pulled cruelly on the leash and Dorian's fingers dug into the wood hard enough to bend his nails back.

'Your _obsession_ tests my patience at every turn. Where is Fenris?'

'He's agreed to the exchange, but will only do it somewhere you can't then _shoot_ Cullen once you get what you want. He might be willing to sacrifice himself, but he's not completely stupid.'

The man did not like that word, Dorian could tell. His gaze became sharp, corner of his mouth turning down. 'My little wolf ran rings around you back in the day, or have you so quickly forgotten?'

'I have not.'

The older man cocked his head, taking a step forward and dragging Cullen with him. Dorian watched in muted, strangled horror as his boyfriend shuffled quickly forward before he fell. As he came into the light from above, Dorian could see bruises, blood and a nasty cut running into his hairline, but otherwise, he seemed all right. Dorian clung to that.

'Would you dare come to me in failure, I wonder? Are you truly brave enough to stand there, while I hold what you love by a leash, and _lie to me_?'

Jassen tipped his chin. 'I have never failed you, Danarius.'

'Bold claim from the idiot boy who allowed himself to be discovered. To be _replaced_.’

‘I planted evidence of the Trevelyan’s complicity on their private network after you leaked intelligence of their involvement.’

‘A task I could have given to a dog.’

‘It is done regardless and I—'

Your assurances mean little, but I _did_ trust in your desire to see this one,' Danarius said, glancing down at Cullen with a stunning degree of loathing. 'Kept alive.'

'Fenris would die for his friend,' Jassen said, steady and confident. 'He would do anything for him. He also knew it was inevitable you would come for him one day. He's waiting for you.'

'Where?'

'Two miles north east in a rural train station. You meet him there, put Cullen on the train and once the doors close, he'll allow you to take him.'

Danarius looked over Jassen head to toe, analytical and cold.

'You're lying.'

'I am not.'

'It was never your strongest talent,' Danarius said, hint of disgust evident. 'Generosity would have me lending credence to the idea that you simply do not _trust_ in my ability to hand this one over to you, even if the bargain were fulfilled. That is a reasonable fear, but I am a man of my _word_ , little dragon and no matter how much I long to see _this one_ split open, I would have honoured our agreement.' He took another step closer. ' _However_ , I have been generous in the past and it has not served me well. Therefore I trust my instincts when they whisper that you,' he glared, thin mouth curving. 'Could not get your _hands_ on my Fenris. That you failed and came here in a last ditch effort to stall, to buy time.'

'You're wrong.'

‘ _Prove_ me wrong, or hear how high I can make your _lover_ scream. He has quite the range, you know.’

Slowly, Jassen withdrew Fenris's glove, folded neatly.

Danarius shrugged. 'That could be anyone's.'

So Jassen pulled out the lock of hair, placing it atop the glove. 'He cut it himself, told me to show you he's waiting for you somewhere he can be _assured_ his friend will be safe.'

Danarius stared, extending a thin, long fingered hand towards the hair, something hungry in his eyes.

'He truly offers to come home willingly, then?'

'For Cullen's life, yes.'

'What did you tell him?'

'Nothing. He figured it out himself.'

Staring at the silver white hair, Danarius smiled, sickly sweet, like rotting fruit. 'He was always so _clever_ , my little wolf. Very well, Jassen, I believe you.'

He gave a sharp nod to the man on his right. Lightning fast, that same man lifted his gun and shot Jassen in the chest. The force of the bullet knocked him back, sent him completely flat and Dorian had to cover his mouth to stop a panicked sound slipping free. Cullen tried to move forward but Danarius yanked him cruelly back.

_No matter what you see happening, no matter what your pitter-pattering heart yearns for, do not come inside._

The assassin was silent and worryingly still when Danarius bent down, carefully plucked the lock of white hair and the glove from his open palm. He rose, peering at Jassen curiously.

'Head shot,' he instructed to the man who'd fired the gun. 'He's tricky.'

In the next second, there was a bang, but it did not come from a gun.

*

_'What do you want for Christmas, baby?'_

_Dorian finished hanging the bauble on their tree with flourish. 'I haven't really thought. Are we doing gifts, then?'_

_Cullen looked indignant. 'Are we—the fuck? Have you_ met _me?'_

_Dorian grinned. 'Oh God, you're going to go mental.'_

_'No, we can set a limit.'_

_‘Which means you'll go mental with finding the most emotional, perfect, personal thing on the planet and making me sob hysterically on Christmas day, for under twenty quid.'_

_Cullen stood on tiptoes to reach the top of the tree. Behind them in the kitchen, Sophia was rolling gingerbread dough with Lana and Sera, making a glorious mess of it too. 'Come on, there must be something you want.'_

_'Not to get overly mushy, but I literally already_ have _everything I want.'_

_'Nothing_ _… sparkly?'_

_He said it casually, tying foil wrapped chocolates to the lower branches of their tree, well within reach of Sophia's grasp. Dorian looked at him, peering around the pine scented blockade._

_'What does that mean? Sparkly?'_

_Cullen shrugged, delicate smile playing about his features._

_'You like sparkly things.'_

_'I have sparkly things already,' Dorian said suspiciously._

_'Yes, you have beautiful rings, I love them,' Cullen said. 'Just_ _… didn't know if you wanted another one.'_

_Dorian's lips parted, speech failing him entirely._

_'Daddy! Come make the faces, Sera is rubbish at it!'_

_'That's cos she gave them all wangs,' Lana snickered._

_Cullen's gaze darted over to the kitchen and back again, chuckling in that way he did when he was nervous sometimes, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Well, have a think about it.'_

_Dorian stared at the tree, at the glittering objects, at the tinsel and the fake snow sprayed on with glee and relish, or what little had actually made it onto the tree before Dorian had started spraying Cullen._

_He put the next decoration on, unable to ignore the way his fingers trembled, nor the way he had to bite down a smile._

*

Danarius's hand _exploded,_ bright orange light blinding Dorian and causing him to flinch away from the wooden sides of the barn, but he was back seconds later, blinking blearily through colours swimming before his eyes, watching as the room devolved into utmost chaos.

And that _chaos_ was Jassen.

He was on his feet, killing anyone who came near him. Impossibly fast, strong, _lethal._ He snapped necks, he pulled throats out, plunged that small knife deep where it would hurt most and then he got hold of a gun. He didn’t waste bullets, one shot per head as he moved constantly, dodging and using them as cover. It was total fucking madness.

Cullen scrambled awkwardly away from Danarius as the once pristine man rolled around on the floor, screaming like a banshee, clutching the bloody stump that had been his hand.

The superstar struggled against his restraints and, oh God, Dorian needed to get _in_ there, needed to help him right the fuck now.

But Jassen was faster. Using one man as cover, he made for Cullen, cut the restraints quickly, firing bullets in every direction, even as he covered Cullen's body with his own. Once free, he backed Cullen towards the double doors, turned and shoved him _hard_ through them.

And then those doors were bursting open. The force of Jassen's push sent Cullen stumbling and crashing, landing on his back as light flooded the outside. Dorian ran over, crouched low and grabbed him, began insistently dragging him _away_ , bullets whizzing through wood and inside, someone else screamed, a terrible sound, but it wasn’t Jassen.

'Cullen, are you hurt?' Dorian panted, pulling his gag down, freeing his mouth. He wasted no time in yanking him upright.

Cullen's eyes went impossibly wide even as he got to his feet. ' _Dorian_? Oh my God, what—?'

'We can't stop,' Dorian said, heart in his throat, not daring to look at the barn. 'Can you walk?'

'Legs are numb, but— _fuck_ , baby are-are you OK?'

‘Am _I_ OK? Jesus Christ, c’mon.’ Dorian pulled Cullen's forearm over his shoulders, holding him around the waist and then began to move as fast as he could into the darkness, towards that familiar destination. Towards the huddle of trees where Fenris would be, hopefully _awake_ and alert and remembering where the car was by now.

'I'm fine,' he told Cullen, not stopping for a single second, not trusting that at any moment, the situation wouldn’t turn _bad_. 'We're almost there, it's just—'

Agony unlike anything tore through his thigh and he collapsed heavily, nothing to prevent it. He took Cullen down with him, the pair landing awkwardly in the mud. Dorian screamed through his teeth, white hot pain shocking through his nervous system.

'Get up, get _up,'_ Cullen was panting and Dorian, he had a whole thing where he was going to tell Cullen to _run_. Run to the trees, leave him behind, but he never got the fucking chance because there were _people_ , men, Danarius's men. Rough hands and cable ties amid the _ocean swell_ of agony in his leg, dragging them back towards the barn. Cullen was fighting hard, they both were, but there were too many.

Someone opened the back of a truck, the kind of thing police used to transport prisoners and they threw them in there. They'd come _out_ of the same truck, Dorian realised. Backup forces, probably parked nearby.

'THROW HIM IN THERE!' he heard Danarius scream in a terrible voice. 'If he lives, I'll take him apart until he's a head on a stick and if he's dead, I'll have him _taxidermized_ as a personal fuck toy, that little _cunt_!'

Jassen's limp, unconscious form was thrown in a moment later and then the doors slammed shut, locking from the outside. Dorian fumbled for Cullen; shaky, numb hands finding him in the near pitch black as the van began to move and Danarius's furious screams faded.

'You shouldn't have _come_ ,' Cullen was saying, crying really, even as he pulled Dorian into a desperate hug, their chests meeting, faces pressed close. 'You shouldn't—' his breath hitched, holding Dorian tighter, crying into his hair as he kissed it. 'I love you so much.'

Dorian, face buried in Cullen's neck said, 'I love you more.'

*

The truck was moving fast, but not recklessly so. Driven by experts who kept it steady, Dorian had the chance to take out Fenris's pack after he checked his phone, which was smashed to shit, but could still be traced along with his bracelet. So he hid it in the back of his shoe, swapped the bracelet to his ankle as well, invisible beneath the sock.

With a small torch from the pack, Cullen examined Dorian’s thigh which was bleeding heavily. ‘We can tie your belt around it, make a tourniquet. Let me help you, here.’

Together, they managed it.

‘Are there bandages in there?’

Dorian looked. There were, but what caught his eye was the small cannister. Same plain metal one Anders had used earlier. Beside it was a single syringe of something that glowed very faintly blue, even in the dark.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s… hard to explain. Helps to heal, I think.’

‘You should have it then,’ Cullen said, wrapping a bandage around Dorian’s wound. He grit his teeth against the pain, enduring best he could.

‘No, I’m OK,’ he said. ‘It’s hardly bleeding now.’

‘Dorian—’

‘He needs it,’ Dorian cut across, hating himself for even saying it, but knowing it was true. ‘He’s… fuck, he’s dying and he needs it, he can protect you. Maybe keep us alive long enough until Fenris comes.’

Cullen shook his head, still focused on packing gauze against Dorian’s thigh, both sides. ‘Bullet went through, that’s something.’

‘We’re going to have to use this to save him,’ Dorian repeated. ‘It’s like foam. You spray it into the wound and it helps. Then we inject him in the stomach with this. It’ll stop him going into a coma.’

‘Is it from Anders?’ Cullen asked, eyeing it warily.

‘Yeah. Fenris mentioned it?’

‘Something similar, once or twice. Told me about the blue thing. I suppose you’re right.’

Once he was sure Dorian wasn’t bleeding anymore, he used the torch to look over Jassen's wounds. He'd been shot a _lot_ in the chest, but Fenris's vest had protected him from the worst of that.

Three other bullet holes presented a more pressing problem. His upper arm, side of his stomach and one so close to his collarbone it had Dorian wincing in phantom sympathy.

'He was trying to protect me,' Cullen said, tearing off a strip of his shirt to wad into a ball and press against the wounds because there were precious few bandages left. 'That man, Danarius, he told me. Jassen had been protecting me from him for years, watching over me.'

'Who _is_ he?'

'The mob boss behind the pits. The man whose _empire_ I apparently destroyed. Shit, he's bleeding to death.'

‘Use the thing.’

Cullen seemed torn. ‘You might need it later on.’

‘I’ll be fine and he’s stronger than both of us. Come on, I can’t kneel like you or else I’d do it.’

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, nodding. ‘OK. What do I do?’

Between Dorian’s instructions and Cullen’s able hands, despite all Jassen's warm, slippery blood and the constant unexpected movement of being in motion, they managed to fill the assassin’s wounds with the acrid foam. The cannister was small, no bigger than an asthma pump and it was completely empty by the time Cullen finished, having to use far less for the wound in his upper arm which he’d left until last.

‘What now?’

‘Now inject him in the stomach with this,’ Dorian said quietly, handing Cullen the syringe after he tapped it for air bubbles and squirted a tiny dribble.

Cullen pinched a chunk of skin to the side of Jassen’s belly button and gently jabbed the needle in, depressing the plunger slowly and then withdrew it.

‘Is something supposed to… happen?’

Dorian winced as he moved closer, holding the torch over the assassin. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t there with Fenris when he—’

Jassen began to shake, to lightly convulse all over. Eyes closed, blood streaked and shirtless, his entire body began to shudder and tremble as if caught in the centre of an earthquake.

‘Oh, Christ,’ Cullen breathed, carefully pressing his palms against his chest to hold him down. ‘His mouth, look!’

Dorian shone the torch and saw a thin bubbly trail of foam leaking past his lips.

‘His skin is way too hot, is this what’s supposed to happen?’

‘I have literally no idea,’ he whispered, panicking that maybe they’d somehow just _accidentally_ killed Jassen. ‘Maybe we should have done a bit at a time or—’

Jassen took a huge, screaming breath, eyes slamming wide. Only Cullen’s hands holding him down stopped him from shooting upwards, arms and legs kicking into gear.

‘Hey, shhhh,’ Cullen bade, pressing on his good shoulder, trying to reassure the killer. ‘Shhh, don’t let them hear, they might pull over. It’s OK, you’re OK.’

Jassen’s mouth was open, his entire body shuddering violently. ‘Hurts,’ he managed to utter with a shaking breath. ‘Hurts everywhere.’

Cullen nodded briskly. ‘We saved you, I think. Gave you some kind of healing agent.’

Jassen swallowed thickly, eyes closing for a moment. ‘Burning.’

‘That _might_ be the other thing we gave you,’ Dorian chimed in quietly. ‘A blue injection.’

Jassen hissed and grit his teeth, reaching for Cullen’s wrist when the man made to move away, gripping and holding him there for a moment.

‘You’re OK?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Cullen said. ‘Dorian was shot.’

‘Where?’

‘In the leg.’

He turned his head, which seemed to require extraordinary effort and looked down. ‘Missed the main artery. Be fine.’ He lifted his dark eyes to Dorian and said, ‘Told you to get him _away_.’

‘You’d be dead if it wasn’t for us.’

Astonishingly, Jassen managed a breathless, jagged little laugh. ‘Might wish I was once we get where we’re going.’

He relaxed his grip on Cullen’s wrists and dropped his hands as his breathing slowed, his chest stopped heaving. He blinked tears down his face, wiping his mouth.

Dread curling in his gut, Dorian asked, ‘Where _are_ we going?’

Jassen grimaced. ‘Home.’

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was quite a bit longer (and more plot heavy) than I intended for this one chapter, but I really hope you liked it. The next part (may or may not be Cullen's final Past POV Slice of Life) will most likely come a few days after Christmas, if not more, but there will one hundred percent be an update between Christmas and New Year.   
> Your feedback and kindness means the universe to me, so thank you all again.   
> Merry Christmas if I don't see you before!   
> 💜💜💜


	30. If All Of The Strength and All Of The Courage Come and Lift Me From This Place (I Know I Could Love You Much Better Than This)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. My regret at the lateness of this is beyond words and I apologise for making everyone wait. The DOOM of this was impressive, start to finish. Me, stupidly thinking this would be up before 2021, me, stupidly having a crisis in the middle of writing about whether or not I should delay this chapter, me, panicking and realising that it was going to be way longer than a planned (because Ofc) add to that exhaustion, lockdown, kids off school and my life in flux. I feel HORRIBLE that it's so late, but I promise, there was zero slacking. Just doom. 
> 
> SO. There is some mild, absolutely not explicit attempted non-con in this chapter but I have used *** instead of * where the scene will take place, making it (hopefully) easier to avoid. Otherwise, this isn't actually bad in terms of domestic abuse angst; those two scenes really are the worst of it, I promise. I really hope you guys like this NOVEL LENGTH CHAPTER THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME and I promise, it's the last of it's kind. Normal, 25k chapters from now on as we plunge into the third arc. Happy New Year to everyone. 
> 
> Hope you like it! 💜💜💜  
> [NOTE: Matt is basically a younger Jeffrey Dean Morgan, in case it isn't clear. (I’m certain it's clear)]

'Where the fuck, may I ask, is home?'

Dorian's snippy tone was like a balm to Cullen. He clung to it, held close the belief that if Dorian could be snarky in that gorgeous bratty tone then he wasn't so badly hurt, that he would be all right.

Jassen didn't answer for a long, tense moment, staring ahead at nothing and Cullen wanted to shove him, to make him answer Dorian, but he forced himself to be patient, even though his mind was running a million miles a minute, adrenaline and terror clashing thickly.

'He has this place,' Jassen said eventually. 'It's underground. We're probably going there. It's not far.'

'How long until we're there?'

'Half an hour, maybe less.' Jassen looked over at Dorian and despite what he knew now, Cullen couldn't help but want to protect Dorian, to shield him. 'You got your bracelet on?'

'Yeah,' Dorian answered quietly. 'I moved it to my ankle.'

Jassen breathed a half laugh. 'He'll find it.'

'He might not.'

'He uses trackers too, or he did, back in the day,' Jassen said with a dispassionate shrug. 'He'll find it on you.'

'Even if he finds it, Lee and Anders will see where the signal ended.'

'Not if he has someone drive to Scotland with it. Give it to me.'

Hand extended, Dorian looked to Cullen. The weight of any indecision was heavy, so he chose quickly, praying he was making the right choice when he nodded.

Dorian removed it from his ankle, handed it over slowly. They watched under the light of the small torch as Jassen put the thin device between his index and middle fingers and then pushed those fingers right down his throat, not gagging once. He pushed and he _pushed_ and Cullen felt vaguely sick just from the empathy of it. He swallowed a few times and then grimaced.

'Ow.'

'I can't believe you just did that,' Dorian muttered and Cullen wished he could protect him more, protect him at all.

'Jassen,' he said urgently, drawing the man's attention. 'Can you open those doors?'

Jassen shook his head. 'They lock from the outside. Believe me.'

'I do believe you. Please, tell us what we're going into.'

'If it's where I think,' Jassen said calmly, soft with resigned despair. 'Then it'll be where the family used to take people to hold them. Torture and eventually dispose of them.'

'The family?'

'Their whole crime syndicate. Before the rings collapsed, Danarius was the head of the family. Eldest of the three brothers. He fled when they fell and left the younger two behind. The empire mostly collapsed, only the strongest parts of it remained. Wet works and whores, nothing else.'

Cullen was holding Dorian's hand and that point of contact felt like the whole world then. 'Can you protect Dorian?'

Jassen and Dorian spoke at the same time.

'There is no point protecting Dorian if I can't protect you.'

'I don't _need_ protecting and we are in this together, so let me save you some time before you start self-sacrificing, Rutherford!'

'I just mean…' but he sighed in defeat. 'OK, everything together, I know. Sorry.'

Dorian shuffled closer and Cullen could hardly stand it then, how much he loved him, how terrified he was of what would happen when those doors opened from the outside.

He closed his eyes, swallowing as he said to Jassen, 'You were the shadow, weren't you?'

Dorian looked up, brow rumpling with wary confusion but Jassen's expression cleared, lightened.

'You remember.'

'You were… trying to protect me?' Jassen nodded, watching Cullen with a strange kind of faint wonder. 'And that was you, that night Madeline tried to…'

'I would have killed her,' Jassen said, the words tumbling out. 'But I didn't want to implicate you. For the first time in a long time, I didn't know what to do. Tried to make it look like a burglary or something.'

'Thank you for that,' Cullen said, insides aching just thinking of that awful night. 'Jassen, you've done really bad things but I… I know you were trying to keep me safe and so,' he took a breath. 'Please will you help us now?'

'Of course I will,' Jassen said, like it was obvious, or should have been. 'I'd do anything for you.'

Dorian was entirely rigid beside him, but he didn't say anything and Cullen was grateful for it.

'Thank you,' he said as earnestly as possible. 'We'll try and protect you too.'

'Just… don't antagonise him,' Jassen said, voice dropping. 'Your friend will come, hopefully with the other, but this isn't the kind of guy who'll tie you up and waste time explaining himself. He might just open the back of the van and execute us all, I don't know. I'm _hoping_ ,' he added in a strained way. 'That he hates you enough to keep you alive. For what you did, obviously. Thank you, by the way.'

Cullen blinked. 'For… what?'

'For everything,' Jassen said. 'For not sending me to prison, for saving me from the one I got pulled into. I know it seems crazy to you, that I seem like a monster and the truth is I am, but,’ he paused, tilting his head. ‘I’m _your_ monster and I'm going to do everything I can to keep you alive. You _and_ him.' The last was said a bit more grudgingly, but Cullen would take what he could.

'Thank you.’

Jassen nodded and began to rifle through the kit, through his own pockets. Cullen drew Dorian into his arms.

'I love you,' he told Dorian. 'I love you so much.'

Dorian made a tiny sound and it threatened to break Cullen's heart.

'I love you more. I'm so sorry about this morning. Jesus, how was that only this morning?' Dorian's arms slid around his neck and he pressed kisses to his cheek. 'I didn't mean what I said, it was all just so stupid and none of that matters.'

Cullen sniffed, wiping his eyes as they drew apart and he took a deep, shaky breath. 'Well, in the interest of coming entirely clean, let me tell you now what I should have told you when we first met.'

*

_'How old were you when you met your bodyguard?'_

_'Uh, six, I think? Yeah, six.'_

_'That's very young. The rumours about you being best friends are true, then?'_

_'Yes, we are. Leliana too, my manager.'_

_'How old when you met her?'_

_'Uh_ _…seven?'_

_'Wow! So, the three of you have always been really close, then?'_

_'Yeah, we're best friends.'_

_'And you're fine with your best friend risking his life to protect you on a daily basis?'_

_'Um_ _… it's… what he wants to… do?'_

_'What about relationships? You've said you're bisexual? Isn't that just halfway to gay?'_

_'I'm not gay.'_

_'No? Prefer women then?'_

_'There's no preference. It depends on the person.'_

_'Seeing anyone right now?'_

_'No.'_

_'Are the rumours true you have a daughter?'_

_'I have a daughter, yes.'_

_'What's her name?'_

_'No.'_

_'It's just for our record, we won't print it.'_

_'No.'_

_'All right, how about we discuss some of the songs?'_

_'Fine.'_

_'You seem on edge.'_

_'I-I'm not, I'm fine.'_

_'Tell me about_ Look Away _. There's a fair amount of discussion about the subject of that song, theories that it depicts domestic abuse, is that accurate?'_

_'It's about a lot of things.'_

_'Were you in a domestically violent relationship with a man in the past?'_

_'No.'_

_'Many of your songs have themes similar to this one, speak a lot about isolation and sadness, pain and heartbreak.'_

_'They can be interpreted however—'_

_'What about the song_ Hold Me Up? _It seems to imply you've had something more than friendly feelings for your bodyguard and manager, could you confirm whether or not there's a relationship there, past or present?'_

_'And that's time up, I'm afraid, thank you. Come on, Cullen.'_

_'We can finish up by phone if you like!'_

_'No, we're done. Let's go.'_

_*_

_'That was a fucking disaster.'_

_Cullen dropped his head into his hands. 'I_ hate _these things.'_

_Leliana sighed, pulling on his sweater over her thin, fashionable shirt while Fenris made tea in Cullen's kitchen. 'You need media training, I've told you before.'_

_'It wasn't that bad before.'_

_'She's a hack,' Fenris said, placing three mugs down on the table. 'We should have had Josie there.'_

_Lee pulled her hair up into a rough ponytail. 'Even so, Josie can't give the interview_ for _him and Cally Healy is a big deal in the media world, we can't just avoid her. He needs training.'_

 _Cullen groaned. 'Can't I just_ _… not do them anymore? I get flustered and I don't know what to_ say _!'_

_'I know,' Lee said, patting his shoulder. 'And we'll sort it. Train you up.'_

_Fenris seemed doubtful. 'Training won't stop them asking invasive questions like that.'_

_'No, but it'll teach Cullen how to navigate them better. That was, as I said, an absolute fucking disaster. If I thought there was any chance of stopping her from running it, I'd be all over it.'_

_Fenris looked mildly indignant. 'What if she wanted sex?'_

_'Then you or me would be there right now,' Lee said irritably. 'That was a hatchet job. It'll be everywhere for days._ Cullen Rutherford and his menage a trois!'

_'OK, OK,' Cullen relented, reaching for his mug. 'I'll do the training thing, whatever you need me to do.'_

_'It's for the best, darling,' Lee said kindly. 'We need to develop a game face. Protect ourselves and our lives.'_

_Fenris looked down, tapping the side of his mug. 'Our secrets.'_

_'Exactly.'_

_Cullen nodded to himself, trying to erase the horrible sick feeling of how badly he'd fucked that up. It wasn't unexpected, how much it_ hurt _to let them down, but he'd thought he was doing better, he really had._

_The notion that he was off his game, drifting away from his centre of determined gravity occurred to him again. He swallowed over the painful lump that arose at the very thought of her, of Sophia. She would be almost eighteen months now. Maybe walking, maybe babbling a few words. He had no idea._

_'I'll be better,' he promised them, trying to master himself._

_Fenris rubbed his back. 'You don't need to be better. You’re already amazing. This was just something we should have foreseen.'_

_'That the media are scummy twats?' Lee chuckled._

_'Precisely this,' Fenris said and Cullen appreciated them trying to make things better for him, make light of it. He leaned closer to Fenris, heads resting together and took a soothingly deep breath. 'Exhale the worst of it,' his friend told him. 'And let's move on.'_

_Cullen did as he was told._

_*_

_'You're miserable here,' Fenris would tell him, looking around Cullen's flat. It was nice, spacious and well-furnished but Fenris was right, he usually was. Cullen was miserable there. He missed the other place, missed the little pieces of Sophia sunk into the walls. Memories and reminders._

_'I don't mind it,' Cullen said as they sat together that night, just the two of them, some old movie playing in the background, a half-eaten pizza in the box between them. In truth, he didn't care where he lived. There was a level of detachment to things that were_ his _. He was happier in Fenris's tiny flat or in Lee's massive, sprawling place where he always had a spare bedroom, but sometimes she had company and he didn't want to intrude more than he already did._

_'OK, then you're just plain miserable. What can I do?'_

_Cullen blinked, not realising he was in the middle of a one man intervention. 'Oh. No, you already do plenty and I—I really am fine. Just. Y'know.'_

_'Sophia.'_

_Cullen fiddled with the zip on his cushions, trying to navigate his way around the hole in his heart. 'Yeah.'_

_'We've got a lot of performances coming up in the next three weeks' Fenris reminded him gently. 'It's going to be rough.'_

_'I know, I've toured before.'_

_'We'll both be there with you for all of it.'_

_'I know. I appreciate everything.'_

_'No, that—I just want to help.'_

_He wished he could smile. 'You're the only reason I'm here, you and Lee. You do enough already. Can't I help_ you _, somehow?'_

_Fenris sat back, unprepared for that. 'I'm fine.'_

_'We haven't talked about it in a long time.'_

_Looking slowly to the side, automatic shields lowering, Fenris nodded. 'It's easier not to.'_

_'She's still upset.'_

_'For entirely the wrong reason.'_

_'She's allowed to be upset, she loves you.'_

_'Yes, but she's_ not _upset about the three scars I gave her, not to mention permanent damage to—'_

 _'Fen, you can't use that forever. It was an accident. She_ loves _you and you love her.'_

 _'I_ hurt _her,' he ground out softly. 'I stabbed her three times in the stomach and she nearly died. I did that while I was sleeping, dreaming. My unguarded moments almost killed her. I don't know how to move forward from that. How could I ever sleep with her again? Lose control? Close my eyes when tired? I fear_ _…' he took a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the quietly playing movie in the background. 'More than anything, I fear letting my guard down and something_ bad _coming out.'_

_'There is nothing bad inside you.'_

_'I tried to gut her.'_

_'You were dreaming, it was a nightmare.'_

_'Exactly, I was remembering things. A voice. Pieces of that_ _… that life.'_

_'It was only because you had the knife—'_

_Fenris scoffed. 'I could kill her with my bare hands in less than a second. I could kill anyone. There's something_ _… sick inside me, something dark and vile and I can't - I_ won't _\- take the risk of letting it come out when my defences are low. I just won't.'_

_Cullen looked down again, swallowing slightly. 'I understand.'_

_'I pray you don't.'_

_'Madeline, she,' he began, but found the words unwilling to come forth. 'It was more difficult to be in control when I was tired. She knew that and she_ _… exploited it.'_

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'I am too. For everything. I know it's difficult for you to see Lee with others.'_

_Fenris shrugged. 'I want to see her happy. If I can't give that to her, why should she suffer alone? She deserves to be happy and fulfilled, doesn't she?'_

_'Don't_ you _?'_

 _'I'm a killer,' Fenris said calmly, gaze locked unseeingly on the TV. 'A weapon. It's only you two that keep me here, keep me as I was before, even just a little. Underneath all this, there's something monstrous. I know I should look at it, I know I should let you tell me everything but I_ _…' he blinked tears down his face, numb and disconnected. 'I fear what will happen to me, to_ Fenris _. To the boy you befriended when we were stupid kids.'_

_He tried to laugh, wiping his eyes with sudden self-consciousness, but Cullen couldn't bear it another moment, reached across the sofa, shoved the pizza box away and pulled Fenris into his arms. He crawled to him as he pulled, needing to comfort his best friend, needing to make him see._

_And it felt natural, so plainly_ natural _, to want to kiss it all away, all the bad, all the grief and blame, sticky tar-like sadness that seemed determined to creep into their lives at every turn. He wrapped one arm around his best friend's back, the other drawing him closer with their fingers tangled together and it was pure, unfiltered_ instinct _, to kiss him._

_He just hadn't counted on Fenris doing the same thing._

_And so their lips met, not cheeks, not jawline, not the sides of their faces or foreheads. Their lips met in precise, clear cut fashion and it_ still _didn't register even when Fenris made a tiny noise, a broken sob and Cullen realised his hand was in Fenris's hair and they were pressed together, kneeling on the sofa and it was_ _… not what he'd intended, not at_ all _what he'd meant to do_ _…_

 _But it didn't really register until he felt his body stirring in_ that way. _Long since dormant desire for closeness, for proximity, for depth and warmth and_ friction, _all permitted under the balm of_ trust. _It was swirling gently within, muddled up with all the love he had for Fenris, his best friend, who he'd known since he was six, who he shared everything in the world with. Who_ was _his world in so many ways._

_Fenris's hand was on his cheek, moving gently, thumb caressing his cheekbone. He felt his best friend's heart beating against his own, pounding insistence born of despair and loss and too many other knotted elements that sought to strangle and choke that most precious organ._

_And for a second, he let himself feel it._

_He let himself feel the weight of how much Fenris loved him. He let himself imagine how it could be, to be loved the way he never had. For that love to manifest physically, to be taken_ care _of, to be laid down and have all that weight removed from his shoulders. To take comfort together, to grieve and love, to find solace in one another, however they fit. To kiss deeper, to find out what his friend tasted like. To chase noises from his lips and make him see how fucking_ wonderful _he was, how perfect, how beautiful. More than anything he wanted for himself, he wanted_ that _. To make his best friend happy, yes. That was the driving force, undeniable once identified._

_He let himself imagine it all and then he untangled his hand from Fenris's hair, cupped his cheeks and pressed another, more final kiss there, moving away only a fraction, opening his eyes._

_'I love you,' he said to Fenris, his whisper hoarse and unsteady from how hard his heart was beating. 'I love you so much.'_

_Fenris encircled his arms around Cullen's neck, kissed his cheek and the embrace became a cuddle. The moment eased, it blended into the next, back into familiar territory. There were no apologies, no false modesty or awkward laughs. Cullen thought that if Fenris had really wanted that, had needed it, he would have offered it, but it hadn't gone that way._

_'I love you too,' Fenris whispered._

_'Stay here tonight?' Cullen asked when they drew apart, Fenris's fingers gripping the material of his shirt. 'Please?'_

_'I'll sleep downstairs.'_

_'No,' Cullen said, shaking his head. 'Fen, please. Please, I hate sleeping alone.'_

_Fenris closed his eyes tight. 'What if I hurt you too?'_

_'You won't,' Cullen said, trying not to rush the words, to let his eagerness overcome confidence. 'And even if you tried, I'm bigger than you, I'm stronger.'_

_Fenris opened his eyes enough to give Cullen a, "_ yeah right _" kind of look and Cullen laughed, throaty and strangely calm to his own ears._

_'OK, you're stronger than me, but we used to sleep together all the time and you never hurt me once. You don't have a weapon and I_ _… please? Please, just stay here. I'll stay awake all night if you want, so you can just rest. It's so quiet here at night and I…'_

_Fenris stroked the side of his face, eyes moving over him as if seeing him for the first time. 'You are strong,' he said, nodding. 'I know you are.' He sighed and let his hand drop gently away. 'OK. I'll stay. But no sex.'_

_Cullen burst out laughing, Fenris's smile anchoring him in an unbreakable sense of surety that they could laugh about it, that it wasn't something they had to feel bad about or agonise over._

_And even though Cullen very distantly noted that something in his perception of Fenris had shifted, it didn't make any difference to their relationship, not really. It was a path not taken, a solitary fork in the road that they would probably never return to and Cullen felt no need to shy from it, to pretend it did not exist._

_He playfully shoved Fenris and scooped up a piece of now cold, but no less delicious pizza, offering it to his best friend, who took it._

_'No sex,' he agreed cheerfully, grabbing a slice for himself and changing the channel. 'Christ, the last thing we need is for things to be even more tangled between the three of us, eh?'_

_*_

_'I think a threesome is the only solution,' Lee said, scribbling notes in a file, completely matter-of-fact._

_Cullen shook himself slightly, blinking hard. Her office was warm and welcoming, the high backed chair extremely comfortable but surely he hadn't drifted off into sleep_ that _easily, had he?_

_'Wh-what?'_

_She looked up, frowning that he wasn't following her flawless logic. 'A threesome. With Fenris.'_

_Mouth opening slowly, Cullen was stupefied. 'Um.'_

_Lee rolled her eyes and heaved a great sigh. 'Not with_ you _, silly.'_

_'Oh!' he burst out, painfully relieved. 'Oh, OK, for a minute there I really thought—'_

_She had the good grace to laugh. 'Cullen, I love you so much, I really do, but dear God no.'_

_'I just thought_ _… because of what I told you…'_

_'I mean, that's given me the idea,' she said, returning to her notes._

_'So, you're not mad?'_

_'That you and he kissed? Not at all. I'm pleased. It's good that he's reconciling comfort with physicality.' Looking up with a somewhat roguish grin, she added, 'If you weren't literally my soul-twin, I might even find it kind of sexy.'_

_'Bleugh,_ Lee _!'_

_'I'm teasing, it's_ _…' she waved her hand, searching for a suitable word. 'Revolting, how's that?'_

_'Better.' He looked down at her magnificent desk; jagged deep sea mother of pearl beneath glassy resin. With a contemplative expression, he said, 'I think maybe we could have done it, though. I never used to think that.'_

_'Again,' she said. 'That's a good thing. It's hard for you to associate sex and love.'_

_'I don't think of_ you _that way.'_

_'Nor I you, love.'_

_'So you don't want a threesome with me and Fenris?'_

_Leliana set down her pen, reaching for her phone, but she paused when it was in hand, looking out of her window pensively._

_'In a weird way,' she said. 'I suppose it would be quite healing. You could act as the barrier between us, a receptacle for the overspill of love he doesn't feel confident enough to touch me with.'_

_'Oh, fucking_ hell _, forget I even asked - that was_ way _too vivid!'_

 _'Maybe one day, there'll be someone,' she shrugged. 'But with the_ best _will in the world, the thought of sex with you in any capacity rather turns my stomach. Sorry.'_

_'Ugh, no, same. Love you so much, but same.'_

_'Aww,' she said, grinning with fiendish amusement. 'We love one another too much for perverse desires.'_

_Cullen sighed. 'Apparently so. Jesus, sex complicates everything, doesn't it?'_

_'Most of the time.'_

_'Maybe I should just get a girlfriend or boyfriend.'_

_'It's hard for you, though.'_

_He thought of his Googling, of demi sexuality. Of needing to love someone before_ _… anything happened._

_'I'd have been happier in a Jane Austen novel,' he complained._

_'That's likely true. You're such a Bingley.'_

_Affronted, he said, 'I'm clearly Darcy.'_

_Lee smothered down a laugh. 'Cullen, be serious.'_

_'I'm_ _…' he spluttered. 'Taciturn!'_

_'You're shy.'_

_'So was Darcy!'_

_'All right,' she permitted soothingly. 'You're Darcy. Unless Fenris is standing next to you.'_

_The argument died on his tongue. 'Oh yeah. Fen's way more Darcy than I am.'_

_She finished her notes with a flourish and sat back, finally giving him her full attention. 'Actually, I take it all back. You're not Bingley. You're Jane.'_

_Cullen smiled at that. 'Aww, I love Jane. And you're Lizzy.'_

_'Of course.'_

_'And Rosie is Lydia.'_

_'Bran is a dead on mishmash of Kitty and Mary.'_

_'And Josie is Charlotte!'_

_She shrugged simply, grinning. 'And Fenris is Darcy.'_

_Unreasonably pleased, Cullen chuckled, shaking his head and then he sobered, smile fading into one of distant longing. 'Maybe one day I'll find my Bingley.'_

_'You will,' she promised him. 'I know you will.'_

_*_

_'So, what you're saying,' Isabela said as she poured herself a wine and Cullen a glass of Ribena (they looked the same so what did it matter?). 'Is you want to fall in love_ before _you have sex?'_

_'Pretty much,' he told her, sat on the floor, guitars everywhere, notebooks and picks scattered about with pens and empty KitKat wrappers._

_'That's so weird,' she said honestly, returning to their area on the floor. 'But it's weird in_ _… a normal way. Like, that's how it should be, isn't it? So normal it goes all the way back around to actually being_ weird _.'_

_'Thanks,' he said, taking the wineglass full of blackberry juice like a kid pretending to be an adult._

_'When did you last have sex?'_

_'Uh,' he thought back, skirting the details of that last time with Madeline, rummaging for the date. 'Like, close on two years ago, I think.'_

_'Two fucking years!? Babe,' she said, eyes wide, hand on heart. 'We can have sex right now. Your poor_ balls _! I love you, you love me, let's do it, come on.'_

_He laughed easily, shaking his head. 'It's not like that. I don't feel_ _… pent up.'_

_'How often do you masturbate?'_

_He blushed hard. 'Not often. Once or twice a month.'_

_'I do it at least four times a week, not including sex. What do you think about?'_

_Cullen cleared his throat, buying time with his pretend wine while Isabela drank the real thing. 'I think about,' he said slowly, aiming for honesty. 'Being loved.'_

_Oh, that sounded_ pathetic _, for fuck's sake._

_'Hmm,' she said, nodding. 'But you're a tad withdrawn, so it makes it_ _… a bit difficult for you to meet people.'_

_'Yeah.'_

_'And you'd need to be in love before you had sex?'_

_'I think so.'_

_'Right. Well, I've worked with less. I'll scout around.'_

_'Oh, no you don't need to do that, I wasn't looking to be set up.'_

_Isabela snorted. 'I wouldn't set you up! Kitten, me and you were a set up, we ended up being singing partners and close friends. If I set you up, you'll just make a new pen pal or start a sewing circle, no. I'll just scout around, see if there's anyone out there who might be your type. Maybe bring them into your life now and again. No pressure.'_

_'I hate everything you just said.'_

_Untroubled, she asked, 'What's your type?'_

_Type. He didn't have a_ type _, did he?_

_'Dark hair, maybe.'_

_'Of course, go on.'_

_'Um. Nice eyes. Someone_ _… pretty? I don't fucking know, do I?'_

_'No, come on. It's not just how they look. Type is how they are, who they are. Try again. Close your eyes.'_

_With an irritated huff, Cullen did as she asked. He shut his eyes and tried to think. To shape together the outline born of light that shimmered before him when he touched himself, tried to put a face to all that love he yearned for._

_'Kind,' he said, because that was important. 'Funny. Uh, maybe someone who_ _… cares deeply.'_

_'Like you do.'_

_'Mm, or maybe just_ _…' he cleared his throat. 'Wants to be cared for. Yeah, someone who wants to be… loved. Someone I can be myself around. Someone bright and clever, not cruel. Someone decent.'_

_'OK,' she said, sounding a bit strained. 'Let's try more about looks.'_

_'Right, yeah. Dark hair. Huh, maybe like_ _… full lips? Cheekbones. Tanned. I guess, maybe tall. Maybe with…' he cleared his throat again, fully aware of what territory he was venturing into here. 'Maybe with nice facial hair.'_

_'Right,' she said, nodding as he opened his eyes. She had a calm demeanour, brow lifted as she sipped her wine. 'So, someone like Harry's boyfriend?'_

_Heat_ flooded _his face again, hard enough that it went up his neck, pooling in the tips of his ears and his heart shoved right up into his throat, causing him to splutter._

_'Wh-NO! No, why would you even—I don't even know who that is!'_

_Coolly unaffected and somewhat smug, she tipped her head. 'Y'know, the cutie from the party two weeks ago? The one you were staring at?'_

_'I wasn't—fuck, was it obvious, then?'_

_Isabela laughed gently. 'Oh, you are so delightful, you really are. Darling, the only one who didn't notice was_ him _.'_

_'Well,' Cullen sulked. 'He was just really pretty. Left an_ _… impression.'_

_'He tends to do that, but he's Harry's boyfriend and they have a complicated thing that I wouldn't get in the middle of.'_

_'I'm not getting in the middle of anything. You just asked my_ _…' he gestured frantically. 'Type, that was all. That guy was my type. He's what sprang to mind.'_

_'Fair enough. He_ is _gorgeous.'_

_'Yeah, he was.'_

_'Well, he's not_ dead _,' she said, kicking him gently. 'You'll probably see him around again. He goes with Harry to most performances.'_

_'Look, can we_ _… move on?'_

_'Of course,' she purred kindly. 'Let's talk about your atrocious interview, shall we?'_

_'Ugh, Izzy,_ why _?'_

_'Lee says you need media training.'_

_'I do,' he agreed morosely, drinking his Ribena as if it were indeed fine wine. 'I'm utterly shit at these things.'_

_'Well, you've got_ The Smile _down.'_

_'Yeah, only because you taught me it.'_

_'I can teach you a few tricks for interviews if you like too, just to tide you over.’_

_Cullen sighed and smiled. 'That'd be great, thank you.'_

_'Of course. What are sexless friends for?'_

_*_

_They went out for drinks with important people; a requirement, so Lee told him. Fenris watched from nearby, his gaze soothing and constant and Cullen drank sparingly, always wary of anything too mind altering, never quite trusting himself if he let go. He smiled and said what he hoped were the right things as they stood around in an expensive, lifeless bar with pretty girls in black dresses who touched Cullen's arm and laughed exuberantly whenever he made anything remotely resembling a joke._

_Lee was all business, she played them perfectly. Projected success and upward mobility, talked about all the things they wanted to hear. Potential label executives or whatever they were, they didn't actually pay Cullen that much attention - they left that for the two pretty girls who were patently bought and paid for._

_It turned Cullen's stomach, but he did his best to make polite conversation with them, not wanting to be rude. When the pretty blonde one with ice blue eyes whispered warmly, lips brushing his ear, if he wanted to take them somewhere they would like that, he laughed nervously and declined as politely as possible, citing that he had to be home for his daughter._

_It had the opposite intended effect, making both women seem even more interested, genuinely so this time and when they left, drinks and discussions over with, they both gave Cullen their numbers and two very real smiles._

_'Not your type?' Lee asked as Fenris drove them back to her place._

_'They're escorts.'_

_'So? What's wrong with escorts?'_

_'Nothing. I just_ _… it's a bit morally gross, isn't it?'_

_Lee laughed easily, scrolling through her phone. 'They're top shelf. Not forced to be there, not trafficked or anything like that. They chose this life. Sex work is to be supported and celebrated.'_

_Cullen rolled his eyes. 'But they're_ paid _to like me.'_

_'Oh, sweetie,' she sighed, somewhat giddy from the wine. 'It's OK to let go now and then. To have a little bit of fun.'_

_'Fun can be good,' Fenris agreed from the front._

_Leliana shot him a mild scowl. 'Like you'd know.'_

_'_ Anyway _,' Cullen cut across before anything serious could get going between them. 'I have nothing against sex workers, as you say, I just don't want to be with one. But thanks for the_ _… thought.'_

_'It wasn't my idea to bring them. Execs always bring girls. It's how they operate.'_

_'So much about this life I hate,' he muttered, looking out of the window._

_'So much to love, though,' Fenris reminded him gently._

_'Yeah. Lots to love.'_

_*_

_Cullen found it hard to sleep which wasn't new. There were plenty of reasons for it. Too quiet, being alone, mind on overdrive, fear of nightmares, but lately, it was always for the same reason._

_He'd gotten used to being up at night with Sophia._

_Even months later, it was still ingrained into him. Sometimes he woke up and looked around the bed for her, panicking that she'd been taken and then he realised she already_ had _been taken, just by her mother._

 _He hadn't heard a word from Madeline. Not a single message, text, call. Fenris told him they were both safe, moving around a lot, but both safe and healthy as far as he could tell. Lee and Fenris pushed him often, even now, to pursue legal action against Madeline. To take her to court, to petition for at least partial rights as she had left the baby with him for so long, but he couldn't bear the idea of it. Could not stomach even the vague idea of a judge siding with Madeline, declaring him_ no one _to Sophia in a court of law and making that lack of connection and kin really real._

 _He wasn't sure he could survive that, not if it was official. A small, sickly part of him always_ hoped _that Madeline would return because she needed money. There was no other reason now; nothing between them anymore and the baby, no matter how much he loved her, was not_ his _in any way that mattered by law._

_So he stayed up as late as possible, rarely alone but sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes Fenris needed to sleep, sometimes Lee wanted other company. He didn't mind, did not resent them. He just did his own thing._

_Experimented with food, played, wrote songs. Watched movies and TV. Rearranged furniture, cried, that sort of thing._

_Sometimes he thought about the man from the party, Harry's boyfriend. The one who'd been staring into the fire. He thought about what he might be doing and then horribly regretted it, not wanting to ever,_ ever _imagine Hardiss Lilbourn having sex. But sometimes he imagined that young man, what he did, where he went during the day. He imagined how it might feel to have that gaze land on him, to make him_ smile _._

_It was pathetic, no two ways about it. He was piling expectations onto a blank canvas, that was how desperate he'd become. The dude could be a total prick. He could be the anti-Christ for all Cullen knew. Maybe he hated kids and animals, maybe he was a fucking Neo-Nazi. Cullen had just found a pretty face and latched on because he'd seemed sad and fuck, if that wasn't relatable._

_He needed to get over himself. He needed to move the fuck_ on _and find someone new._

_*_

_He asked Isabela to set him up and after she was done laughing, mildly teasing and then flat out_ warning _him, she agreed. Set him up with someone she deemed a Really Nice Guy and they went on a date and everything. There was food, chatter and smiles._

_Cullen had Fenris fake call him halfway through._

_'What went wrong?' his best friend asked as Cullen hitched up a knee onto the seat in the front, dropping the window to breathe in the cool, cleansing night air._

_'He knew who I was. Asked a ton of questions. I felt_ _… uncomfortable.'_

_'I'm sadly lacking in this area,' Fenris told him. 'I've loved Lee as long as I can remember and my only other experience is Anders.'_

_'How did it start, between you two?'_

_Fenris considered as he drove. 'It was_ _… charged. He teased me constantly, but it was playful. He was a part of this completely different world and it was alluring.'_

_'That and you have a thing for outspoken red heads.'_

_Fenris laughed. 'Yeah, that too. Probably best you don't attempt any more dates until Josie does the training with you.'_

_Cullen sighed, watching the world go by without him._

_*_

_It was almost four in the morning and Cullen had actually been asleep when he heard banging. He shot up from his hallow slumber, force of habit, and yanked on a t-shirt, grabbing a baseball bat from the airing cupboard and heading downstairs. Fenris was standing in his doorway, talking to someone in low, disapproving tones._

_Branson Rutherford was collapsed in his hallway, laughing and slurring._

_'It's all fine,' Fenris said, glancing up at Cullen as he came down. 'All clear, false alarm,' he spoke into his earpiece. 'Retract call out, I repeat, all clear. Copy that.'_

_'Bran?' Cullen ventured. 'What's—here, lemme help.'_

_He and Fenris got his younger brother to his feet. The smell of alcohol was insanely strong and Cullen's gut churned with both worry and sympathy. His brother never drank like this._

_'Sorry,' Bran said miserably. 'H'd a key, but couldn't fin' the right door, kept waking people up.'_

_'You_ broke _the bloody door,' Fenris pointed out as they got him onto the sofa nearby. 'Though in all fairness, it's a shit door. I'll replace it with a better one.'_

_Cullen nodded distractedly. 'Night out or_ _…?' he trailed off, hoping his younger brother would explain what in the hell had happened._

_''S'all fucked,' Bran declared, voice breaking. 'All fucked. I fucked it up so bad!'_

_'Right, well, I'm sure it's not_ that _bad. Let's get you some water, eh? You can sleep it off in the—'_

_He began to cry. 'Shouldn'a done it, but it'd been ages since me an' Cass fucked and I'm so stupid.'_

_Cullen froze. 'What happened?'_

_Hands over his face, back heaving, Bran said, 'I slept w'the girl from my place, the fuckin' admin girl.'_

_Fenris grimaced and looked away, but he said nothing. Cullen rubbed Branson’s back, stomach twisting itself into knots. 'Does Cassie know?'_

_'I don't know how to tell her,' Bran moaned. 'Things between us have been so_ _… it's not an excuse, know that. I just.'_

_But he couldn't finish, couldn't dredge any more words past alcohol numbed lips and Cullen knelt to hug him while he cried._

_'Does she know where you are?'_

_'Told her I'm out f'r a work thing.'_

_'OK, I'll text her and say you're crashing here.'_

_Bran drew away, red eyes searching Cullen's. 'Won't tell her?'_

_'No, we can sort it all tomorrow,' Cullen said. 'Come on.'_

_*_

_The next day Bran was hungover and extremely quiet. Cullen cancelled his morning interview (with no small amount of relief) citing family emergency. Lee greased a few wheels but the understanding was he'd have to do a bigger one to make up for it._

_Cullen didn't care._

_He made his younger brother and Fenris a huge breakfast, proper full English with a never ending supply of tea. Bran had a shower, dressed in a few spare things of Cullen's and Fenris's, their clothes always in the same basket for one reason or another and he sat there at the dining room table, hands around his tea, staring at food he couldn't touch, even while Fenris ate beside him._

_'Let's talk about it,' Cullen said, which was always the better way of saying,_ do you want to talk about it _, especially when the discussion was a necessity._

_Bran covered his eyes with one trembling hand._

_'There's nothing to talk about. I fucked the girl from the admin office. She's my employee, she's nineteen. Cassie is my wife and the mother of my son. I'm a piece of shit.'_

_Cullen glanced at Fenris, who was almost done with his breakfast, silently imploring the use of his clever verbal skills. Fenris wiped his mouth and gave a tiny nod, looking at Bran._

_'A piece of shit?'_

_'Yeah, that's right,' Cullen's brother confirmed angrily. 'Who does that to their wife, to—to family? Lowest of the low, that's who. I hate myself, can't believe I've_ done this _!'_

_'Everyone makes mistakes,' Fenris said neutrally._

_'I didn't_ want _to be like—to be like everyone else,' Bran spat, swapping out words at the last moment, even though Cullen knew what he'd been about to say._

_'Everyone else?'_

_'Yeah.' Bran viciously stabbed a sausage. 'Everyone else. People who fuck around, cheat on their wives. All the blokes at my garage do it. They laugh about it, swap stories. They do drugs on weekends. They lie and they cover for each other, that's what everyone else does.'_

_'Not everyone does that.'_

_'Sure seems like it. And maybe not everyone cheats, but everyone fucks their lives up eventually, don't they? I didn't want that.'_

_Cullen asked, 'Was it one time?'_

_Bran swallowed his bite of breakfast. 'No. Just with her though.'_

_'Are you still seeing her?'_

_Bristling, his younger brother said, 'I'm not_ seeing _her at all, it just_ _… keeps happening! She's just so tempting and she's right there, always flirting with me, always touching me. Fuck, I_ know _what a cliche it is, but I wanted her and I couldn't stop myself.'_

_'So, it just happens at the office?'_

_It took a long time for Bran to answer. 'No. She's never come to mine, but sometimes we get a hotel room.'_

_Cullen resisted the urge to scrub his hands over his face, didn't want to project anything. He loved Cassie and Danny, loved Branson too but this was bad._

_'What do you want to do?' Fenris asked him quietly._

_'Stop seeing her, obviously,' Bran said, perhaps unaware he'd just fervently_ denied _that he was seeing her. 'Get my act together and make sure Cass doesn't find out. I'll never do it again. I love her so much. Her and Danny are all that keeps me going.'_

_It was painful to hear that from his twenty three year old brother. Young man who'd risen so far, so fast, taken on so much._

_'You have to tell her,' Cullen said gently. 'She deserves to know.'_

_Bran's eyes closed hard. 'She'll leave me.'_

_'That's her choice.'_

_'But I'm never going to do it again. This is like a wakeup call. I never, ever want to be with anyone but her. They're my world. I can't lose that. Not over a stupid mistake.'_

_Cullen frowned but Fenris glanced at him, tiny shake of his head in warning and Cullen fell silent, trusting his friend's instincts above all else._

_'Look,' Fenris said. 'This is your decision whether or not you tell her. We can't_ make _you tell her, but it's grossly unfair on her to not know and to keep on being your wife without all the information. It puts your relationship on uneven ground, leaves a wedge between you both that will grow bigger over time.'_

_'You cheated on Lee,' Bran threw with quietly heated accusation. 'You love her more than anything and you cheated on her.'_

_'I never once cheated on Lee,' Fenris replied calmly. 'We talked about it first, she knew what I was doing and I knew what she was doing. I fell in love with someone else while I was with her, but I never acted on it until we split.'_

_It was the first time Fenris had ever acknowledged he'd been in love with Anders. Cullen had known it, knew from the way he spoke about him, but it was still surprising to hear Fenris actually_ say _it._

_'Rosalie sleeps with everyone and anyone,' Bran went on, desperation verging in his tone. 'She travels non-stop, gets with two or three different people a week sometimes!'_

_'Rosalie isn't_ married _,' Cullen said before he could stop himself, helplessly defensive of their baby sister._

_Bran's entire expression crumpled and he started crying again. Fenris wrapped his arm about his shoulders, but didn't pull him close like he would have done to Cullen or Cullen to him. Bran had always been so angry, so brittle with it._

_'I'm sorry,' Bran whispered wetly. 'I_ _… I know Madeline did that to you.'_

_A flush of shame came over Cullen then, but he swallowed it back as he so often did. The memories of Madeline telling him he wasn't good enough, wasn't man enough for her before she went out into the night, they were always fresh and always confusing for how grateful he'd been to be left alone, despite the churning misery and insecurity it left him with._

_'That's not what I'm saying,' Cullen uttered._

_'It just_ _… happened!' Bran went on. 'I couldn't control myself, I was so fucking desperate for it. Christ, it had been_ weeks _, you know?'_

_Cullen did not know, but his brother needed him and that was all that mattered in the moment._

_After another minute of graceless sobs, Bran visibly pulled himself together, taking a huge gulp of tea. 'Got any whiskey to go in this?'_

_'No.'_

_Bran nodded. 'I'm not telling her. It'll never happen again, it was a stupid, one-time thing and I_ _… I can't lose her. I just can't. I'm gonna sort myself out, properly. Be the best fucking husband I can be, best Dad. Yeah. That's what I'm gonna do.'_

_'What are you going to do about_ _…?' Fenris trailed off tactfully._

_Bran picked up a piece of bacon and stuffed it in his mouth, wiping tears away with the other hand. 'I'll fire her. Nicely, though. Like, say her contract is up or whatever.'_

_Cullen did not like that at all. Didn't like the casual way his brother said it either, but he held his tongue, trying to prioritise._

_'What do you need from us?'_

_Branson sighed. 'I uh, need to borrow some money.'_

_'Of course,' Cullen said quickly, because money was easy, he had lots of it and Bran had never once asked him for anything before. 'How much?'_

_'Like, eight grand? I'll pay you back monthly. I ran up my credit cards with her. Bought her a lot of fancy shit over the last few months, hotels and everything, y'know?'_

_'No problem,' Fenris said when Cullen couldn't find the words quick enough, slightly jarred by how his brother's initial story of passion in the moment kept drifting further away. 'Just give us the details.'_

_Finally, Branson smiled. He sighed almost happily, looking at the two of them with wide, red rimmed eyes. 'Thanks, guys. So, what's new with you?'_

_*_

_'You_ cannot _tell Cassie,' Lee agreed while Cullen cut up cubes of beef. She sliced the vegetables and Fenris mixed the stock with sauce and herbs._

_'It makes me sick, her not knowing.'_

_'You're over-identifying,' Fenris pointed out. 'I'm not making excuses for him, what he did was disgusting, but he's twenty three. He married young, had a baby young. It happens sometimes and you shouldn't get involved, not if there's a chance they can move on and be happy together. I'm more concerned about the way he lied, only told the truth in stages.’_

_Cullen made a noise low in his throat, focusing on the task at hand, but the sense of ill ease clung hard. 'Sorry about the interview,' he told Lee._

_She tossed a slice of red pepper high and Fenris caught it in his mouth, common place exchange for the pair of them now, always seeing how much higher and further away they could make it. 'No, you're not.'_

_Cullen huffed a laugh. 'No, I'm not, but I'll do better next time. Izzy gave me some decent tips.'_

_Fenris cocked an eyebrow. 'Izzy's got_ amazing _tips.'_

_Lee hit him with a tea towel. 'She still setting you up?'_

_'No,' Cullen said quickly, wishing they'd let it go, knowing it was somewhat futile. 'She just said she might_ _… bring someone new to the circle now and again, whatever that means.'_

_'It's good to meet new people.'_

_Cullen laughed at that. 'We meet new people all the time, the ratio of anyone making it past our triangle is about a hundred to one.'_

_'Josie made it past.'_

_'With ninety nine sore losers behind her,' Fenris agreed. 'How many friends did you make at Uni who you literally never see now?'_

_'I still talk to a few.'_

_'Only those who are useful.'_

_'Well, what about you?' Lee shot at Fenris, still playful enough. 'All your new_ friends _in the service?'_

_'Yeah, tons of them. Only one made it through, though.'_

_'Well then,' Lee sighed, reaching for another glass of wine, no tea for her that night apparently. 'I guess Izzy had better line them up and stack 'em high.'_

_*_

_It was well past midnight when Cullen padded sleepily to the bathroom to pee, able to sleep because both his friends had agreed to stay over after dinner, when he heard quiet sounds coming from downstairs._

_He hesitated at the top of the stairs, blinking in the darkness, trying to make out what the noises were and if he needed to yell, get his bat, but when he heard Lee make a tiny, soft little moan, he just rubbed his eyes and carried on to the bathroom._

_*_

_'I couldn't do it,' Fenris told him the next day, sounding shaken to his core. 'I couldn't fucking do it.'_

_Cullen didn't know what to say, so he said nothing._

_'The fear of hurting her is greater than anything else,' Fenris went on as they sat in the car together, waiting for Lee to come back from the petrol station, September rain pouring all around them, thick and lukewarm. Cullen's best friend stared ahead of him, hands on the wheel of the car. 'I wanted to_ _… but I couldn't. The_ look _in her eyes, Cullen. It was like I'd stabbed her all over again.'_

_'I'm so sorry.'_

_'I think I've really lost her. I think_ _… I've really, truly lost her, this time.'_

_Lee got back in the car hurriedly and Fenris wiped his expression clean. 'Fucking why does it always rain when I straighten my hair, seriously?' she complained loudly. 'Come on, we don't want to be late.'_

_*_

_In private moments, Cullen's empathy for their suffering was such that he tried to consider the idea of doing the threesome with them. He tried to picture it, to push hard and see if it was something he was genuinely capable of offering._

_But the conclusion was the same and even if it hadn't been, he knew Lee would recoil at the idea. They loved each other too much, in a different way than Cullen and Fenris, whose love was more_ _… fluid, for complete lack of a better word. Cullen had never realised his love for Fenris could bend that way if need be._

_It always left him frowning intensely, feeling vaguely guilty that he wasn't capable of helping and made him feel wretched for them both._

_He wished he was stronger._

_*_

_Whenever they hung out with Isabela, Cullen noticed that she brought along a few more people each time. Stacking them high, he supposed. Everyone was nice, he had no issue with anyone but no one grabbed his attention. No one caught his interest._

_He tried not to make the automatic comparison to the man who'd stared into the fire, every detail of him still etched deep into Cullen's memory even three months later._

_For Leliana's birthday, they threw a massive, lavish party and everyone bought her shoes, such was the mandate on the invitation. She hired out a ballroom, had it decorated, hired a proper band and everything._

_Cullen tried not to spend all his time on the fringes, constantly looking to wherever Fenris was, his anchor, his safe place._

_'Hey, you want to dance?' someone would ask, bubbly, bright and hopeful and Cullen would just kind of_ die inside _a bit while he smiled his smile and tried to think of a polite way to get out of it yet again, but most times his silence was taken for tacit agreement and they pulled him out by the hand,_ danced _with him. At least until they realised he wasn't a very good dancer. Then they'd laugh kindly, let him go and ask if he wanted a drink, by which point he'd mustered up an excuse about needing the bathroom._

_He hated himself. Looked in the mirrors and cursed his own cowardice. Why was he like this? Had Madeline really fucked him up this badly? Christ, not even being able to dance with someone._

_It was difficult not to cry, Cullen held the tears back by sheer force of will, but it was so fucking painful to realise how completely she'd won. Taken everything. His daughter, his self-belief, his confidence, his trust in anyone outside their tiny group. He'd never had an especially high sex drive as it was, but without that level of trust, it was non-existent._

_He slapped himself hard across the face; horrible, familiar action. His body reeled, momentarily panicking that they were_ back then _, back in Madeline's place with the cream carpet and the red wine, gearing up to go into her bedroom with the mirrors and do terrible things._

 _A tear slipped free and he covered his eyes with one hand, letting out a small, painful sob before he remembered where he was, whose_ day _it was and tried to pull himself together._

_He splashed cold water on his face and took a few deep breaths just as someone came in. He hurriedly adjusted himself, making sure he looked fine, despite the great big handprint on the side of his face (fucking idiot) and shot the older man a shaky smile, making to leave._

_'Whoa, whoa,' the man said, abruptly concerned and yet gentle. 'Are you all right?'_

_Cullen gave a small laugh, hand on the door. 'Y-yeah,' he said, vaguely aware he might have been coming across a bit psychotic. 'I'm fine. Totally fine. Have a good night.'_

_'Whoa, hang on,' the man said, pleasant American accent giving Cullen pause. The man was mid-forties, black hair pushed back from his face with a dark grey, well cultivated beard. He had smile lines around his eyes that wrinkled with worry as brown eyes moved over Cullen's cheek. 'Did somebody hurt you?'_

_Cullen shook his head mutely._

_'You did that to yourself?'_

_'I_ _…'_

_'It's OK,' he said, smiling gently and fuck, but it was a beautiful smile. 'People do that sometimes. Take control from action, even if the action is a little crazy.'_

_It was a soft accent, nothing too strong in the drawl, no audible twang and his voice was kind of_ _… mesmerising for the strength in it. Cullen was staring, couldn't help it._

_'You need some more time in here? I can wait outside and make sure nobody comes in.'_

_If Cullen's blink was a tiny bit_ dazed _then he just hoped the older man didn't notice. 'Um, no. I think I'm done.'_

_'You sure? I'm a good liar when need be.'_

_Those brown eyes were moving rapidly between Cullen's own, seeking out, full of concern and benign interest._

_'I'll be fine.'_

_The man half blinked, smiled and stepped away. He hadn't touched Cullen, not once, but Cullen's skin felt weirdly tight, was tingling as if he_ had _been touched. 'Hope your night gets better.'_

 _'Y-yours too,' Cullen said, immediately cursing himself when the man's lips quirked as he headed for the trough to take a piss. Cullen absconded, heart fucking_ racing _._

_*_

_At the bar, he ordered a shot of tequila and downed it instantly._

_'Another,' he requested, running a shaky hand through his hair._

_The fuck had happened?_

_OK, literally_ nothing _had actually happened beyond some hot guy smiling and being concerned, but Cullen leaned heavily against the bar to hide how hard he was in his oh so formal trousers, downing another shot as if it was ice water to put out a fire._

_'Oh God,' Fenris said mildly, appearing beside him. 'What in the hell happened now?'_

_'Nothing,' Cullen said honestly as dance music pounded in the air all around them, the ballroom dark except for glittery mirror ball lights. The band weren't playing anymore, it was over to a DJ and that DJ seemed determined to get everyone moving._

_Cullen wasn't moving for love nor money. Painfully hard in his pants, all manner of confusion rushing through him, nope. He was staying right there._

_Fenris was quiet for a beat before he said, 'You hit yourself.'_

_Cullen shook his head. 'It's not that.'_

_'Right, but that's important. I didn't know you were still—'_

_'I met someone.'_

_'Oh?'_

_'He was_ _… fuck, he was really hot. I had this,' Cullen tipped back another shot and that one had an effect, took the edge right off, made it easier to speak. 'This reaction, like an instant bodily thing.'_

_'Ah.'_

_'I never get that.'_

_'I know.'_

_'I feel_ _… guilty.'_

_Fenris sighed, hand on his shoulder. 'I know.'_

_'But maybe this is good,' Cullen said, mouth burning with the sour taste. 'Maybe this means I'm getting—'_

_'Hey there.'_

_That voice went straight down his spine, pooling in his lower regions like warm whiskey, like a fucking_ drug. _Cullen almost flinched but Fenris helped him style it out, patting his shoulder to cover the movement._

_His best friend gave the man a solid up and down, analytical and flat. 'Hello,' he said for Cullen. 'I'm Fenris.'_

_The man sat at the bar two stools away. 'Matteo Suena, but I prefer Matt.'_

_The way Fenris stood meant that_ Matt _couldn't see how closely Cullen was leaning into the wall of the bar so he felt safe peering around his friend to say, 'Cullen Rutherford.'_

_'Can I buy you a drink?'_

_Fenris said, quite coolly, 'It's a free bar.'_

_Matt wasn't put off. 'Not the top shelf. Three Dalmore's, thanks.'_

_The bar tender went about getting three of whatever the fuck a_ Dalmore _was and Cullen knew a decision was coming due. He could let Fenris cover for him completely, let his friend steer the conversation away and even make excuses for Cullen. He could do that and Fenris wouldn't blink, he'd done it before._

_But_ _… maybe Cullen wanted to stay. To see if it was just the weird high from slapping himself mixed with almost being caught. To see if it was just that or if it was Matt himself._

_'Thank you,' Cullen said, giving the tiniest nod to Fenris when his friend looked back, gaze searching._

_'You can have mine,' Fenris said, stepping away. 'I need to do a sweep. Nice to meet you, Matteo Suena.'_

_Matt grinned; it had this hint of something wolfish but there was nothing threatening in it, not really. Cullen was still somewhat hypnotised, couldn't deny. 'He your friend? Very over protective.'_

_'My best friend and head of security,' Cullen said, moving sideways onto the nearest stool, only one stool between them now._

_'You famous?'_

_'I—not really,' Cullen said, something warm wrapping around his heart, a balm of relief. 'I sing a bit.'_

_'Ah,' Matt said, nodding to himself as three glasses of some golden amber liquid were placed before him. He handed the bar tender four fifty pound notes and told him to keep the change. Cullen really liked people who tipped. 'I don't really listen to any music that came out after AC-DC peaked, sorry.'_

_Cullen laughed, genuine and pleasant. 'That's OK. It's a valid choice.'_

_'Here, give this a try,' Matt said, pushing the glass towards Cullen. 'Better than tequila at any rate.'_

_It was a strange feeling, almost dizzying. Matt was older, maybe as much as twenty years older than he was but he was steady, in control, strong. He seemed kind, caring, uninterested in all the glitziest parts of Cullen's life._

_Cullen picked up the glass, holding it close to his mouth. The initial sharp smack of_ malt _was soothed with elements and scents he didn't recognise because alcohol was not his thing, but Matt, he could tell, was the kind of guy who probably collected bottles of the stuff, probably had a wine cellar and a whiskey cabinet. Maybe even rolled up his sleeves and like,_ made _barrels of the stuff himself, Cullen didn't know._

_'Salut,' Matt said, gently clinking the glasses together._

_Cullen said it back and drank._

_*_

_They spent the whole night of the party talking. When Lee made her speech and Cullen had to hightail it on stage with her, Matt was there in the audience waiting. When Lee followed Cullen off stage, Cullen introduced them, but they'd already met, of course. This was her birthday party which made perfect sense._

_They were friendly to each other, warm and relaxed which meant Lee didn't think he was a bad person and that set Cullen at ease. When she gently squeezed his arm, kissing his cheek before she returned to her_ audience _, she whispered, 'He seems lovely.'_

_At the end of the night, Matt asked if Cullen wanted his number which he did, very much. Matt put it into Cullen's phone and then handed it back._

_'It was great to meet you.’ His brown eyes seemed to say more than his relaxed, easy words could which Cullen was a bit obsessed with, bit obsessed with all of it, really. 'Hope to see you again, songbird.'_

_*_

_'Don't be ridiculous!' Josie said in the car on the way home. 'Text him right now!'_

_'What? He has to wait at least a day. Tomorrow afternoon, at the_ earliest _,' Lee insisted, the pair of them tipsy and laughing. 'Tomorrow evening, text him and ask how his day was.'_

 _'That's ages,' Cullen mumbled, looking down at the number in his phone._ Matt Suena _._

_'Suena is Spanish,' Josie informed him wisely, taking a selfie with Lee. 'And by God was he gorgeous. Text him now, Cullen, do it!'_

_Cullen put the phone away. 'I'll text him later, maybe.'_

_*_

Later _turned out to be two hours after he got home, laying on his bed, the room spinning just a bit from all the tequila and whiskey and intense brown eyes. From everything they'd talked about which_ _… Cullen wondered if he'd imagined that part. Because they'd talked about personal, private things and Matt hadn't seem fazed by any of it, but not disinterested either._

_Later turned out to be one hand on his dick, typing awkwardly with the other, sometime around 2AM._

Was great to meet you.

_That was all he put, then slammed his eyes shut, because he hadn't put his name, for God's sake. Matt wouldn't know who it was if he just gave his number out freely and maybe he did, maybe—_

**Great to meet you too, Cullen. You get home safe?**

_Cullen sighed, hand moving up and down his cock a few times, more relief than anything else._

Yeah, all safe, thanks. You?

**Back in my hotel room. Thanks for talking to me tonight. You were the highlight.**

Same for me, _Cullen typed, his brain moving a good deal slower than his fingers, making him sound almost childish._ Can I see you again _?_

_He sent it and waited, thinking of Matt, of the way he looked right down into Cullen, of how his voice had framed his name. Of his smile._

**I'd like that _. Tomorrow, lunch?_**

Sure, that sounds great. You choose, just let me know.

**I know a great place. Sleep well.**

_Cullen rested the phone on his chest, hand flying up and down now, mind lost beneath a fog of weirdly specific desire and need that had come from literally fucking nowhere._

_It took less than a minute to come._

_*_

_'Where are you going for lunch?' Fenris asked._

_'Uh, here,' Cullen said, showing him the message. His friend's brow lifted, smirking. 'What? Is it a bad place?'_

_'Not at all,' Lee said when Fenris showed her. 'Just_ _… very expensive.'_

_'Oh, he's got money?'_

_'He has investments all over,' Lee said. 'So, you like him then?'_

_Cullen nodded, aiming for casual. 'Yeah, he seems nice.'_

_Fenris and Lee glanced at each other, but they didn't seem worried. 'He does seem nice,' Fenris agreed. 'I'll scope the place out this morning, make sure it's secure. We'll give you plenty of breathing space, don't worry.'_

_'Hang on,' Cullen said, a problem occurring to him for the first time as his mind raced ahead to all possible outcomes. 'What if he_ _… that is, uh, what if we go somewhere else?'_

_Lee's smile went wide, the pair of them side by side at his table like smug, omniscient cats. 'Oh, sweetie, I'm so excited for you!'_

_He went bright red. 'No, I'm just—y'know,_ in case _, one day, hypothetically!'_

 _'Right,' Fenris said, nodding sagely. 'Well_ in case, hypothetically, one day _, you wanted to go back to his place or anywhere else, just tell me so I can follow you there and keep a reasonable distance.'_

_Cullen sighed with relief, wondering if it should have been weird that the idea of his friend being nearby made him feel safe._

_'OK, great. Just so that's established for the future. Yeah.'_

_Lee clapped her hands, ridiculously excited. 'I take it all back about playing cool. Go fuck him, my darling. Fuck him good.'_

_'Or get fucked,' Fenris said, and they nodded thoughtfully at one another. 'Whichever.'_

_Mild panic came for Cullen then. 'My experience with guys is_ _… not great.'_

_'Your experience with_ sex _isn't great. Maybe this will be a whole new start! Plus he's older, experienced. Men like that, ugh!' She performed a mock chef's kiss while Fenris rolled his eyes. 'Fucking amazing, you'll see.'_

_'I mean, it's just lunch,' he said primly, playing with his breakfast, too excited to eat but trying to hide it now. 'We're just gonna talk some more.'_

_*_

_Lunch was a highly charged thing that - despite Matt seeming relaxed and chill, interested and intense as ever in that subtle, hypnotic way - had Cullen almost writhing in his seat he was so fucking desperate for_ more _. He ate very little, still too excited, even if he couldn't quite detect what it was he was excited_ about _._

_And Matt was so fucking incredible. He didn't talk about his job much beyond a brief explanation of how boring it was which made Cullen laugh. He talked, when asked, about his travels. Places he'd been, his favourite things to do when he was in those places. He owned a boat that he loved and had three dogs that he called his girls. He also had kids, son and a daughter, both under ten. Amicable parting with his ex-wife, so he explained to Cullen._

_When he asked about Cullen, he asked things that people normally didn't know to ask. It was like he_ knew _him, like he was interested. He was intuitive too, seemed to understand the areas Cullen was less inclined to share and respectfully backed away whenever they came near one._

_He didn't drink all throughout lunch and Cullen liked that too, wanted to be sober the first time they kissed._

_Fuck, he wanted to kiss him._

_He didn't order dessert, but insisted Cullen did and as he ate the most exquisite apple pie he'd ever tasted, Matt said, 'Would you like to come upstairs with me?'_

_Cullen nearly choked. He wiped his mouth, swallowed and fought to take a steady breath. 'Yes. Please.'_

_Matt's smile was warm and easy._

_Cullen told Fenris where they'd be which was wonderfully simple because Fenris had already checked the restaurant of the hotel out and they would only be upstairs now. It was kind of slick, Cullen noted. Meeting in the restaurant of the hotel where he was staying, easy access, but he found no hint of maligned intent in it, only felt staggering relief because he had never, ever wanted someone in this way._

_In the lift, Cullen had this mad desire for Matt to just kind of_ _… shove him against the wall, kiss him senseless, but the man was all effortless control, an entirely different variety from what_ she _had wielded._

 _Only once they were in his suite, coat and shoes off, a white noise machine playing_ rain against windows _beside his bed, did Cullen begin to feel any trace of nerves._

_'I can never sleep when it's too quiet,' Matt said, misinterpreting Cullen's stare towards the small device for curiosity._

_It was really the bed he was looking at and_ _… for fuck's sake, Cullen had_ had _sex before, he'd had plenty of fucking sex in his life, more times than he could count but_ _…_

_His heart was beating hard and fast, it became difficult to swallow and he felt strangely delicate. Like it was his first time all over again, only maybe the way it should have been._

_Matt poured a couple of drinks, put them on the table beside the device that emulated heavy rainfall. He didn't offer one to Cullen, just left it there should he want it. Whiskey, by the look of it, but Cullen was weirdly frozen, standing by the bed, caught between warring urges and instincts._

_'Hey, you,' Matt said, low and soft. 'We don't have to do anything. We can hang out, talk all afternoon. Anything you like.'_

_'I want—' Cullen's throat became stuck, eyes closing at the awkwardness he felt then, wishing he was like Matt, wishing he could be cool and strong and perfect. 'I really like you.'_

_He looked up to find brown eyes moving between his. 'I really like you too. This your first time with a guy?'_

_Cullen decided that the time in the car with Raleigh Samson didn't count. 'Yeah, pretty much.'_

_Matt cupped his face, light and soothing and his gaze never faltered. Cullen felt like he could lose himself in it, like he was dizzy just from the intensity he found there. It made everything in him draw tightly together, made him_ want _and_ yearn _._

_'You decide, songbird,' Matt whispered. 'I'm happy just to be with you.'_

_Cullen took a shaky breath that did nothing to assuage the feeling that he was panting, gasping for air, even though really, he was barely breathing at all._

_He moved into Matt's space, close enough to scent his aftershave, something expensive that resonated like_ blue velvet _behind his eyes, imprint of masculinity and strength, but also sweet, warm. Close enough to feel whiskey laced breath moving over his lips, to hear Matt swallow._

_The strong hand slipped away from his face and Matt waited, he waited for Cullen to choose._

_Cullen kissed him. Deliberate and desperate, but held back, ensuring it was slow, no matter how his insides demanded_ more. _Their lips met and Cullen kissed him, tasted him. His mind was a whirlpool, all heading_ down _. It was intoxicating, but he was thinking clear, he was making the choice._

_'I want you,' he told Matt, closest thing to bravery he could reach for. 'I want you so much.'_

_'I want you too,' Matt said, his voice a rumbling baritone of smooth desire. 'You're_ gorgeous _, you know that?'_

 _Cullen made a noise, a kind of sigh as everything in his body gently rolled, shallow and sweet. The praise hit him harder than he'd expected, didn't really know what to make of it and before he could ask for more, because he_ wanted _it_ , _Matt was kissing him again, soft and intense, hand curling around the back of his neck. Matt was an inch taller and he was_ older _and for some reason, Cullen just felt safe. He felt completely safe with him._

_Matt didn't rush, not at all. He was patient, wanted to explore every single thing that Cullen offered which was, at first, mostly kissing. He didn't escalate it, just kissed Cullen back, explored his mouth, tongue brushing against Cullen's, playing with his hair, with his ears, the front of his throat, his shoulders and down to his hands, where he linked their fingers together, sighing against Cullen's lips._

_His patience was fucking_ intoxicating _and Cullen felt like he was drunk, like he was high as a kite._

_He stepped back, sitting down on the bed, looking up at Matt. It was strangely vulnerable but Cullen liked it because Matt seemed so patient, so kind. Instead of pushing Cullen back onto the bed, he knelt in front of him, kissing him gently and opening two of his shirt buttons before pulling back, gazing at Cullen as if asking a question._

_Cullen nodded and Matt kissed him again, opening the rest until Cullen's chest was exposed. He kissed his way down Cullen's jaw, his neck, over his chest all the way down to that fuzzy line of hair, that trail leading intimately south. This time when he looked up, Cullen whined and said, 'Please.'_

_He opened Cullen's fly and pulled out his cock, straining and desperately hard. For a while, he just rubbed up and down, his eyes still on Cullen, waiting._

_Cullen could barely breathe when he gave a jerky nod and Matt began to suck him. It was hot and_ wet _and oh fuck, fuck, fucking fuuuck_ , he was going to come, shit, no.

_'Ahh, wait,' he panted, Matt drawing off easily. 'Sorry, it's_ _… I don't wanna… not yet.'_

_Matt smiled like an omniscient God deigning to give Cullen everything he’d ever wanted on a whim. 'This is just for you.'_

_Cullen blinked hard, not knowing what that meant. 'I_ _…'_

_'Just for you,' Matt repeated, licking the head, causing Cullen's eyes to roll back. 'If you want it.'_

_'But you—'_

_‘Just for you, songbird.’_

_A breathless cry escaped Cullen's lips, head falling back as somehow Matt's words drove him closer to orgasm than even his clever tongue could. No sooner had the older man wrapped his mouth around his cock, gliding it down his throat, then Cullen was coming hard enough to see stars._

*

_He told Lee and Fenris all about it in an abstract way, guarding them from explicit details, but still telling them everything that had happened. They listened intently and when he asked if it was bad that Matt hadn't wanted anything in return, even when Cullen had stammered out multiple offers, they both seemed unconcerned._

_'It's OK for it to be about you,' Lee told him. 'Older partners tend to be generous like that.'_

_'But I want to fuck him,' Cullen blurted out._

_Fenris smiled as if smothering a laugh. 'Words I literally never thought I'd hear you say.'_

_'Next time,' Lee assured him confidently. 'You'll see.'_

_*_

_Next time they had room service and it was as Lee had said, quite different. This time when they kissed, Matt didn't wait after every little thing to check with Cullen. He became slowly more confident, though he looked at Cullen so much, still, like he couldn't bear to close his eyes._

_They kissed, rubbing naked against one another on the bed and Cullen did his absolute best not to come, even though his entire_ being _was balancing on a knife's edge of salty sweet pleasure that nourished him all the way to his bones._

_'I want—' he slurred. 'Please, can we—?'_

_'We don't have to,' Matt rumbled against his lips. 'Whatever you want.'_

_What Cullen_ wanted _was about a million fucking things, all of them crazy. It was like ten years’ worth of pent up_ need _funnelling its way out of him, into the man above him. The man who only wanted what Cullen could give and nothing more._

 _'Please,' he moaned, in case he said anything_ else, _any one of the frankly alarming things swirling in his chest, trying to lodge their way up into his throat and see the light of reality._

_Matt kissed his jaw, underneath his ear, thick cock bearing down against Cullen's. 'Are you a top?'_

_'I don't_ _… that's where I'm on top, right?'_

_'That's right.'_

_'I think so,' Cullen said, brow creasing, searching Matt's expression for any hint of displeasure. 'But literally, I don't mind. I want anything, anything you want.'_

_Matt smoothed his hair back, gaze roaming with open fondness. 'I don't bottom,' he said, no trace of admonishment or judgement. 'Is that OK? We can do other things, if not.'_

_'No, no, that's fine, that's_ great _,' Cullen babbled, dangerously close to letting slip all the other worryingly_ kinky _things he wanted to say, to beg for. 'I want you to fuck me, God, I want that.'_

_'Fuck,' Matt bit out, eyes closing for a second. 'Things you do to me, songbird. Just look at you, never seen anything like you.'_

_Cullen whined, grinding up desperately. 'Hold my wrists,' he begged because he needed to strain, he needed to_ push _and be able to do so, trusting that Matt was stronger, was in control._

_Matt made a rumbling sound of approval that threatened to have Cullen spilling there and then, strong hands wrapping gently but securely around his wrists, on either side of his head._

_'You're safe with me,' Matt said, like he could read his fucking mind. 'I'm gonna make you feel so good.'_

_All Cullen's control was going into_ not _saying one very specific word now, clamping his lips between his teeth, eyes screwed shut and seriously, the_ fuck _was happening to him? He'd never felt this before, never once had this level of desire in such a weirdly explicit way but oh, it was powerful._

_Matt held his wrists with one hand when he drizzled the oil, when he pushed carefully, expertly inside with his thick, blunt finger. He kissed Cullen deeply, their mouths wide, panting harshly but he prepared Cullen fully, taking his time even as the blond writhed beneath him, silk of expensive sheets rustling against his skin. The pad of his index fingers brushed over something inside that had Cullen crying out, arching his back, eyes rolling and there only by the grace of God was he not coming all over them both._

_'So good for me,' Matt told him, rough edge of desire to his baritone now. 'Gonna take me so perfectly, aren't you?'_

_Cullen nodded mutely, utterly fucked before he'd even_ been _fucked and it was too much, beyond what he could contain with skin and bone alone but Matt had him, his body heavy and reassuring above him, wrists restrained._

 _The older man aligned the head of his cock to Cullen's entrance, easing it in a fraction and then out again, almost_ teasing _, but more a way of thoroughly preparing him, Cullen thought._

_'Breathe for me,' Matt said, effortlessly making it an instruction. 'That's good, nice and slow. In and out, in,' he pushed inside the ring of muscle, just the rounded edge of his cock head, no deeper. 'And then out.'_

_It went on like that for a while; pushing in a little bit deeper every time Cullen drew in a deep breath like he was told and then he hadn't really realised, but Matt was fucking him. He was fucking him in time with each inhale and exhale, with the rhythmic movement of his obedient body and it was_ _shocking to_ realise _it. Didn't even feel like sex, it was so controlled, so orchestrated._

 _Cullen felt like he was caught in the rhythm of the sea, perfectly powerless, safe, thoroughly_ taken _. Matt was fucking him in_ time _, cock thrusting beautifully in with every inhale and out with each exhale and he had Cullen's wrists above his head, grip secure. It wasn't painful, it didn't need to be. Matt was strong and he knew exactly what he was doing and it was like a mainline into Cullen's veins, made him feel so good he almost couldn't stand it except he_ could _because this kind of weakness, this kind of submission, it made him strong, made him_ glow _._

_'That's it,' Matt was saying, slowly increasing the speed now. 'Breathe with me, keep the rhythm and look at me. Fuck, you're beautiful, aren't you? Do you know how beautiful you are, what you do to me?’_

_That word_ burned _in Cullen's throat, begging for release, but he bit it down, couldn't risk it, not yet, maybe not ever. He breathed faster, keeping time with the movements of the man above who fucked him with skill that bordered on magic, with devoted perfection, kissing his neck, the hollow of his throat._

 _'You're safe,' Matt whispered into his mouth when he returned for a kiss, shifting the angle so he could move faster, thrust_ deeper, _punching out a strangled cry from Cullen then as everything began to cramp, to draw down like a slingshot aimed skyward. 'You're safe with me, beautiful boy.'_

 _Cullen might well have been crying, didn't know, couldn't care. He was fully inside himself, he_ was _himself, unfurled and wild, safety in restraint, freedom in being_ held _, in the absolute, unwavering control of the man above him, stretching him, filling him, fucking him._

_Sex had never, ever felt like this before._

_'Please.'_

_'Beautiful manners,' Matt said, first sign of any strain in it. 'You feel amazing, so tight, my God.'_

_'I do?'_

_Matt kissed him. 'You're perfect. Say it for me. Say you’re perfect.'_

_Cullen shook his head, biting his bottom lip hard, eyes closed as if he couldn’t see, not wouldn’t._

_‘No? Then I’ll just have to say it, won’t I? Gorgeous, flawless creature, taking me like you were made for it, God, I could do this forever. Do you wanna come?’ Cullen managed to nod. ‘You can hold it for me, can’t you?’_

_Cullen let out a cry, the cramping intensifying, deepening. ‘I can’t.’_

_‘A little longer, so_ good _, my good boy.’_

 _Never had words done this to him, unmoored him, impacted him, threatened to utterly destroy him. He was losing control but it didn’t_ matter _because Matt had him, he had him there, wrists in that grip and body beneath the superior weight and it was so, so much to feel all at once._

 _Mouths pressed together, sweat slick between them and Cullen was lightheaded, breathless and fucking_ resplendent _, even despite needing to come more than ever before in his whole life._

_'You can do it,' Matt urged sweetly. 'You're so good, aren't you? Holding back, so tight around me, can you feel how safe you are?’_

_Cullen begged, for what he didn't know, but he_ begged _for it._

_'So close,' Matt promised, kissing his neck. 'So close, fuck, that's it, clench around me, feel me inside you, take me deep.'_

_Cullen's pleading became purely vocal, reduced to a mass of raw, broken off sobs and whimpers._

_Matt took his bottom lip between his teeth, gentle violence that Cullen just did not understand but when he said, 'Come for me, baby boy,' Cullen fucking_ lost it _._

 _Wave upon wave of purest, brightest pleasure smashed over him, stealing his breath, wiping clean every thought in his head. Nothing had ever felt so good, he'd never felt so_ safe _, so treasured. Matt was kissing him through it as his movements sped up and he slammed home in Cullen, a grunting growl ripping past his lips, body going rigid. Cullen's orgasm, if it could be called that, was just about fading when Matt started planting smaller, gentler kisses all over his face, still fucking him shallow and slow, wringing pleasure from him even like this._

 _Still…_ still _fucking him in time with his breathing as it evened out and Cullen could only marvel, could only lay there, boneless and drained, so happy it hurt._

_*_

_He told his friends everything that time, with one small detail held back for himself because he wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet, but they were so happy for him. Cullen basked in the feeling of contentment from sex, probably for the first time in his life._

_This was how it was_ supposed _to feel. This was why Lee kept telling him that casual sex was a good thing. It wasn't casual, not by his standards, but he wasn't in love with Matt and yet he trusted him. Maybe there was a way to bridge the gap of his struggle after all._

_Beneath all his exterior excitement, beneath what he let his friends see, ran a vein of something much deeper, his strange fascination with something as of yet unexplored._

_Matt asked if he was free the next day for dinner and Cullen checked with Lee that he was. She moved a couple of things around for him to make time, so Cullen said yes and Matt texted him the address._

_*_

_It went on like that for weeks. Lunch, dinner, sometimes breakfast and then back to Matt's suite. He always chose the place; always quiet, always casual. Never a bustling place with prying eyes, no doubt for Cullen’s sake. Cullen appreciated that Matt didn't care who he was in that way, only cared who he_ was _, but made the effort regardless._

 _They fell into bed most times. Matt led a busy life and so did Cullen. The sex was incredible. Cullen had never known it could feel like this. That he could feel_ so much _and be taken care of in such a way._

 _Matt was a natural top but he was also a caretaker. He took immense pleasure in making Cullen fall apart. Sometimes he offered to let Cullen top from the bottom, but Cullen never really wanted that. Sure, he would have liked to actually_ top _now and then, but he didn't really care that it wasn't an option. It wasn't_ that _that he loved._

 _He loved the way Matt was with him, how he held his wrists, made him secure enough that Cullen could relax, let go, undulate and_ breathe _. Matt made him feel safe in a deeply specific kind of way and it was becoming harder and harder not to say that word, that name that expanded and stretched like a living thing inside him whenever Matt called him his good boy, whenever he made him feel cherished and special and_ small _._

_Fuck, but he loved that part most of all. Loved when Matt would remove the weight of the world and stroke his hair, kiss him and make him light, make him safe and small instead of the tall, dangerous man he felt he was sometimes. With Matt, he could never hurt anyone, he could never be the bad guy. With Matt, he was cherished and precious. Locked down and powerless._

_Beautiful._

_Matt did all that and more. He showed Cullen so many things. The importance of preparation, of always using a condom, of something called_ aftercare _which was brand new to Cullen’s understanding of sex. Cullen had not even noticed that first time that Matt had worn a condom. Matt had gently scolded him when he observed that aloud._

_Cullen kind of liked it when Matt scolded him._

_They never really talked about what they were. Never talked about terms like boyfriends or whatever and Cullen knew that was for the best. Matt was in and out of the country and there was something about him that was_ _… unavailable. Nothing was emotionally absent. When Matt was there, he was fully with Cullen in the moments, in their time together and he was devoted, he made Cullen feel like the centre of the universe._

_But the more Cullen came to know Matt, the more he realised he was the kind of man who could compartmentalise. He had a level of control over himself that Cullen deeply envied, knew he could never emulate. Matt was unavailable for the prospect of building a life together beyond the walls of a hotel suite or the bathroom in the restaurant, rare occasions in a limousine if Cullen could be very quiet, which he never could._

_Cullen didn't mind. He wasn't sure he wanted that from Matt anyway. His life was, once again, stabilising slowly. A new foundation emerging as Josie walked him through how to cope with difficult interviews, answer difficult questions. As he learnt how to wrangle executives and excitable fans alike. He was almost finished writing his third album._

_An album brimming with nostalgia and yearning, he named it_ Heart of Ninety Eight _and several of the songs were indeed about the two best friends he made that year. About their love and strength, their friendship. About his longing for easier times, for the wayward strength born in youth and naivety._

 _His life was becoming stable and things were going well, which was usually around the time Madeline tended to swan in and wreck it all, but she didn't. Winter came, Rosalie stayed for Christmas as did Bran and Cassie. He didn't see Matt over Christmas, but someone delivered a beautiful handmade Taylor's electro-acoustic guitar with mahogany finish. Inscribed into the neck in italics, was the word_ Songbird _._

_*_

_Christmas day together was wonderful. Cullen hosted it in his spacious flat, had all the classics playing constantly and he did everything he could to make everyone happy. Outdid himself in terms of cooking, that was for sure._

_He and Rosalie talked about Matt and she clocked immediately what he wasn't saying, what he couldn't bring himself to say, much to his chagrin._

_'A Daddy kink is really common,' she laughed easily while Cullen went beetroot red and almost dropped the tray of Christmas brownies._

_'I don't—_ what _?! I don't have a—' he stammered, caught entirely off-guard._

_Rosalie's smile sobered a little as she leaned on her elbows across the counter. 'It doesn't mean anything like that. Not about any actual parents or whatever. The name is like a codeword, it means something else inside.'_

_Cullen put the brownies down with a clatter, hand flying over his eyes. 'I do_ not _have a-a bloody—'_

 _'You don't have to say it,' she rescued him. 'Save it for Matt, for when it feels right. I promise, the reason you're getting the instinct is because he's into it._ Nothing _to do with anything else in real life, OK?'_

_Slowly, he took his hand from his eyes. 'OK. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap.'_

_'Don't be silly. I'm so happy you like him, that you're having fun. That kind of thing is super common, I promise. On a different tangent,' she said quietly, making him sigh with relief, even though he was grateful for her reassurance. 'What's up with Bran and Cass? Did he tell her?'_

_Cullen peered around her to see the married couple sat beside one another speaking in hushed whispers, evident tension between them._

_'I don't think so,' Cullen said, a wave of awkward guilt hitting him hard. He loved Cassie, hated her not knowing about what Branson had done, but Bran was his brother and there was a sense of obligation there that had him in a kind of choke-hold. 'Christmas can be stressful.'_

_His gaze moved to Fenris who was walking around with Danny on his hip, the kid chattering animatedly about which present was his favourite. Cullen couldn't believe how grown up he was becoming. It made him wonder about Sophia, the comparison inevitable._

_He smiled sadly, doing his best to brush away the pain that arose any time he thought of her, his little girl._

_'I'm sure they'll be fine,' he added, cutting the brownies as Lee and Josie got the karaoke machine out, begging Cullen to sing_ Fairytale of New York _with them._

_*_

_New year’s long weekend saw Matt whisking Cullen away for the whole four days. Took him to Italy, a stunning luxury hotel room with endless room service, presents, treats and nights out. There had never been nights_ out _before._

_It was the first time that Fenris didn't go with him. He arranged for security with the hotel, organised everything while Cullen was in the air because Cullen had insisted he wanted this time away to be with Matt. Fenris bore his sudden desire for some measure of independence pretty well, at least in comparison to Leliana._

_Lee had not taken well to it, was instantly overcome with worry for Cullen. He could see the concern draw tight in her brow when he'd said he was going away with Matt and they didn't need to come too._

_'What about work?'_

_'Its four days, Lee.'_

_'Well, we have meetings on the Tuesday, will you be back then?'_

_'Definitely.'_

_'Cullen, maybe you shouldn't—'_

_'Look, it's four days,' he said, breathless with anticipation, but a tiny bit annoyed that she was being this way. 'Four days and I'll be back.'_

_She remained moody even as he texted her, apologised, but she agreed he was well entitled to take a break, especially as when he returned, there was a mini tour waiting for him._

_Cullen let Matt pay for everything, let the older man spoil him. They kissed in the airport, Matt's teeth grazing his jaw, hand in his back pocket as they dragged their minimal luggage out to the car waiting for them._

_Italy in winter was stunning from what Cullen saw of it, and he gasped when he stepped inside the massive luxury suite because it felt like a secret place, so beautiful. Roses on the bed and champagne on ice, hot tub in the bathroom and a balcony view that showed all the best of Italy; lightly frosted, frozen wonderland of excess and desire. Cullen felt so free then, so weightless that he could have floated away._

_And when they kissed atop their half unpacked clothes, stripping off easily and quickly, Matt's hand around Cullen's wrists just the way he liked, Cullen felt that word inside him, felt it burn and strain, desperation all tied up with pleasurable need._

_Matt was inside him, fucking him with the kind of abandon that was_ rare _. Maybe because he'd missed him, Cullen dared to think. Fingers digging into Matt's shoulders, burn of his facial hair along Cullen's jaw, he made those noises he knew Matt loved, earned himself a velvety growl of, 'Baby boy,' that had Cullen keening._

_And it was there between them, thin glass barrier he was certain that could be seen and felt now. He was filled with longing to just say it, to just have Matt hear it and know, even if it was weird and, despite what Rosie said, a little bit messed up._

_'Say it,' Matt said, using the voice that made it an instruction, Cullen's entire boy responding instantly, way ahead of his lust fogged brain. 'Say it for me, songbird.'_

_The word was there, but it was big and it caught in his throat, fear of being wrong, of making the wrong choice but Matt had never once made him feel stupid._

_'Say it,' Matt panted against his cheek, the slap of skin resonating throughout the hotel suite, Matt's rainy sounds there beside them, plugged into a European adapter. 'Let me hear you say it with your pretty voice, come on.'_

_Cullen softly cried out, 'Daddy.'_

_And it was like a switch had been thrown. Like someone had fucking electrocuted the man above him. Matt made a sound that got caught between a painful groan and a genuine cry, fucking him in earnest._

_'Again.'_

_Cullen felt like he was being turned inside out. ‘Daddy, please!’_

_‘Tell Daddy what you want.’_

_‘Fuck me, Daddy, oh—oh God, please, fuck me harder, harder, Daddy!’_

_Matt started saying all manner of things that caught and hooked in Cullen's chest. How he was_ his _, how he would always take care of him, how he was beautiful and perfect, his songbird, baby boy and he didn't come until Cullen did, a babbling mess of that word falling from his lips over and over, heart sighing with exhausted relief._

 _And afterwards, nothing really changed, except sometimes Cullen would whisper it when they were alone, when they were out together in public and Matt would turn then, take his face and look at him, amused warning not to push too hard unless he wanted a reaction,_ bad boy _, but Cullen did, he wanted that reaction, wanted all of it._

_Italy was where he fell in love with Matt, despite promising himself he wouldn't because the older man was unavailable for love, for a proper relationship, for the normal everyday things that Cullen had begun to yearn for._

_Matt fed Cullen fruit in the mornings, laughing wildly when Cullen told him about how he'd fretted over that word. He had the best laugh, most beautiful, crinkled eyes when he smiled and Cullen wanted to have him and keep him always._

_Cullen had never had sex in the water until that first time in Italy; Matt's arms wrapped around him from behind as he sat on his lap in the hot tub, water spilling over the side, Matt deep inside him, bidding him be still and patient._

_New year's eve, he took Cullen out, ordered a suit for him and took him to the opera. Fucked him in the bathroom to an aria Cullen would never, ever get out of his head and when he came, Cullen was certain he felt him mouth the words_ love you _against the back of his neck. They missed the countdown at midnight, time lost to them, only skin and kissing, Daddy and his songbird._

_They flew back together, secret smiles and hushed whispers on the plane but Cullen knew it wouldn't be the same when they landed. They didn't kiss in the airport of Heathrow. Matt texted him right afterwards, thanked him for the time away._

_And Cullen knew he was unavailable, he knew it, but it still hurt to part as if it had all been a dream._

_*_

_He told Fenris about the Daddy thing, about the entire beautiful, crazy weekend and his friend was pleased for him, he could tell, but there was something else too. Some measure of worry that had not been there at the start when he'd first met Matt._

_'You're in love with him,' Fenris observed quietly as they sat on Cullen's bed, his clothes packed in the nearby suitcase, a love bite aching faintly on Cullen's neck._

_Cullen felt like he should deny it, like he'd done something wrong._

_'So what if I am?' he shrugged. 'I don't expect it back, I know he leads his own life. It's just sex. Amazing sex.'_

_'I don't want you to get your heart broken,' Fenris said, looking down at his covers. 'Again.'_

_'I won't,' Cullen promised, trying to emulate how strong Lee was about these things. ‘It was just being away with him, that's all. I'm back now and it'll be normal again. Back to seeing him every other weekend, if that.' He tried to laugh, to bring levity to their conversation but it didn’t work._

_His friend was never speechless, not this way. Cullen watched him, breath coming faster as he slowly put things together from a different perspective. Imagined if Matt was with Fenris, how Cullen would see it._

_'He's married, isn't he?' Cullen said at last, when he could just about bear to. 'He's_ _… he's married.'_

_Fenris swallowed, nodding. 'I'm sorry. We didn't know until you left with him.'_

_Denial crept in, seeking to protect him. 'But maybe they're separated?'_

_Fenris shook his head, lifting his gaze. He didn't have to say sorry, Cullen could see it all over him, but that didn't make it any less painful._

_*_

_'I began to suspect,' Lee admitted when Cullen met with her later that night, quietly distraught. 'I asked around and though he covers his tracks pretty well, it wasn’t that difficult to find out. His wife and kids are in America, in Seattle. No one really knows about them. I'm so sorry.'_

_Cullen broke down in her embrace then. He cried and let himself grieve and when Fenris wrapped his arms around him too, safe between them once more, he let himself really feel how much he'd truly loved Matt, or at least what he knew of him._

_*_

_They took care of him, they built him back up. There were nights of ice cream and movies, of junk food and talking, so much talking. Fenris showed him a recipe for French hot chocolate and after a few days, Cullen felt strong enough to send a message to Matt, telling him thanks for everything but they shouldn't see each other anymore._

_He never got a message back and somehow, that hurt worse than anything else._

_*_

_Cullen was four days into his three week tour, piggybacking with a bunch of other artists and bands as was the way during the winter months. It was small venues, packed rooms, passionate crowds and utter, bone deep exhaustion. Perfect remedy for a broken heart._

_But, he reasoned, it was a_ normal _broken heart. It was the way a heart should be broken, if such a thing existed and in some ways, he was grateful for the experience._

_He threw himself into performing, gave it his absolute all and knew that he outshone a lot of the other artists with him in the circuit, although the observation made him uncomfortable._

_'Cullen, yeah?'_

_He looked up from tuning his guitar, the_ Songbird _one because he wasn't ready to let go of it, liked it too much, despite the pain. If anything, the pain was perfect performance fuel, however messed up that was._

 _A young man with a decidedly_ cool _haircut stood before him._

_He squinted. 'Oh, hi_ _… uh…'_

_'Krem,' the man filled in kindly, smiling. 'We've met in passing, but there was usually a fight in the background.'_

_Cullen laughed. 'Ah, OK. Sorry, I'm not great with names. How're you doing?'_

_'Yeah, not too bad, yourself?'_

_'Tired,' Cullen said honestly. 'But that's how it is, right?'_

_'Definitely. Just wanted to say hi and to tell you there's a party in the hotel later if you wanted to come, blow off some steam.'_

_Cullen glanced behind Krem, unable to see the source of all the noise coming from the dressing room at the end, but he knew who it was all the same._

_'Maybe,' he lied kindly, having zero intent of being anywhere near that_ dick _. 'But you have a great night, yeah?'_

_*_

_He performed well, knew he'd kind of smashed it when they kept chanting his name even after the next act went out to perform. Lee was telling him how amazing he'd sung, how it was being talked about all over the internet, clips of him holding one note beyond the intended end of the song going absolutely viral and he hadn't meant to do that, just sang the way he needed to in the moment._

_He signed autographs for VIP fans who bounced on tiptoes, staring at him with great big wide eyes, clutching one another as he asked what their names were, took pains to spell each one right and say what they wanted on their clean pieces of paper. They openly cried when he hugged them and he didn't_ understand _why, not when Matt hadn't given him a second thought, had not even replied to his message._

_By the end of the night he was so tired his eyes kept dropping shut without his consent but that thought wouldn't leave his mind._

_Not even worth a text back._

_It hurt. Cut deep, no two ways about it. He moped in the car, spent so much fucking time in transit, chin on his hand as he watched the city of Newcastle go by, headed back to the hotel. Always on his way somewhere, so rarely stopping and actually_ seeing _things._

_'Fuck it,' he said suddenly. 'Let's go to that party.'_

_*_

_'Christ, he looks amazing,' Cullen heard someone whisper as he walked past them, hotel suite lit up like a nightclub with cheap mirror and disco balls. Rock and roll music rattled in the air, heavy and aggressive and Cullen was greeted by Izzy before he had a chance to change his mind._

_'You came! Hah! That's what she said!’_

_Cullen grinned, really making effort to be present, despite it being exactly the kind of place he didn't want to be. 'Yeah, thought I'd drop by.'_

_'Where's the other two?' she asked, looking behind him. 'Not like you to rock up solo.'_

_'Fen's doing a sweep, Lee is changing,' he told her, leaning close to be heard. 'They didn't really want to come. I feel bad.'_

_'Sweetness,' she purred kindly. 'You look like_ you _didn't want to come. Why not have a drink, loosen up and relax?'_

You can relax, I've got you, songbird. You're safe.

' _Yeah, why not?'_

_She took him by the hand, leading him expertly through the crowded suite towards the makeshift bar._

_'Choice is a bit limited,' she told him._

_'Just a beer, thanks.'_

_'Sold. Wanna do a circuit?'_

_Cullen looked around. 'I already know everyone.'_

_'Yes, but sometimes people who already know each other say hello more than once in their lives. Come on.'_

_He let her lead him wherever, pleased that it required minimal effort, especially when Lee was still nowhere to be seen. Izzy greeted everyone easily, kisses and hugs, raucous laughter and innuendo for days, Cullen just standing there, smiling like he was decor._

_But everyone was warm, everyone greeted him with enthusiasm. Most complimented his show, said he smashed it that night and privately, he agreed. Heartbreak was excellent fuel, apparently._

_He was on his second beer by the time Lee arrived, Josie in tow and a few other girls. Josie had driven to Newcastle especially for some time with Leliana. The other girls were from University, some kind of alcohol-fuelled reunion. Cullen remembered one or two, especially the tall dark haired one who gave him an exceedingly cold stare head to toe before offering him the kind of smile a demon might before telling him the value of his soul_

_'Morrigan Korcari,' she said when he offered his hand in greeting._

_'We've met.'_

_'Lucky you.'_

_'Be nice,' Lee admonished playfully, before dragging Cullen away. 'Look, I know this is really rubbish timing, but Josie kind of sprang it on me—'_

_Cullen smiled. 'Go, have fun in the city. Fuck knows one of us should. Is Fenris going with you?'_

_'No, he's staying in the hotel. Said he'll be nearby, monitoring things but wanted to give you some space. I've got the big one following us around.' She glanced over her shoulder at the impassive mass of muscle who stood like every other man in security had ever stood. 'You sure it's OK?'_

_'Go blow off some steam,' he told her firmly. 'I'm having one drink and going to bed anyway.'_

_'Can't say I blame you,' she said, looking around doubtfully. 'I don't know what you were thinking, love.'_

_He gave a casual shrug, smiling with effort. 'Just wanted to do something different.'_

_She kissed him goodnight and left with the girls and Josie. Cullen watched her leave, checked his phone to see a message from Fenris, telling him to be smart, to let him know if he left the room. Sometimes it was easy to forget his friends were the same age he was, that maybe they wanted time to go do fun things themselves or sleep or just_ _… be away from him and his ever expanding black hole of_ requirement _._

_'Oh no,' Izzy sighed, handing him another beer. 'You've sunk into that mood.'_

_'Fuck off, Izzy,' he told her with all the love he could muster. 'I'm going to the bathroom.'_

_'There'll be a queue—'_

_'Yeah, yeah.'_

_He took a colder, fuller beer and headed to the closed door of the bathroom suite, but there was no one lurking outside, at least in any way that indicated queueing. 'This the bathroom?'_

_'Yeah,' someone said, grinning lasciviously. 'But it won't be free for a while.'_

_Cullen sighed, eyeing the door with resigned impatience. 'Who is it?'_

_'Who d'you think?'_

_Pissed off and uncomfortable under his own skin, maybe, but Cullen wasn't a barbarian so he didn't listen to the slightly muffled noises coming from inside the bathroom and for the purposes of decency he hauled away the three idiot boys who were lurking way too close._

_'Oi! Get off, he don't give a fuck if we listen!'_

_'Yeah, well, it's gross,' Cullen said, tone clipped and not in the mood to argue. He did everything in his power to pretend it wasn't who he thought inside that bathroom, currently being fucked. 'Look, there's a_ _… party,' he settled on, gesturing to where Izzy was laying on the dining room table, setting up for body shots. 'Move it!'_

_They were too drunk to seriously be annoyed and Isabela Rivain did make for an exceptionally irresistible distraction. Cullen looked between the rest of the party and that door, feeling weirdly protective all of a sudden, like he wanted to burst in there and_ _…_

_And what? Stop perfectly consensual sex between boyfriend and boyfriend? Fucking Christ._

_The music was too loud and it hurt his head, so he took another swig, but he didn't leave. He sat nearby on the edge of a sofa where two people were heavily making out as if they were invisible. Cullen politely ignored them, coming to terms with the fact that the whole reason he'd come to this stupid fucking party was currently inside the only bathroom, getting full on fucked by his bigger, taller, more confident, rock singer boyfriend._

_Cullen was a ball of bitterness when Harry emerged, not even bothering to make it seem like he'd been doing anything other than what he so patently had been. He raised his hands, clapping in time to the rhythm, everyone cheering and_ applauding _him while Cullen mentally counted to ten, maybe one hundred._

 _Harry went right for whoever had coke, chased it with a bottle of neat vodka and then, having had his_ spinach _, boomed, 'ROOF TOP PARTY!'_

 _The approval was thunderous and it made Cullen's nerves itch and crawl. Why the fuck was he there? This wasn't him, not his scene, no matter how_ adventurous _he might have been feeling. He hated all the drugs, the drink, the bullshit. Would usually end up going round asking the girls if they were feeling OK, if they needed a cab, rather than having any measure of fun. Luckily, this was the kind of party where almost everyone knew better than to accept a drink from Seth fucking Darius. Cullen kept to the shadows, watching as the life and soul of the party led a procession out of the suite, headed for the roof._

_'Wanker,' he muttered, getting up to leave when he noticed steam coming out from under the bathroom door. He paused for just a moment before he realised, with a dull flush of his cheeks, that Harry's boyfriend was probably showering._

_Cullen was the biggest twat in the universe, he really was._

_People were still filtering out, yelling and cheering as if Harry had led them to water after forty years in the desert. Krem hurried over, knocking on the door._

_'You OK?' he asked quietly while Cullen became fascinated with his beer bottle. 'He wants you to come.'_

_'Yeah, he can wait a fucking second,' came a voice from inside. It was so tight, so rigid with tension, Cullen could barely make out anything beyond the fact it was a Southern accent, trace of something from the upper classes, maybe, just the way it_ curled _at the ends. 'I'll be out in a minute, Krem.'_

_'All right, no worries,' Krem said into the crease of the door. 'We'll be on the roof.'_

_'Thanks.'_

_Krem moved away, dent of deep concern between his brows and then he noticed Cullen. 'Oh, hey man, you actually came!'_

_Cullen forced a friendly smile. 'Yeah, thought I'd swing by.'_

_'That's really cool. Hey’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘Do me a favour, watch and make sure no one barges in there for me? He just needs a few minutes.'_

_Cullen glanced at the door, steam still coming underneath very faintly. 'Of course.'_

_Krem patted his shoulder. 'Appreciate it. You're always looking out for everyone at these things.'_

_'I'm—not_ always _.'_

_Krem snickered. 'That's why we call you Cullen Motherford.'_

_Jaw dropping with indignation, Cullen didn't have the chance to say anything as Krem hurried after Harry, the noisy procession of excited musicians and their entourages finally leaving. Once they were gone, Cullen stalked over to the source of all that blaring rock music and viciously jabbed the off button, basking in the enormous sensory relief._

_There were still a couple of people in the room, same two heavily making out on the sofa at the opposite end of the suite, heedless of the mass exodus or the loss of music. Cullen rolled his eyes and returned to the other set of sofas near the bathroom and perched there by the door with the steam. He was a silent, thankless sentinel, guardian of those who wanted brief showers before returning to parties, he was—_

_'Hey, um, person Krem asked to stay there?'_

_Cullen blinked, looking up. 'Oh, hey. Yeah, that's_ _… me.'_

_'Cool, could I ask you a huge favour?'_

_'Of course.'_

_'Could you pass me a drink through, please?'_

_Cullen stared at the door. Was the guy_ not _showering, then?_

 _'Yeah, no problem,' he said easily, wandering over to the drink table, kicking aside_ debris _to get there. 'Any preference?'_

_'Anything unopened.'_

_Oh, how Cullen wished he could laugh at that. 'Sure.'_

_He retrieved a few options; two cold beers, one remaining bottle of wine from the bottom of the ice barrel and a full bottle of Jameson’s from a bag of someone's private stash. Cullen placed them neatly at the foot of the door and returned to the sofa after he dropped a soft knock._

_He saw a bronze skinned hand reach for the bottles. Black nail varnish and a few rings._

_'You got me a selection box,' the younger man chuckled thinly. 'Thanks.'_

_Cullen heard him crack either the wine or the Jameson’s, guessing the former. 'My pleasure.'_

_'You don't have to stay.'_

_'I promise, I'm more than happy to stay. I don't even know why I'm here, really.'_

You. To see you. Be near you. Talk to you.

_'Yeah,' the young man laughed. 'These parties do tend to leave you with a crippling sense of dire existentialism, don't they?'_

_Cullen smile-laughed, but the man took his silence a different way._

_'Well,' he added quickly, frown audible in his tone. 'I mean, it's fun, of course, I don't mean to say they aren't fun. It's just me being weird and dumb, of course they're fun, who wouldn't want to party with_ Fully Charged?'

_'Oh,' Cullen said, feeling instantly bad. 'I was—no, you were completely right. I hate these parties. They're utterly crap.'_

_But the man seemed wary now. 'You can go. I promise I'm coming out in like, ten seconds.'_

_Steam wafted gently under the door still. Cullen supposed it was nice and warm in there with the hot tap running._

_'Are you, uh?' he asked, casting around a hopeful glance. 'Hungry?'_

_'Not really.'_

_'You sure? There's_ _…' Cullen looked over at the sad offering of what passed for food. He supposed it had been room service before everything got utterly drowned in ketchup and pepper. 'Well, I could get you something?'_

_The man sighed. 'I haven't been dosed, OK? I promise, I'm completely fine. Go have fun elsewhere with someone who isn't a door.'_

_The only place Cullen wanted to go was to a kitchen so he could make something half decent for him. 'I'm happy to stay,' he said easily, returning to his seat. 'It's a great excuse to avoid everyone else.'_

_'Maybe you shouldn't come to parties if you don't_ like _parties.'_

_Cullen laughed, audibly that time. 'You've cleverly identified the flaw in my logic. I don't know, I was just_ _… wanting a change.'_

_'Are you a singer?'_

_Something inside Cullen told him to_ lie _, which was a weird instinct but the man sounded_ _… so fucking_ wary _and Cullen was a moron, so he lied and said, 'I'm just a normal person.'_

_He actually heard Dorian sigh. 'That's cool. Normal is cool, trust me. Whose are you?'_

_'Oh I'm, uh, with that guy who sings all the sad songs.'_

_'Don't know him.'_

_'Yeah, he's a bit of a twat.'_

_'They're all twats.'_

_It made Cullen sad, the way he said it. 'They can be, yeah.'_

_'If you need to go and see to him, I promise it's cool. No one's gonna come in here, even if the door doesn't lock.'_

_'I'm staying,' Cullen said firmly. 'You do whatever you need to.'_

_'Thanks.'_

_It was quiet for a while, Cullen cursing himself for not even being able to ask the man's name like a fucking coward._

_'So, uh,' came the voice from the bathroom, a little calmer now. 'Why did you want a change? Is this not your normal circuit?'_

_'Uh, I rarely come to these things. Parties.'_

_'How come?'_

_'Parties are exhausting.'_

_'Yeah, but they_ can _be fun too.'_

_It wasn't what Cullen had expected. 'Yeah,' he said slowly. 'I guess_ _… so?'_

_'I mean, I've been to loads of great parties. Some were life changing. It's just that these are the kind that are life changing for the wrong reasons. There's good parties out there.'_

_'Maybe not here, though.'_

_The man laughed shakily. 'Maybe not here.'_

_'We could—' Cullen cleared his throat, feeling instantly stupid but his two and a half beers gave him courage. 'If you wanted, we could go somewhere else? Get something to eat. Not in a_ date _way, or anything, well, that's—just for food. Food is important and I—'_ Fucking hell, Rutherford. _'If you wanted to be not here,' he added, pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head._

_There was a beat of silence before, 'I'm with Harry.'_

_'Yeah. No, that's great. Super, amazingly great.'_

_'Sorry, I'd be shit company anyway. Can't really breathe.'_

_Cullen looked up sharply. 'Are you OK?'_

_'I'm fine, I just_ _… lately I get this awful tight feeling in my chest.'_

_'Like a panic attack?'_

_'No,' the man dismissed. 'That's like_ _… no. This is minor, I think.'_

_'OK, well, I get panic attacks sometimes, or I used to. So, I would drop my head low, breathe longer on the exhale and think of next year.'_

_'What does that mean? Next year?'_

_Cullen's levels of fiddling with his bottle were at an all-time high._

_'I would try to think of what next year will be like, if it might be better and how so. It usually helped.'_

_The taps were still running, steam trickling beneath the door still when he said, 'Everything will be the same next year.'_

_Tearing the label slightly, Cullen spoke softly and said, 'It doesn't have to be.'_

_Krem returned to the suite, casting a wild glance around, landing on Cullen when he couldn't find what he was searching for._

_'Not out yet?' he asked in a rather urgent whisper._

_Cullen shook his head, about to leave when the young man said, 'How might things be different in a year? For you?'_

_Krem glanced between Cullen and the door, frowning slightly._

_'Uh,' Cullen said, searching for the right amount of guarded honesty, might have been a lot less guarded without Krem standing there. 'Just_ _… for things to be better. For me to make better decisions. To meet expectations, maybe.'_

_He didn't ask the same back even though he badly wanted to, just heard a small, thoughtful_ hmm _from inside. Krem used this time to slip past Cullen and gently knock._

 _'Dorian?' he called out and Cullen's world kind of_ tilted _because that was a fucking_ beautiful _name, so gorgeous and perfect it was almost familiar. 'I'm sorry, he really, really wants you up there.'_

_Cullen's phone burst to life, vibrating insistently. He glared down at it, but saw Fenris's name and so answered instantly, turning away._

_'Everything OK?'_

_'_ Hello to you too,' _Fenris said, sounding indignant._ 'I do sometimes call you, you know. Just to check in. Maybe to see how you're doing even.'

_Cullen chuckled despite himself. 'No, you don't.'_

_Even Fenris laughed._ 'No, look, there's about to be a minor police raid for drugs. All very standard, bribe collection mostly, but you don't want to be there for it. Just giving you a head's up.'

_He looked back, about to tell Krem but he was gone._

_The bathroom door was open, last of the steam filtering out with no source supply to maintain it any longer and they were both gone. Cullen felt_ _… weirdly disappointed and then irrationally angry with himself for feeling that way when he had no right to be._

_'Yeah, I'm done here anyway,' he said, grabbing his jacket from the pile by the door. 'Let's order pizza or something.'_

_*_

_'So, you found out his name?'_

_'Dorian. It's Dorian.'_

_'That's actually a lovely name.'_

_Cullen looked over from where he was lying flat out on the hotel bed, all full of pizza, hands behind his head. 'Right? It's a beautiful name. It's like, musical almost.'_

_'And he was having a panic attack?' Fenris asked, closing the pizza box after taking the last slice._

_'I think so,' Cullen said, looking back at the ceiling. 'I don't know. I felt so bad for him. I fucking detest that ginormous twat.'_

_'Harry's a prick, no denying.'_

_'Like, why doesn't he leave him? Dorian, I mean?'_

_'Cullen,' Fenris said flat but kind. 'Are you being serious?'_

_Cullen looked over. 'What? I'm just saying, he's clearly not happy with him, he was having some kind of panic attack in the bathroom at a party, I don't get—'_

_'Are you_ serious _?'_

_He opened his mouth to demand what his best friend meant when it occurred to him. 'Oh.'_

_'Yeah,_ oh _. Welcome to how we felt every single day you were with Madeline. You know why he might not want to leave, you know better than anyone.'_

 _Feeling somewhat stupid, Cullen couldn't let it go. 'Yeah, but he's different from me. He's_ _…'_ better, stronger, brighter, lovelier. _'I don't know. I just want him to be OK.'_

_'You're a natural caretaker, you want everyone to be OK.'_

_Cullen sighed, eyes closing. 'I guess.'_

_*_

_Over the coming weeks, Cullen did what he could to put Dorian out of his focus for three very specific reasons._

_The first one was how much he was building him up in his mind. It wasn't fair, wasn't healthy to imagine all the ways in which this man might be perfect, might be kind and funny and interesting. It was even less fair to do that when he was in a troublesome relationship with someone else. Also unfair on Cullen, who (apparently) had a tendency to idolise people._

_The second was that he literally couldn't get anything done. The urge to write songs about him was genuinely overwhelming. There were bits and pieces of a song, slowly piecing together no matter how he tried to ignore it._

_The third reason was the worst; that he would likely be disappointed somewhere down the road. That this level of focus on someone in such a skewed manner could only end badly, at best with crushing disappointment, at worst with a restraining order._

_He threw himself into learning what he could about interacting with the press. About just_ interacting _with people on a basic level. Fenris helped immensely, taught him mirroring, taught him clever tricks to make people feel listened to. Josie's crash course was more of a master's degree and though so much of it was counterintuitive to who he was, he wanted to make Lee happy. Wanted her to be proud of him, wanted to get through an interview without feeling mildly suicidal, so he worked hard._

_They began construction on a small beachside property on Lee's chunk of the Corsican island. A small place at first, just somewhere they could go and hide, should the need arise which Cullen felt certain it would. She had grander schemes, he knew. Saw her scribbling plans during meetings, outlines and shapes, ideas of perfection._

_As winter set in fully, always worst in the earliest months of the new year, Cullen daydreamed of that place, no matter the size, just to be somewhere warm, somewhere safe, somewhere else._

_Daydreams would have to be enough for a while._

_*_

_He was at lunch with Lee, Josie and Fenris when he got a call from Cassie. He stared down at it with a deep frown for a good three seconds before Fenris asked who it was._

_'It's_ _… Cassie,' he said warily, because close though they were, Cassie never called to chat. 'Hello?'_

_'_ Hey,' _came the familiar voice, somewhat marred with stress. '_ Uh, sorry to bother you but can we um… can we meet up and talk, please?'

_*_

_'He's still not answering. Fuck. Have you tried calling him?'_

_'We've all tried,' Lee said grimly as Fenris drove them to where Cassie had asked to meet. 'Even withheld my number, but he's not answering anyone.'_

_Cullen rubbed his face and swore again. 'She's going to ask me, isn't she? She knows. Cassie knows.'_

_'It might not be that,' Fenris suggested, but Cullen could tell he didn't quite believe it._

_Josie watched him warily. 'What are you going to do?'_

_'What else can I do but be honest?'_

_Leliana winced slightly. 'He'll be furious.'_

_Miserably, Cullen nodded. 'I know, but I can't lie to her. She's Danny's Mum, our sister in law. I can't lie to her.'_

_*_

_They met in a small coffee shop by the river, the winds blustering around them. Cassie was wrapped up in a coat and scarf, met Cullen with a tell-tale hug that lingered too long. They sat inside, watching the wind rip across the surface of the muddy waters._

_She held onto her coffee with both hands, smile tremulous._

_'You're his brother,' she said after they'd sat in silence for a long time. 'And I know that your loyalty is to him, technically, but I don't_ _… I don't know who else to ask, Cullen. You've always been so kind to me, always made me feel welcome, like a part of the family.'_

_He reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers._

_'You are family.'_

_She nodded and took a deep breath._

_'He's cheating on me again, isn't he?'_

_Cullen blinked, brain short-circuiting on that one word._

_'Again?'_

_'Last time, I'm sure he came to you, told you or whatever and I_ _… I know he's your brother and that's the way it is.' She sighed and turned her hand over to hold his properly. 'I knew about before, but I let it go. I don't know why I did it. Why I didn't confront him, it doesn't make sense in my head but it's…' her exhale trembled. 'I just, please will you tell me? So I know I'm not losing my mind? It's the same girl, right?'_

_'Cassie, I_ _… I have no idea. I'm sorry, I am so fucking sorry this is happening.' He swallowed. 'I knew about before. When he came to me, he was devastated and he swore to us that it wasn't going to happen ever again, he was crazy about you and Danny, he always has been. I don't know if he's—if it's still going on. Did something happen?'_

_The wind blew especially hard, causing the sign outside to almost topple over, despite the water weight._

_'I went through his phone,' she said dully. 'Not my proudest moment, I know, but I can't be in the dark anymore. I don't want to live like this.'_

_'Of course you don't. No one deserves that.'_

_'So,' she said, lifting her tearful gaze to him. 'You don't know anything?'_

_'No, I'm so sorry.'_

_‘He hasn't been home in two days. I spoke to him this morning, he made up some total bullshit lie about how he was at a work thing and he needed to stay overnight to do whatever the fuck he was babbling about.' Cassie wiped her eyes with a free hand, smiling bitterly. 'I was stupid before. Ignored things on purpose. Told myself it was fine, our marriage was strong and I could be the kind of wife who forgave. I was so fucking_ stupid _.'_

_'You're not stupid, Cass, you're amazing.'_

_She chuckled sadly, looking down at herself. 'Frumpy, boring, homey.'_

_'Gorgeous, funny and smart as a fucking whip,' he told her sternly. 'If he's—well then he's the stupid one, Cass. You're perfect. You're the best Mum in the whole world, Danny is the most incredible kid. If Bran is really doing this, then trust me, he's the idiot.'_

_'You always were a darling,' she said. 'I hate asking you this but I don't have anyone else_ to _ask. Don't have much in the way of family and I don't trust my friends not to go to the press because of, well,' she gestured at him with a smile. 'Who you are. I need to_ know _, Cullen. I need to see it. Need him to see me seeing it so I can realise how I really feel about it. If it's something I can forgive or not. It's clever, really. Burying me in lies like this. Means I can't tell how I actually feel.' She took a deep breath. 'Will you help me find him?'_

_*_

_'This is a bad idea.'_

_'It's the right thing to do.'_

_'He's going to be furious with you.'_

_'He's always furious with me. If he's cheating on Cassie again, despite what he said, then he—'_

_Fenris grabbed Cullen's arm, gentle but insistent, while Cassie stood nearby with Leliana, the pair conversing. 'Cullen, he might never forgive you for this. I'm not saying don't do it - if she'd come to me, I know I'd do it. Any decent person would. I just want you to know, before we do this, how it might go.'_

_Cullen looked away from Cassie, from Lee's arm around their sister in law. 'I know, Fen. I appreciate you telling me, but I can't_ not _do this. I just can't.'_

_Fenris nodded slowly. 'OK. I've traced his phone. He's less than an hour away. I hope you're ready for drama.'_

_At that, Cullen snorted, all false bravado and shallow, simulated strength. 'It's our speciality, isn't it?'_

_Quietly, Fenris said, 'Not this kind.'_

_*_

_Later, when Cullen sat alone drinking in the lower level of his apartment, he would reach a state of numbness that made it bearable to think about Bran's face when he'd realised who had brought his wife to that room. Later, he would pick up his guitar and play a melody in keys and chords he so rarely used because anger was unfamiliar to him._

_Later, Cullen would cry and curse every single misstep he'd ever made with his little brother, every missed opportunity to be closer, to show him how to ease that anger from his chest, to imprint upon him that he was loved, so fucking loved._

_But in the moment, the terrible, whirlwind moment of the now, he suffered and despaired as his younger brother's marriage fell apart before his eyes._

_'How the fuck could you do this?' Bran demanded, voice low and trembling, looking only at Cullen, not at Cassie, at the younger girl behind who pulled on her warm winter boots. 'How could you do this to your own brother?'_

_Cullen didn't have the words to form a reply to that, to shape something that would accurately represent how he felt, so Fenris stepped in._

_'This is not about him, or us,' he told Bran sharply while Lee stood with her arms around Cassie . 'This is about you and your_ wife.'

_Bran shot a brief, guilty glance at Cassie, looking away quickly, back to Cullen. 'How could you bring her here?'_

_'He did what I asked him to do!' Cassie burst out, tearful tremor taking nothing away from the strength of it. 'I_ asked _him for help and he gave it to me! Do not even try to make this about him, you cowardly fucker!'_

_Gaze fixed down, Bran said, 'I didn't want you to find out like this, you deserved better.'_

_Cassie left the safety of Lee's arms._

_'I deserved better than_ you _, you fucking child! Could you be any more of a cliche? The pretty young secretary? Christ, Bran. What about your son? Your life with us, huh? That means nothing to you?'_

_He still couldn't look at her._

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'Why did you do this?'_

_'I don't know.'_

_'You don't_ know _? Tell me, right the fuck now! Was it because you were bored? Not in love with me? TELL ME!'_

_'I_ _… don't know, I'm sorry.'_

_Cassie made a sound of deep, broken disgust before turning her attention on the younger woman. 'Did he tell you he loved you?'_

_Light blue eyes flitted to Bran and away again._

_'I_ _… um.'_

_Jaw setting, Cassie took a deep breath, looking her up and down. 'You want to have some self-respect, darling. I promise you can do better.'_

_Cullen felt a strange, awful kind of sympathy for the girl as she slipped from the room without a word from Bran, a sympathy he didn't want to examine too much._

_Once she was gone, Bran came to life. Whirled on Cullen again, all shaky fury, a more explosive brand of the brittle anger he'd struggled with as a child. 'You happy now, you piece of shit?' he demanded while Fenris put himself between Cullen and his younger brother, the way he had so often in their youth. 'Look at you, standing there! Rich and famous, couldn't bear for anyone to be doing better than you, yeah?'_

_'Take a deep breath and move the fuck_ back _!' Fenris warned._

_'Or what?'_

_'Stop blaming Cullen for the fact that you've been fucking another woman!' Cassie spat._

_'It's not just fucking!' he yelled, madness and terrible determination shining in his eyes. 'I love her! That's what you want to hear, yeah? I love her and she loves me and we were—we were trying to be nice about it, to be subtle but you had to go running to my fucking_ brother _, didn't you? The hero of the family, the centre of attention yet again! Maybe I just wanted something to be about me for once, you ever think of that?'_

_'Jesus,' Lee muttered. 'Look at your pupils, Bran. You're high as a fucking kite.'_

_Cullen had been so hoping he was imagining that._

_'Yeah, so what? Who doesn't do a bit of coke on the weekends? All the boys do.'_

_'My God,' Cassie said in a tone of hushed disgust. 'I didn't think you'd make it this easy.'_

_'You think this has been easy? You think it's easy being the boring one? The invisible one? The one nobody gives a shit about? Rosalie's out there living her best life, doing whatever she wants, sleeping with a different person every fucking night! This prick is famous, he could get with whoever the fuck he wants! These two have been fucking since they were teenagers! And I_ _…' his breath gave out, voice cracking._

_'Yeah?' Cassie said icily. 'You_ what _?'_

_Bran looked away. 'Got married too young. I didn't_ _… I shouldn't have… but I loved you and I—'_

_Cassie slapped him hard across the face and Cullen couldn't help but flinch, empathising with that all too familiar pain._

_'You could have come to me,' she hissed. 'You could have asked me for a divorce. But you wanted to have it all. Pretty girl on the side, cushy wife at home with your son. Fuck you, Branson! You don't get to have both. It's either or, and you_ know it. _Well, you've made your choice and so have I.'_

_She turned and left, Bran watching her go with wide eyes as if he somehow had not expected that._

_'I'm your brother,' he uttered, staring even after Cassie was gone. 'Does that mean nothing to you?'_

_Cullen, who'd said nothing since opening the door, took a slow, trembling breath._

_'It means everything to me,' he said. 'But it doesn't mean letting you hurt those who love you. It doesn't mean watching silently while you self-destruct.'_

_Branson sneered. 'You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?'_

_'Yeah, Bran,' Cullen said. 'I would. So take it from me, let the people who love you,_ help you _.'_

_Rubbing his nose, Bran scooped up his keys and wallet, yanked his jacket from the back of a chair so hard he knocked it over._

_'The day I need your help is the day hell freezes over,' he spat before storming out and leaving three behind, staring blindly at the mess._

_*_

_Cullen awoke hungover and full of prolonged, horribly stretched out anxiety. His mouth was dry and his eyes were itchy where he'd fallen asleep crying. There was someone knocking on his door._

_It was probably Bran, he realised with a sick feeling of dread. Cullen dragged himself out of bed, dressed as he had been the night before, un-showered and badly in need of one, alcohol still in his system._

_He opened the door, an apology ready to fall from his lips, but it wasn't Branson Rutherford standing there._

_'Cullen,' Madeline said, surveying him evenly, a small child on her hip, beautiful girl who Cullen would recognise anywhere, fucking_ anywhere _, no matter how much time had passed. 'You miss us?'_

_*_

_He ran around his kitchen trying to make coffee the way she liked, creating chaos with his trembling, graceless movements, with the nausea rolling in his stomach, with the sheer excitement pounding too hard in his heart._

_She waited in his living room, change bag on the floor beside her Louis Vuitton, while Sophia played by herself at the foot of the sofa._

_Cullen took a moment for himself in the kitchen, listening to her babble, to her darling little laugh. He closed his eyes, hands over his mouth, praying for strength._

_'Here you go,' he said, handing Madeline her coffee. She took it with a deceptively polite smile and he sat on the floor opposite Sophia, who wore a red dress with tights and a long sleeve top underneath. She had adorable fluffy boots on and her hair was way past her shoulders now, dark brown, just like her mother. 'Hi, Sophia.'_

_Alert, focused eyes moved onto him, her gaze intent. He could feel her studying him. It was a strange moment, an almost scary thing because for five months, it had been the two of them, plus the others. Now, she looked at him like she didn't_ quite _know him and why should she? It had been a year._

_'Hi,' she said, still surveying him with unswerving interest._

_He glanced up at Madeline, unwilling to look away from her for more than a second, his daughter. 'She's so beautiful.'_

_Sophia smiled at that, turning to face him fully and it made his heart flip over in his chest._

_'Of course she is,' Madeline said, sitting back. 'Soph, this is your Daddy.'_

_Cullen's gaze shot to her again, this time helplessly admonishing because of course he wanted to be that, to have Sophia know it and trust that he was her Father, but they'd been in each other's presence for less than five minutes._

_'Maybe you shouldn't—'_

_'I've always shown her pictures of you,' Madeline countered easily. 'I wanted her to know you, even if we couldn't be a part of your life until now.'_

_Sophia didn't seem to recognise Cullen, certainly not the way he recognised her. There was a level of wariness in the way she held herself, watching him with curiosity and yet restraint._

_'Hello, sweetheart,' he said, smiling at her softly._

_'Hello,' she said after another minute or so and then she got up,_ walking, _which was astonishing to Cullen. She moved past him, perfectly at ease, her movements steady. She kind of patted his head and went to examine his TV cabinet._

_Cullen watched her, heart in his throat. 'How have you been?' he forced himself to ask instead of the dozen other things he wanted to ask Madeline._

_'Wonderful,' she quipped. 'We've been travelling a lot, haven't we, Soph?'_

_Sophia ignored her mother, gently pulling on the gliding drawers, watching with fascination as they opened easily. She peered inside and then looked back to see if she was being watched, though that didn't stop her from quietly rifling around inside._

_'She's shy sometimes,' Madeline dismissed. 'I had her tested, she's not autistic or anything.'_

_Cullen bit down hard. 'So,' he said, tearing his gaze from his daughter. 'What brings you back?'_

_He already knew the answer. Knew it in his gut the moment he'd seen her in the doorway, holding the thing he loved most in the world._

_'Maybe I just missed you.'_

_He had to tread carefully. 'That's kind.'_

_She laughed. 'Nah, only joking. I didn't miss you at all. She did, though. Cried bloody murder for you at first, all through the night, I couldn't—'_

_'Please,' he said, eyes slamming shut. 'Please don't tell me about it.'_

_Madeline stopped abruptly and when he opened his eyes, she was surveying him strangely, that_ almost _guilt playing about the lines of her mouth._

_'Well, it's about time I let you see her again,' she went on, tossing her hair, old habit from whenever she was outside her comfort zone._

_'Thank you, I appreciate it.'_

_'And obviously, to talk about money.'_

_Cullen had been fully expecting that. 'Sure.'_

_'You owe me quite a lot by now.'_

_He blinked, mouth running ahead of him. 'I_ owe _you?'_

_'Of course. Child maintenance. Percentages of income. Costs, expenses.'_

_'Madeline, you_ took _her, I haven't even seen her in—'_

_'Don't you dare speak to me like that in front of our child.'_

_That was all it took. He closed his mouth with a snap, dropped his head and nodded. 'Sorry.'_

_'You may have gotten away with treating me second best for all those years before, but not anymore, Cullen. Not anymore. She comes first and I'm her Mother which means we -_ we _\- come first. Above that witch, above short stack, your family, everyone.' She leaned forward, coffee cup in hand as she looked around his place. 'You've done well. I see you in the papers, hear your sad little_ songs _everywhere. Look at you, all this money.'_

_She tipped the coffee cup upside down, sending a stream of lukewarm brown onto his light grey carpet._

_'How fucking ironic,' she said quietly. Cullen watched her do it, forcing himself to be impassive, to be calm. Did everything he could to_ not _think of that place, the room with the mirrors, red and cream, hand-prints on skin and so, so many other things that made his insides crawl. 'That you_ ' _re the affluent one now.'_

_Sophia was pulling things out of Cullen's drawers, careful and curious, while Madeline shook the last remaining vestiges of her drink on the carpet before tossing the mug high over her shoulder. It landed with a crash on the hard surface of his dining table._

_'Mummy broked it,' Sophia commented, not remotely perturbed._

_'Don't worry,' Madeline laughed, silky and calm. 'Daddy will clean it up.'_

_*_

_Cullen paid Madeline on the spot, which was a mistake. No need for hindsight, he knew even as he made the payment to her account that it was a bad first step, meant she would utterly obliterate him in the future but there was no point fighting her because she had his daughter._

_When she offered to let him see her on Saturday afternoon, only after verifying the payment, he knew he was completely fucked._

_'See you then,' she smiled, picking up Sophia and kissing her daughter's cheek. Cullen felt the irrational urge not to let Sophia_ go _with her, not this time. He wanted to grab her, keep her safe, keep her with him, but Sophia didn't know him and it was unthinkable, any measure of violence in front of his child._

_'Yes, see you then,' he said and managed to wait until the door was shut before he turned and bolted to the kitchen sink, voiding his stomach._

_*_

_Leliana would be furious, he knew it. She would chastise him for paying Madeline without first discussing it with them. She would tell him everything he'd done wrong and he just couldn't bear it._

_He didn't call Fenris, didn't call Lee._

_He called Matt._

_And Matt_ _… answered._

_*_

_Matt came to Cullen's place, asked no questions, offered no answers, just told Cullen to send his address. Matt was there way faster than Cullen anticipated and when someone knocked gently on the door, Cullen had been clearing up broken china, stupidly slicing the underside of his index finger open._

_He opened the door and got blood on it. Fantastic start._

_Matt looked him over, head to toe. Made no move to come inside, he just took in everything about Cullen._

_'Hey,' he offered, his strong, quiet tone so achingly familiar then that Cullen wanted to cry, maybe_ was _crying, it was hard to tell. 'Can I come in?'_

 _Matt washed the blood away. Held Cullen's hand under the cold tap for a minute or two like he was a child and Cullen_ let _him. He wrapped it in waterproof bandages._

_Cullen let Matt lead him up into the shower, undress him, walk him into the hot spray. Cullen had done the same for Fenris, it was what people did when someone they loved was falling apart._

_But Matt didn't love him, couldn't love him. Had a wife and kids, had a whole other life. He'd met Cullen in hotels, was careful, had never left his phone around. All the tiny details Cullen had obsessed about after he put two and two together. Those details didn't add up to fidelity, to love and loyalty._

_Yet, he let Matt strip off and get into the shower with him, let Matt wash and take care of him completely. He was methodical, careful. Cleaned Cullen completely and even though there was nothing sexual in it, no deviant intent, something inside Cullen_ ached _for it to go that way, to be held down, to be taken care of. Lift the weight, make him light, make him_ safe _and precious, the way he'd felt in Italy._

_Matteo Suena dried him off with fluffy towels, found comfortable clothes for him to wear and Cullen didn't speak until he was sat on his bed, Matt tidying up around him._

_He blinked hard, trying to root himself in the moment._

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'There's no reason for you to be sorry.'_

_He said it the way he'd always said everything. With absolute confidence and surety. Like he knew everything, had seen the world, was master of all and didn't need to brag. Cullen felt how much he'd really missed him._

_Matt took him downstairs, made him tea and a kind of sandwich that he fried in butter and covered in chili salt. It was spicy and delicious, burned as it went down and made him warm inside. He sat opposite Cullen at the breakfast bar after he cleaned up the shattered cup the proper way, without cutting himself._

_He'd told Cullen to stay back while he did it, like Cullen couldn't be risked near sharp things and Cullen bitterly supposed that was true, looking down at his freshly bandaged finger._

_'Why didn't you tell me?' he asked when the sandwich was mostly eaten and the tea was only a cold puddle at the bottom of the cup._

_Matt inhaled gently through his nose, thoughtful and steady._

_'Because you would have told me to go home to my wife.'_

_Cullen swallowed carefully over a heavy lump. 'I might not have.'_

_'Yeah, you would. You're a good guy, Cullen. Good isn't really the word, but it's the foundation of who you are. You would have told me to fuck off, albeit politely and I_ _…' he sighed, expression crumpling for a moment. 'I was too selfish. I wanted you, hadn't wanted anyone like that for so long and I did the wrong thing.'_

_'So, you're not_ _…' Cullen fidgeted. 'Not separated, even?'_

_'Marriage is complicated sometimes.'_

_'Don't treat me like a child, not with this.’_

_'I regret it,' Matt said, brown eyes shining earnestly, expecting nothing. 'Because you deserved better.'_

_'Are you still with her?'_

_'We're seeing a therapist, working through some stuff, but yes, we're still together.'_

_Cullen's eyes stung, throat bobbing, hating himself for the reaction, wishing he could just find and kill whatever it was inside of him that was so pathetically_ hopeful. _Part of himself that never fucking learned, no matter how many times it got slapped around._

_'Did you tell her?'_

_Matt paused before answering, 'Yeah.'_

_'My brother was cheating on his wife. We confronted him yesterday. It was awful. And I was just looking at the girl, you know? That could have been me, if your wife found out, confronted you in the hotel. That_ would _have been me.'_

_'You didn't know and if you did, you wouldn't have come near me.'_

_'I might have.'_

_'If you did, you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with.'_

_It was a tiny sob, but Cullen still felt like a failure for not being able to contain it better, contain_ himself _. 'I loved you too.'_

 _'I know you did. And I told myself not to fall for you, but how could I not? You're_ _…' he trailed off, shaking his head. 'Cullen, you'll make someone so happy one day. Someone who_ deserves _you.'_

_Cullen wished he could get angry, the way Bran could. Wished he could snarl at the man not to offer him platitudes and patronising wisdom, but he was so low, so empty and Matt had filled that space once, albeit briefly._

_'My ex came back,' he said instead. 'With our daughter.'_

_'What was that like?'_

_'She smashed the cup. Asked for money, which I gave. But she's going to let me see Sophia on Saturday, I think.'_

_'I hope she does.'_

_'I still haven't told Lee or Fenris about it yet.'_

_'You think they'll be mad that you paid her.'_

_'Lee will. Fenris will just be disappointed that I caved so quickly.'_

_'Hey,' Matt said, frowning slightly. 'You did what's best for your kid. The best thing for her is to see you, isn't it? You did everything you could to make that happen. You can work on making things better as you go, but your instincts are solid. You should trust them more.'_

_Cullen rubbed his eyes. 'My instincts told me to trust you.'_

_Matt said nothing for a long time. 'Your trust was a privilege I shouldn't have squandered.'_

_'Why didn't you text me back?'_

_'Cullen, I_ _… fuck, I didn't want to hurt you by begging, I thought it wasn't fair of me to make it harder. You sounded so final and I wanted to respect that.'_

_'You hurt me by not begging,' Cullen whispered. 'By not caring enough to fight.'_

_Matt seemed at a loss. 'I couldn't fight for you. I'm sorry.'_

_Cullen looked out at the grey skies of London. 'If you couldn't fight for me, you shouldn't have been with me in the first place.'_

_'You're right.'_

_'Were you laughing at me? You and your wife, in therapy? Laughing at what I_ _… what I wanted?'_

_'Never. We don't talk about you. Therapy is for what's broken between us, nothing to do with you.'_

_Silence stretched on, not yet turning awkward. Things had never been awkward with Matt. Cullen had loved that._

_'I think,' Cullen said slowly. 'Maybe you should go now. I feel_ _… really low. Vulnerable. I can't promise not to uh,' he sighed despondently. 'Throw myself at you.'_

_Matt got to his feet. 'There's nothing wrong with wanting comfort when you're hurting. Nothing to be ashamed of. For what it's worth, I'd have said no anyway, wouldn't let you do that to yourself just for my own selfish desire.'_

_'Of course you'd have said no,' Cullen intoned, monotonous and bleak._

_'Not because I—'_

_'Yeah, I get it. You should leave.'_

_Matt was so calm. Cullen missed him so much then, wanted him back, would have agreed to anything in the moment just to feel the way only Matt had ever made him feel._

_'If you need me again, for anything, don't hesitate to call me, all right?'_

_'Yeah,' Cullen lied, knowing he never would. 'Thanks for everything.'_

_'No, uh, actually,' Matt said, a little gruff, standing behind Cullen now, closer to the door. 'Thank you. Thank you for letting me know you. It was more than I will ever deserve.'_

_Cullen was glad he was behind him, glad he couldn't see the way his face screwed up, tears spilling. 'Take care, Matt.'_

_'You too, songbird.'_

_*_

_They were neither angry nor disappointed. Cullen felt immensely stupid for thinking they would be, knew deep down he'd made it worse in his head than it would be in reality, but maybe he'd needed to call Matt, to see him again, even if it was one last time._

_If there was any anger in them, it was directed at Madeline and even then, Cullen couldn't detect much of it._

_Mostly, they seemed to sense that he needed them._

_'It'll be fine,' Lee promised him, kissing his hand while Fenris made tea and it was all so familiar again, this same story over and over. Suffering and comfort, suffering and comfort. Cullen was grateful for them beyond words but he was sick of suffering._

_'Thanks. I just hope she lets me see her.'_

_'She will,' Fenris said. 'If only to further negotiate for money, likely a regular income.'_

_'This is going to be brutal,' Lee sighed._

_Cullen laughed hollowly. 'What happened to fine?'_

_'It'll work out in the end,' she said. 'But before that, we need to make ready.'_

_Fenris gave Cullen his tea, sitting by his other side._

_'We'll be ready.'_

_*_

_On Saturday, Madeline turned up almost two hours late with Sophia to the park but Cullen didn't complain, even when he knew he should have. He was too happy to see Sophia._

_'Thanks so much,' he told Madeline and walked away as Leliana made a disapproving noise. 'Shall we go on the swings, sweetheart?'_

_Sophia smiled, taking his hand. ‘OK!'_

_He left Fenris and Lee behind to speak with Madeline, only focused on taking Sophia into the park. They played on everything. He squeezed himself down the slide with her on his lap, drew the attention of many a Mum in the park but he tried not to think of it._

_At one and a half, Sophia's speech was very advanced. Cullen still read all the parenting books, kept an eye on milestone trackers because he loved to imagine what she'd been up to, even when parted from her. She spoke clearly, in limited fashion but it was her clever knowing gaze that impressed Cullen most of all._

_'Daddy,' she declared softly, not saying it to ask a question, not for anything except to speak the word, to name him. She carefully wrapped her arms around him then, moving into a gentle hug that nearly broke his heart. He pressed a kiss to her hair, pressed dozens of them, light and fleeting, allowing himself to smell her hair, her skin. She was so much the same, his tiny little baby girl. He felt tears in his eyes as she patted his back._

_'What shall we go on now?' he asked, trying to make his voice sound bright and strong even as he wiped away tears. 'Big slide?'_

_'Big slide!' she agreed excitedly._

_*_

_'We should consult a lawyer.'_

_Fenris snorted. 'We should_ get _a lawyer.'_

_'We already have a legal team.'_

_'Get your sharky friend, Morrigan. She'll tear Madeline to pieces.'_

_'No tearing anyone to pieces,' Cullen said sternly while he cooked and the other two debated back and forth about how to proceed with Madeline's outrageous monthly demands._

_'Cullen,' Lee said, exerting effort to remain patient. 'This is a test. She doesn't expect us to actually pay this much, she's pushing, like a child testing boundaries. We cannot pay this amount to her each month. The whole thing is preposterous anyway. If we loop back to_ reality _for a moment here, let's remember that you owe her nothing because she left Sophia with you for five months. That she abandoned her. We could take her to court and likely secure fifty-fifty custody, perhaps even more with Morrigan's help.'_

_'No court.'_

_'Cullen, be reasonable!'_

_'She could turn around and say I'm not—' he cut himself off abruptly, unable to even voice it, his greatest fear. 'Look, for now we can meet her halfway at least. No legal team or anything like that, right? I'm happy to buy her a house, to set her up with Sophia however she likes. Maybe it'll be somewhere nearer.'_

_Lee and Fenris shared a look. 'If you capitulate this early on, she'll be impossible to deal with.'_

_Cullen sighed. 'She has Sophia.'_

_'That cannot mean she gets whatever she wants.'_

_'For now, it has to. Anyway,' he added, moving on. 'How's Cassie?'_

_Leliana sighed heavily. 'She's doing pretty well, considering. I'm helping her get set up with a divorce lawyer and she's moving out. Bran hasn't been back to the house.'_

_'He's still with the girlfriend,' Fenris supplied darkly._

_Cullen tried very hard not to think of how he'd been the_ boyfriend _, only a few months ago._

_'Living with her?'_

_'For now. I called Thom Rainier. He's keeping an eye on him.'_

_'Thom? Why'd you call him?'_

_'He's in private security now, so I hired him. He knows Bran and he knows how to keep his distance. We should consider hiring him again, maybe on a semi-permanent basis.'_

_'You trust him?'_

_'I do, yeah. He's pretty good too. I could train him up myself, he's the kind of guy who wouldn't be insulted by the offer.'_

_Lee smirked. ‘Even though we were the kids he constantly hauled back from the long arm of the law?’_

_Fenris was undeterred. ‘He’s a good guy.’_

_Cullen nodded distractedly. 'Whatever you think is best.'_

_'Can we talk about Matt yet?' Lee asked when Cullen sat down to dinner with them. It had been four days since he'd told them, with no detail, that Matt had come round._

_'There's not much to say,' Cullen sighed. 'Nothing happened. We're still broken up. He's still with his wife.'_

_Fenris cracked a light dusting of sea salt over his meal. 'Doesn't mean we can't talk about it. You never really did.'_

_'I don't think I need to,' Cullen said after a beat of hesitation, of introspection. 'I think maybe I'm OK, about this if nothing else.'_

_Lee smiled at him, a tiny hint of sadness in it. 'We'll be here, regardless.'_

_*_

_Nightmares had never really been an issue for Cullen. When they came, they were rare but_ _… memorable. A shadow, a figure that followed him. Pursued him no matter where he went and in the nightmare, he felt the most gripping, unstoppable sense of inevitability. Hopeless and terrified, he would flee, but the shadow would always catch up, would get to him no matter what and every moment he lived in that in-between was borrowed time._

_That night he awoke in a sweat, heart pounding painfully as he tried to breathe, to remind himself he was safe, in his bed._

_In the nightmare, he'd been walking Sophia through the park at night and each time he looked back, the shadow grew closer._

_Inevitable._

_Sleep after that was a lost cause. He gave up, got out of bed and made tea. Fenris was asleep downstairs and though Cullen tried his best not to wake him, he sensed when his friend's REM cycle was broken, deep inhale signalling consciousness._

_'You OK?' he asked, sitting up._

_'Can't sleep.'_

_Fenris blinked. 'Shadow dream?'_

_Cullen nodded and made tea._

_'Want to talk about it?'_

_'No, it's fine. Just need to shake it off.'_

_'Make me one, then, will you?'_

_'Course. Sorry I woke you.'_

_They sat together for a while, drinking tea in comfortable silence, neither needing to speak with any degree of immediacy._

_But eventually, curiosity won out within Cullen. 'How's Bran?'_

_'Doing OK. Drinking way too much, but he's_ _… getting by, I think.'_

_'Rosalie's staying with him in the house?'_

_'Just for a couple of days, helping him adjust to being alone in there.'_

_'Do you think I—?'_

_'You did the right thing,' Fenris said before he could even ask. 'Cassie already knew and Bran was beyond careless. The wrong thing would have been to turn her away. You did not make this mess.'_

_'He's my brother, though.'_

_‘We’ll help him however we can, but what he did_ _… it's not OK.'_

_'I feel rotten, like I really did betray him.'_

_'He was never going to thank you for it.'_

_'I do leave him out. I leave them both out, Rosie too, just that she's more insistent about wedging herself in.'_

_'Hey,' Fenris said softly. 'You have always done what's right by them. Loved them, cared for them. They're adults, Cullen, they lead their own lives.'_

_'You and Lee, I see you every day, sometimes all day and night. I want to see you all the time, I don't_ _…' he shook his head. 'I don't think about them like that.'_

_'Because you still see them as children in some ways,' Fenris observed. 'You don't think of them as friends.'_

_'What does that even mean, that word? I see people with friends, with normal friends. They meet for coffee. I'd_ _…' he cleared his throat. 'I'd die without you and Lee.'_

_Fenris glanced to the side, seeming to bite down on something. 'That doesn't mean you've given less to the kids. That you're in any way responsible for what Branson chose to do.'_

_'I can't believe he would do that to her, to Cassie. Danny is five now, he's in school. He'll_ remember _this, their breakup.'_

_'He has enough people who love him and Cassie is an incredible Mum.'_

_'Yeah, she is.'_

_'You did not break them up._ You _,' Fenris said, leaning forward. 'Did nothing wrong. Do you understand that?'_

_'I just feel—'_

_'No, you did nothing wrong. That's not me being reassuring. That's plain fact. You did nothing_ wrong _, Cullen. Fuck, I wish I could make you see that, if nothing else. You still carry too much.'_

_Cullen gave a bitter, dull laugh. 'That's why I liked Matt so much. He would_ _…'_

_But when he shook his head trailing off, Fenris moved closer, moving so they were side by side almost. 'Tell me?'_

_Cullen tried to put it into words, despite the awkward way his throat wanted to close up, keep the secrets inside._

_'He knew how to make me feel lightweight. He could make it all go away. It was crazy, but so perfect. I've never felt anything like that. He had this way of just knowing what I needed.'_

_'Which was what?'_

_'To feel_ _… small.'_

_Cullen didn't say anything else, didn't look at his friend, but he felt his gaze on him. Felt the intensity belying the quiet. It was a while before Fenris leaned his head on his shoulder and said, so hushed it was barely a whisper, 'Must have been nice.'_

_*_

_The next time he met with Madeline, he took a deep breath and told her, 'We need to have a conversation.'_

_***_

_They met alone in her place, Lee and Fenris taking Sophia to lunch. It was her idea to meet there and Cullen had agreed although he didn't especially_ want _to enter her domain such as it were._

_It was small, cramped, but filled with Madeline's pretty things. Makeup table, illuminated mirror, all her products, her silks and finery._

_'Sophia's room,' she said, pointing casually to a door. Cullen opened it, peering inside. It was very neat, the walls were cream coloured, hardly any toys inside, save for a small chest at the foot of the bed. It was plain, stripped back, functional._

_He closed the door, trying not to let himself be drawn into her games before they'd even spoken. In the living room he took a seat, looking around at the photographs in frames._

_There were three of Cullen. One of him and Madeline together on Christmas day, picture taken by Bran or Cassie. Another depicted the two of them at the wedding, Cullen all decked out in formal wear and Madeline looking stunning in her rose red dress. They were dancing together in that one, noses touching._

_The third was just of Cullen, a picture Madeline had taken on her phone. He was half turning, smiling wryly._

_He was happy in all of them, or as happy as he'd ever been with Madeline. Those moments immortalised and framed for all time, Sophia's limited understanding of him based on such._

_Cullen sought to centre himself, looking back at Madeline. She was watching him, always watched him in such a way. Sharp eyes and a clever, knowing gaze like she could see the inside of him._

_'So,' she said. 'What shall we talk about?'_

_'Sophia.'_

_'And by association, the money you owe.'_

_Cullen let all the things he_ wanted _to say to her play out in his head before he settled on a simple, 'Yes.'_

_'Nothing else?' she asked, light and curious. 'Nothing else you want to say to me? You've had plenty of time to twist everything in your head by now. Probably even seen a therapist like the pussy you are. No latent anger to work through? No tragic anguish to share with me?'_

_'Madeline, I don't want things to be this way between us.'_

_'Like what?'_

_'I don't want to argue with you or be like this.'_

_She sat forward, eyes narrowing. 'We're not arguing, we're talking. Talking is civilised.'_

_'Yes,' he said again, biting down hard on all else that wanted to come spilling out. 'I want to be civil, for Sophia's sake.'_

_'Not for mine?'_

_Cullen hated that he remembered exactly how to tread carefully with her. 'For everyone's sake.'_

_She smirked at that. 'Say what you need to. Imagine you're in your safe place with those two. Go on, be_ honest _with me, Cullen.'_

_Oh, imagine if he was honest._

_'All I want is to take care of Sophia and she lives with you, so I want to take care of you as well.'_

_'As you should.'_

_'But what you're asking is too much.'_

_'You're a superstar, a millionaire.'_

_'Not from my music, not by a long shot,' he hedged carefully. 'I have a proposal, if you'll hear it.' He waited and when she shrugged, he went on. 'I'm happy to put you up somewhere bigger and nicer. Wherever you want, obviously, though close by would be ideal. I'm also happy to contribute a monthly amount.'_

_'How much?'_

_'A quarter of what you were asking.'_

_Her neutral expression twisted. 'A_ quarter?'

_'Yes.'_

_'No.'_

_'Madeline—'_

_'No, here's my counter. Sophia is not_ yours _biologically and we both know it,' she said, speaking slow and deliberate. 'Because you could never fuck me like I wanted. You could never make a child, you're not man enough. So I'm being generous, letting you be in her life at all. Now, you can take me to court if you want,' she added, watching him for any change in his expression, which he fought to contain. 'But when it comes out that she isn't yours, that she's the daughter of any number of the_ real men _I slept with, what will you do then? You don't want to fuck with me, Cullen. You should never have fucked with me.'_

_He closed his eyes. 'I didn't.'_

_'No? You're still with_ them _, aren't you? Still as close as ever with her? God, you make me sick. To think of how you were cheating on me from day one with that red headed whore.'_

_'I never cheated on you,' he said, but it was tired and useless even to his own ears. Deep down, he knew that she knew it. It was all a flex._

_'You probably fucked_ him _as well,' she hissed. 'Disgusting degenerate that you are, shouldn't even let you near my daughter. How well do you think that'll go down in court? History of drug abuse, history of_ violence _.' She looked at the three pictures of him and smiled. 'They weren't the only ones I kept,' she said softly. 'I took pictures of what you did to me that night. Bruises around my throat, my wrists. I documented all of it. Even recorded our arguments sometimes. You should hear yourself scream at me. Quite the_ voice _, even then.'_

_He rubbed his eyes. 'Madeline, please.'_

_'And you think I don't know how the witch got those scars? You think I didn't read between the lines about who exactly it was who stabbed her?'_

_He looked up sharply. 'What?'_

_'You heard,' she said, smug and vicious. 'Fenris was the one who stabbed her and while I find it_ hilarious _, I bet the press would be interested in that too. The money I could make from all the stories I could tell.'_

_'Fenris didn't do that.'_

_'No? The tabloids won't want evidence, just a hint of a story. I read your last interview, the one you completely screwed up. The press are already sniffing around your little childhood triangle. It'll only take a nudge from me and your entire life goes off the side of a cliff. So you see,' she added sweetly, sitting forward. 'I was being_ generous _with my requests before, lover. You should be on your knees before me, pleading for how you can keep me happy. In fact,' she said, something malicious and deeply unsettling coming into her expression. 'Do it.'_

_'What?'_

_'Get on your knees. Come on, you want to see your daughter, don't you? Get on your knees.'_

_It was like all the air in the room vanished. He regretted seeing her, wished he had listened when the others warned him not to be alone with her._

_'No? Cat got your tongue?' she purred, crossing the small distance between them, purposefully sliding into his lap, even as he went rigid. He lifted his hands to push her off but she took him by the wrists, straddling him. 'Are you going to injure me to move me away? Give me more lovely bruises to photograph?'_

_His skin was getting way too tight, lungs contracting, everything was_ wrong. _'Get off me.'_

 _She tilted her head, smirking loosely. 'Why? You always loved it when we did it this way, me in your lap instead of_ under _you. You used to beg for it, do you remember?'_

_He blindly pulled his hands away but she found them again, pressed them to her hips and slowly began to move over him. 'Please, stop.'_

_'Oh,' she said, smiling wider. 'I do like it when you say_ please _.'_

_'Madeline, stop.'_

_'Or what? What are you going to do? Never see your daughter again? Is it really worth that? Come on,' she added in a lower whisper. 'Let me make you feel good again.'_

_His ears were ringing, nervous system misfiring in a way that made him think he was_ dying _when he said, 'You never made me feel good.'_

_She stopped._

_'What?'_

_He couldn't open his eyes, face averted, breath coming in short, shallow gasps when he said, 'You never made me feel good.'_

_There was a beat of silence before she said, 'I made you scream my name. I made you beg for more. I—'_

_'You never made me feel_ good _. Never.'_

 _'How the fuck can you say that?' she demanded, almost breathless with the kind of anger Cullen recognised all too well, terrified him still. 'I took care of you. I made you into everything you are now! You used to_ plead—'

' _You hurt me,' he blurted out. 'You hurt me and you made me do things I didn't want to do and_ _… and when I couldn't, you hurt me even more.'_

_Slowly, she let go of his wrists and moved off of him. He didn't open his eyes until her weight was entirely gone._

_Madeline stood in front of him, expression twisted with cold, disbelieving disgust. Beneath it, though, there was something far worse._

_Rejection._

_'I gave you the best years of my life.'_

_Cullen tried to pull himself together, to drown out the low level internal scream that set his teeth on edge. 'They were the worst of mine.'_

_He saw the tiny intake of breath, way her eyes widened and his heart sank all the way down when she snarled, 'Get out,' because he knew what it meant._

_*_

_Three months passed in which he didn't see Sophia once. Fenris kept an eye on them peripherally, made sure they were safe and he assured Cullen they were both still in London, still in the tiny flat._

_'She's just making you sweat,' he told Cullen over and over, concern etched into every part of him. 'She'll come around.'_

_Cullen had tried to apologise. Had sent messages to her new number, had tried calling. As the weeks had gone on without a reply, he started to become increasingly frantic, missing his daughter too much to be borne. He pleaded with Madeline to give him another chance._

_He'd missed Sophia ever since Madeline had taken her the first time, but this was a different kind of hurt. It was fresh, new and it was_ fixable _. Madeline hadn't left London. She was nearby, just waiting for him to figure out what she wanted and it was driving Cullen mad._

 _Nothing his friends could do seemed to help. They offered logic and rationality interwoven in their comfort, but he couldn't_ hear _it. He couldn't write, couldn't eat or sleep. It burrowed deep in his bones, awful feeling of failure, the kind that could only come from Madeline. Abstract sensation of loss. He obsessed about what Sophia might be thinking, if she missed him too._

_At the end of the three months, Cullen stood outside her door sometime after midnight, eyes closed, muttering the word please over and over under his breath as he waited to see if she would answer his gentle knock. He'd texted her too, prayed she wasn't too angry._

_When the door opened, his heart jolted, eyes flying wide._

_'Madeline, please,_ please _hear me out,' he blurted as quickly and quietly as possible, wary of waking Sophia at such an hour._

_She surveyed him coolly, arms crossed._

_'This is pathetic, even for you,' she commented. 'Considering you're_ too good for me. _'_

_'I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all. Please. Please don't keep me out of her life. I'll do whatever you want, I'll pay what you wanted somehow. Please, Madeline.'_

_Unmoved, she cocked her head. 'You said all that in your whiny messages. What have you got to offer me by being_ here _?'_

 _There it was, the awful moment come due that Cullen had been dreading, obsessing over. He held himself together and leaned slightly on the door frame, crushing down all the_ bad _inside._

_'Whatever you want.'_

_Her contemplative pause stretched on for longer than he could bear, anxiety bubbling and clashing with panic, with fear and above all, the anguish of being apart from his daughter. To offer Madeline Hawke whatever she wanted was a dangerous and irreversible thing that his friends would be appalled to learn of, but he couldn't help it._

_Cullen wouldn't lose Sophia, not this time. And if the price was limited to himself in terms of damage, then he could cope with that._

_He would_ make _himself cope._

_'Did you come here offering to fuck me?'_

_It hurt, everything about Madeline_ hurt _so much._

_'Whatever you want,' he repeated, keeping his gaze averted, every muscle in his body locked tight as he waited._

_'Come here.'_

_He took a step closer, felt her long, polished fingernails brush his skin as he lifted his chin. Her brown eyes moved between his, gaze soft and searching._

_'You really came here to give me yourself, didn't you?' she murmured, stroking the side of his face with the backs of her fingers, his left cheek that had been on the receiving end of countless slaps because she was right handed. 'To make me feel good?'_

_He nodded jerkily, not trusting himself to speak._

_'That's so sweet,' she said, moving into him, the frame of the doorway directly around them and between them. 'You were always sweet, sickly sweet and so soft, so full of_ kindness _and_ goodness _.'_

_Her lips touched his, but it wasn't a kiss, just a brush of skin. Cullen's body gave a barely suppressed shudder and he held back what he could of the dull horror creeping through him._

_'That's why it was so_ fun _to watch you twist yourself into something bad,' she told him, intimate whisper making his head spin for all the wrong reasons. 'To watch you hurt yourself, see all that pain and self-loathing grow inside you while you tried to make me happy. It was so fun, Cullen, you have no idea, but even despite that, you never,_ ever _made me feel good either.'_

_Abruptly, she shoved him backwards. He stumbled, almost fell but caught himself on the railing behind._

_She chuckled coldly, savagely pleased. 'So, your sad little self-sacrificial_ offer _is worthless. The only thing I want from you is your money.'_

_Cullen stared, couldn't do anything but stare, the place on his chest where she'd pushed him was burning._

_'Maybe_ now _you'll learn that saying_ no _to me is always a mistake. Pay what I asked for and I'll let you see her. You're delusional to believe you have anything else anyone would ever want.'_

_*_

_Cullen didn't think he'd ever seen Leliana so angry that she went all the way back around to being completely calm. Her anger was a vibrant, terrifying thing of absolute beauty; glorious indicator of her passion and goodness, her sense of justice and the fierce way she loved._

_But when he told her what he'd done, told her the reason why Madeline sent her account details to Leliana's number with an amount below that was not remotely up for negotiation, his best friend went very quiet, very still._

_'I don't know what to say.’ She was wearing his old, faded tee, the one she'd stolen and claimed as her own when they'd all lived together in bracing poverty. It was late; only an hour before he'd been at Madeline's, had come straight to Leliana's and she'd been asleep like most normal people. 'I really don't know what to say.'_

_Cullen nodded, blinking back tears, trying to swallow all his sadness and grief, this living amalgamation of every bad thing inside him._

_He'd told her everything, every single thing Madeline had said, head in his hands, voice a broken whisper and this_ _… this might have been the lowest he'd felt for years._

_'I'm sorry.'_

_Lee shook her head, expression crumpling as she opened her arms to him, wordless offer of comfort that he took without hesitation, could not be parted from her because no one better understood the full scale of what Madeline had done to him, not even Fenris. She was warm and soft and she smelled of home, the home he'd let go of years ago and regretted every day._

_He wrapped himself around her and cried harder than he could ever remember doing._

_*_

_'Maybe I need help,' he said the next morning as she made tea, the pair of them having fallen asleep together on her ridiculously comfy couch._

_'Like therapy?'_

_His voice sounded rough because he'd cried a lot. Eyes sore and heart aching still, he said, 'Yeah, maybe antidepressants too. I don't know. I just think I need some help.'_

_Leliana sat beside him, offered a warm mug of tea and half hugged him, kissing his shoulder. 'Whatever you need.’_

_They sat together very close, quietly drinking tea for a while._

_'We have meetings today,' he said eventually._

_'I don't give a fuck about any of that. This is more important.'_

_'Lee—'_

_'You're not worthless, Cullen. I need you to tell me you know that, if anything else. Please.'_

_In the moment, he could feel her arm around his waist, her warm body against his side. He could hear each of her soft breaths, smelled her expensive soap; summer roses and ink. He heard her kitchen clock ticking gently in the background and beyond her windows, he heard the sound-scape of London. Busy life, cars and buses._

_'I'm not worthless.'_

_‘That’s fucking right. You are_ not _worthless and all her power over you rests in your continued inability to see it. Do you have any idea how much I love you?'_

_A choked laugh bubbled up inside him. 'A lot?'_

_'Yeah,' she said, sniffling slightly and he could tell she'd rolled her eyes, even though he stared determinedly down at his mug of tea. 'A lot. Idiot,' she added fondly._

_'I'm sorry for going there last night.'_

_Lee sighed gently. 'You're sorry because it gave her power over you, over us, financially. You're not sorry for what you should be. We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to, but what you were going to let her do_ _… nothing is worth that. You matter. You matter to me, to Fenris, to Sophia. To the kids, even despite this bullshit with Bran. You matter to Josie and to Isabela. You matter to every single person who has heard your songs, been changed by them. All those people who've written to you, you_ matter _to them. I need you to start realising it, my love. And we'll get you help too. Whatever you need. Always, whatever you need, you know that.'_

_He screwed his eyes tight. 'I hate needing anything.'_

_'You have to learn how to let that go. Or are you saying I can't lean on you when I need to? That Fenris can't come to you when he's low?'_

_'No, of course not.'_

_'Then let us help. Let_ me _help you. I've been taking antidepressants since I was sixteen. I have therapy once a fortnight. It's not for everyone, but I do think you're right. You need help and just admitting that is a first step that I'm so proud of.'_

_Quietly, as if whispering made it not real, he said, 'I feel like I'm letting you both down.'_

_'No,' she told him firmly. 'We want the best for you. If this is what you need, that's fantastic. You asking for help when you need it makes me happy.'_

_'I don't deserve you.'_

_'You deserve the world, Cullen. One day, you'll see it, I promise.'_

_*_

_With money, therapy was easy to come by in a way it simply had not been for Fenris years ago. Money opened doors that were otherwise sealed shut for those less fortunate. It made Cullen uncomfortable as he sat in the waiting room, awareness of a broken system he wished he could fix. Made him think of Declan, the kid from rehab, who'd pragmatically laid out his many dozens of issues as statement of fact as if there was nothing to be done. An almost cheerful acceptance about his suffering that made Cullen sad to that very day._

_When he was called inside, he took in the comforting space, the neutral design, the natural light. A woman stood waiting for him, two chairs opposite one another, no desk in between._

_'Hello Cullen,' she greeted with a handshake and a kind smile. 'I'm Doctor Susan Wynne. Please take a seat.'_

_With Lee and Fenris waiting outside, Cullen immediately felt awkward. He felt vulnerable and almost naked, but managed a nervous smile as he faced the older woman with stylishly cut grey hair that reminded him vaguely of Meryl Streep in that fashion film Josie had made him watch. She was poised and seemed benignly curious._

_'How are you today?'_

_He wrung his hands gently. 'I've been better.'_

_'Have you had therapy before?'_

_'No. Just group therapy in rehab. That was for drug addiction though.' He looked up, met her unwavering gaze. 'Lee said this is all confidential.'_

_'Yes, everything is confidential. I'm used to seeing people who require NDA's signed. I don't record my sessions or take notes. Does that make you feel more comfortable?'_

_'I guess.'_

_'Perhaps feeling comfortable in your own skin is something we could aim for together, if you decide to see me on a regular basis.'_

_'I'm here now, aren't I?'_

_'For a consultation. We might not be a good fit. There are plenty of others in my field who I would be happy to recommend if we don’t flow.’_

_'I don't think I'll flow with anyone.'_

_'The idea of therapy is difficult to most, especially those who struggled in their youth. Asking for help at a time when we feel we should be fully formed and at our strongest can feel like failure.' She sat forward, hands clasped loosely together. 'Yet, you're here, Cullen. So, let's talk about what you could get from these sessions. What, in an ideal world, you'd like to take away from our potential time together.'_

_'I honestly don't know,' he said quietly, staring in the direction of her windows. 'I'm sick of being such a burden to my friends. Of not being able to cope like they can.'_

_'Everyone copes at different levels. We are all unique, we have various strengths and weaknesses.'_

_'I feel like I only have weaknesses.'_

_'Can you give me an example?'_

_'Like_ _…' he gestured, sighing. 'Now. This. Sitting here in therapy and for what? A breakup? A bad past relationship? I'm luckier than so many. I have the best friends in the world and I…'_

_His throat closed up, nose furling a little._

_'You think they should be enough.'_

_'They_ are _enough. They're everything, they're more than enough.'_

_'But you're here,' she said gently. 'Asking for help outside their realm does not imply failure on their part. If anything, it speaks for how well they've cared for you that you even considered asking for help. Most never do.'_

_'Most can never afford it,' he muttered._

_'That's true. Does money make you uncomfortable?'_

_'I don't really know. I don't think about it. My friend, Lee, she manages everything. She always has.'_

_'Always?'_

_'Yeah, ever since we were kids.'_

_'Childhood friends, then.'_

_'Yes.'_

_'And the other man with you, he's your childhood friend too?'_

_'Fenris, yeah. We've always been friends. We all lived together when my uh, when my parents and my sister died. They helped me raise my younger brother and sister.'_

_'Hmm. If I may make an observation?' Cullen nodded, nerves jangling slightly. 'When I asked you about yourself, you answered with something about your friends. Is that a common defence mechanism for you?'_

_Cullen looked down at his hands. 'Maybe. How would you help me?'_

_'We would start slow. Untangling this, for example,' she said, gesturing to the way he was pulling on his fingers. 'This speaks of an incident, a recent one. There is usually a trigger for seeking help in this way. That is where we would start.'_

_'What about—?' he cleared his throat. 'My friend, Lee, she takes antidepressants.'_

_'That might be an avenue we could consider, but not without a review beforehand. In the meantime, I could offer you something for the anxiety, but,' she said. 'I don't think that would be beneficial for you with your past struggles.'_

_'I agree,' he said, relieved she wasn't pushing it on him, unsure of himself in the moment._

_'That's a good first step, to recognise boundaries. Chemical intervention can be discussed a bit further down the road if you're feeling truly imbalanced, but for today, I would like to show you a few tricks.'_

_'Tricks?'_

_'To help with anxiety.' She saw his frown that time and smiled. 'Yes, no one really likes that word. It calls forth images of frail regency era women fainting and calling for smelling salts. Anxiety deregulates our nervous system, it can be utterly destructive when out of control. Think of it like trauma, because that's really what it is. You may think you don't qualify for the term, for trauma, that it's reserved for others who've experienced horror, physical or mental, but we all experience trauma. Every single one of us. A tiny incident can brand us deeply. There is no qualifying element for what has traumatised us, for what causes anxiety. I have tricks,' she said, her smile turning warm. 'You could humour me and learn them and if they work, come back in two days and I'll show you even more.'_

_Cullen nodded very slowly. 'All right.'_

_*_

_'So, it went well?'_

_'It did actually.'_

_'She has an amazing reputation and she's totally discreet with celebrities.'_

_'I'm not a celebrity.'_

_Lee did not dignify that with an answer. They sat outside McDonalds by the river Thames, eating breakfast muffins while Fenris stood by the railing, looking down at the water. It was freezing, the wind whipping around them, blisteringly cold and unforgiving but the food was warm and Cullen felt strangely hopeful._

_Fenris came and sat down with them. 'Why the fuck,' he posited in a cheerful tone. 'Do people throw trolleys in the river?'_

_Cullen chuckled, offering him the last bit of his sausage and egg muffin because Fenris had already eaten his. His friend took it and Cullen said, 'The big splash?'_

_'But then there's a trolley in the river! It's a senseless crime.'_

_'Destruction for the sake of it,' Lee said, wincing as she drank her atrocious tea in a Styrofoam cup. 'Ugh, more important question is why are there coffee places but not_ tea _places? Coffee places cannot make a good tea, I swear to God, how difficult would it be? This is_ Britain _, after all. Land of tea.'_

_'I think,' Cullen said, sandwiched firmly between them. 'I'm going to go back and see her in a couple of days. She offered three appointments a week. I liked her.'_

_'That's fantastic,' Fenris said, nudging him gently. 'And no more seeing Madeline alone from now on?'_

_Cullen nodded, exhaling shakily. 'Definitely not. Is it_ _… feasible to pay her what she wants?'_

_Lee grimaced. 'You'll have to work pretty hard. Lots of tours, club performances, arenas. It'll be a busy spring and summer.'_

_'I don't mind. If she lets me see Sophia, that's all I want, so long as I can do it without bankrupting us.'_

_His two best friends shared a brief glance before Lee smiled and Fenris deftly stole her terrible tea._

_'We can do it,' Lee assured him. 'We'll just have to conquer the music world a little ahead of schedule.'_

_*_

_Cullen met with Doctor Wynne three times a week for the first month and then twice a week after that. He paid Madeline the ridiculous sum of money she asked for and he took out a mortgage on the house she chose on the outskirts of London._

_In a fit of_ generosity _, she let him decorate Sophia's room. Cullen took his daughter to B &Q, encouraging her to choose the colours and designs. He took the whole weekend, just him and Sophia with all different kinds of paint and sparkly wall paper, pretty duvet sets and whatever else he'd been able to buy while out with her, giddy about it the whole time. Madeline didn't allow Lee or Fenris in to help, of course, so it was just the two of them while Madeline went out shopping. Sophia loved _helping _. She loved getting messy with the paint, even though she had quite an aptitude for colouring the walls with her tiny brush and pot._

_'Painting!' she declared happily. 'I like painting!'_

_'Me too, baby girl,' he said, arms aching from using the roller, wishing it could be like this always._

_On the Saturday, Madeline called to say that she wouldn't be coming home that night. He almost knocked over a whole tin of pastel pink paint offering to stay overnight with Sophia, trying not to stammer. Madeline made it seem as though she was really_ debating _before finally permitting it, conditional that he stay there_ alone _._

_With Sophia's bedroom finished - a glittering landscape of purples, pinks and turquoise blue - all the mess tidied up, he gave her a bath, plaited her hair after he towel dried it and then made dinner. Madeline didn't have much in the fridge, but Cullen was more than used to making something out of nothing. Sophia stood on a chair against the countertop, watching intently._

_'What you doing, Daddy?'_

_'Cooking,' he answered, mixing eggs, chopping a lowly pepper he'd found at the back, just about fresh. 'Do you like cooking?'_

_Wide brown eyes lifted to his. 'I help?'_

_'Yeah,' he said, handing her a fork and the bowl with a soft smile. 'Of course, sweetheart. I could really use some help. Can you stir for me?'_

_She ate dinner on his lap, watching kids TV and excitedly showing him all her favourite characters, singing along to the bits of the theme songs she knew. Cullen tried to immerse himself in the moment, enjoy the time for what it was instead of thinking how it could have been like this always, had she not been taken away._

_He tucked her into bed that night and slept on the floor beside her with a blanket and spare pillow, listening to the sound of her breathing. It was the best he'd slept for months._

_Madeline let him see Sophia roughly four out of five times they arranged. Sometimes, she would randomly cancel and Cullen knew why, was never quite stupid enough to believe her flimsy, casual excuses. He knew she was doing it to simply remind him that she could. She could cancel, she could yank Sophia from his life if she so desired and there was nothing he could do about it._

_He did his best to contain his disappointment when she did that, trying not to imagine if Sophia was disappointed too. He always hoped Madeline had not told her. It made him feel extraordinarily helpless._

_Wynne helped him combat it. She taught him mechanisms to help him deal with the worst aspects of what Madeline could inflict upon him. Taught him patience without enormous internal cost, how to breathe without feeling like he was dying, how to recognise when fear was rational and when it was inflamed by other emotions, when it was harmful._

_It helped, but life was still a struggle with Madeline in it._

_On the positive side of things, to compensate for the enormous payments Madeline requested, Cullen worked his arse off with performing, recording, publicity, writing, all of it. He got through his media training at last, staggered and delayed by real life, but Josie was pleased when he completed it._

_Now, when tabloid reporters tried to get a rise out of him, asking about his friends, about past romances, about growing up in a council house, he just smiled at people who_ weren't _asking those questions, he shook hands with the happy people. He projected success and shut out the negativity and even when faced head on, he always chose his words carefully now. Learned that speaking on instinct was usually a mistake._

_He still made mistakes in one on one interviews, they flustered him no end, but he was getting better._

_The summer was an endless stream of performances, of casual touring, of being tired and achy, of different hotel rooms and faking smiles for those who'd waited hours to see him after a long, gruelling performance._

_It was stylists and makeup artists talking him into different things. It was arguing constantly with Josie and Lee that_ no _he wasn't wearing fucking eyeliner for Christ's sake, or a thumb ring, or a shirt that was see-through._

_'It's not me,' he would say and they would sigh, bite down and answer patiently._

_'Yes, exactly. It's building a brand, a style. Think of it like a costume almost.'_

_He was drying off from the shower one night, some hotel in the midlands, when Fenris, sat on his bed eating takeout Indian food, pointed out casually that he would suit a bit of eyeliner, that_ all _men suited eyeliner and that Cullen had lovely thumbs, why not accentuate them with a plain ring?_

_Cullen was bored, so he let Fenris steal Josie's makeup while the girls were out and they spent the whole evening deviously, hilariously making each other pretty. They ended up drinking for most of the night, painting each other inexpertly with mascara, eyeliner, blush and lipstick. With glittery eyeshadow and a dozen other things they didn't quite understand._

_'I love you,' he told Fenris when he caught his breath from laughing, from drawing dark purple lipstick in a tiny heart shape on Fenris's cheek. 'Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you and I_ _…' he smiled, shaking his head. 'I love you so fucking much. You and Lee. I know you know it, but, well.' He shrugged. 'Here it is again.'_

_'I love you too,' Fenris said, tiny slur in his accent, that accent he'd picked up like a chameleon somewhere in Europe. 'I love you way too much, you don't even know.'_

_Cullen poured more wine into the pair of plastic hotel cups. 'Tell me?' he asked earnestly, tangible stress all but stripped away by the drink, so at ease and_ safe _with Fenris like this._

_Fenris laid back on the bed, resting the mug of wine atop his chest, eyes closing. 'You're in my heart, my lungs, my blood. You're the sun, remember?'_

_That made Cullen smile, even though there was sadness beneath the memory. So much sadness, should he dare to recall that time when everything had been in chaos, when his only viable options had meant tearing his heart out._

_'You're the moon, then,' he said, stroking Fenris's hair back with fingertips that tingled. 'The silvery moon over a lake at night.'_

_Fenris laughed at that, truly laughed and it was so beautiful, Cullen thought he'd do anything to earn that sound at least once a day._

_'You're so_ poetic _when drunk. Should've known you'd be a musician.'_

_'He called me songbird, you know.'_

_'Did he ask you to sing for him?'_

_'No, never.'_

_Fenris shook his head, sighed. 'Idiot.'_

_'Yeah,' Cullen agreed, but there was a lump in his throat now. 'It sucks not being enough.'_

_'You're more than enough.'_

_'Hmm,' he commented, brow rising delicately as he fought to keep the rest of him neutral even though Fenris's eyes were closed. 'Not the best track record of proving that.'_

_'You're enough,' Fenris repeated, something steely in it that time, something passionate. 'Christ, I can't wait for the day someone shows you.'_

_'You and Lee show me every day, it's not—'_

_'But you don't believe it. I want you to believe it. I want to make you_ feel _it, see you realise it, Cullen. You're so much more than most people could ever dream of being.'_

_It was definitely a good thing that Fenris kept his eyes closed because Cullen, drunk and a little bit caught up in something he didn't quite understand, was failing to keep his expression neutral, was failing to keep anything neutral._

_He felt a deep need to change the subject, but all his likely subjects were gloomy._

_'You look pretty with makeup,' he went with._

_Fenris's mouth curled. 'Everyone looks pretty with makeup.'_

_'You look beautiful, then.' He reached forward again, playing with Fenris's hair, the way Fenris played with everyone else's. Always plaiting, braiding, stroking, brushing or even washing it. 'You like hair, don't you?'_

_With a delicate snort-laugh, Fenris said, 'You're so drunk, man.'_

_Cullen leaned forward fully on his belly, propped up on his elbows beside his best friend, playing with his hair to his heart's content and there were no warning bells in his mind, nothing to suggest maybe this was wrong._

_'But you do, don't you? You've always been so good with it. How did you learn to braid? In the care homes?'_

_'I never told you?'_

_'I don't think so.'_

_Fenris made a thoughtful sound which almost belied the way he swallowed thickly before he spoke. Cullen's fingers kept gliding through the bright silvery glands, so silky and soft. Cullen wondered how good it would smell. With his eyes closed, Fenris couldn’t see how Cullen was drinking in every detail of his face; the pores of his skin, the drastic curve of his bottom lip, that built in pout. Tips of pristine white lines, verging over the bump of his chin._

_'There was a girl there who did it for the younger ones. Before she aged out, she taught me.'_

_Cullen pushed his whole hand through his best friend's hair, fingers spreading wide and Fenris's breath kind of caught in his throat, but he didn't open his eyes so it was fine, it was all OK, of course it was._

_'How old were you?'_

_'Eight.'_

_'Why didn't she teach someone else?'_

_'She didn't really_ teach _me, I just watched her do it all the time. There were other girls there, older girls but none of them wanted to do it and the little ones cried when were threatened with having it cut off unless braided.'_

_'So you did it for them?'_

_'I tried. I couldn't do it well at first and they were blamed. Two had their hair cut. I did better the next day. It was_ _…' he paused, frown combining with the tiny hitch in his voice when he said, 'It became a routine. Something nice to do at the start of the day and then at the end too, taking them out.'_

_One hand moving gently over the skin of his face, careful to avoid the main branch line beneath his chin - the one that hurt the worst - Cullen couldn't quite bring himself to realise that he was_ stroking _his best friend, that he was running his fingertips over his skin now instead of playing with his hair. Pad of his index tracing the negative space down the side of his neck, avoiding the Leylines drawn by evil men, focusing on touching only Fenris._

_'You never told me.'_

_'It's hard to remember that I left them behind, that they had no one to do their hair when I did.'_

_'They probably learned from you. Someone else probably took over.'_

_'It's hard to think of that place at all.'_

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'You're sorry for everything.'_

_'Can't help it.'_

_Cullen wasn't sure when they'd become so close. Fenris hadn't moved, was still laying there on the bed, eyes closed, hands tighter around the plastic mug, dent between his brows but otherwise he hadn't moved. It was_ Cullen _who'd moved closer. Cullen whose fingertips were making a map of safe places, drawing lines wherever there was unblemished skin. Cullen whose heart was in his throat when he spoke honestly, thoughtlessly._

_'I want to kiss you.'_

_'I know,' his friend answered softly, eyes still closed. 'I want to kiss you too.'_

_Fingertips slowed around the curve of his jaw, but did not still. His middle and index were so close to his friend's mouth._

_'We're not going to, are we?'_

_'I don't know.'_

_Cullen wasn't sure what was happening. He was drunk, no two ways about it but there was something inside him that_ ached _, that twisted and burned to be loved the way Matt had showed him was possible. Sex had been an unpleasant association for so long; something to ignore, to deny but now_ _… now it didn't feel that way. Cullen was curious and he was breathing too fast, not able to see what this might do, not able to imagine_ tomorrow _when all he wanted was to love Fenris without boundaries and be loved in return._

_'You don't know?'_

_Fenris opened his eyes, eyelashes long and dark, black framing green, searching Cullen as he carefully turned on his side, bringing them face to face, close enough to share the same breath._

_'Are you mirroring me?'_

_Cullen smiled, tried to laugh but he had no air in his lungs to do so, instead just shuddering weirdly, his shoulders moving. Fenris's gaze tracked the movement, free hand not occupied with wine, running gently over Cullen's cheek._

_'I'm always mirroring you,' Cullen said, but it was shaky now, everything was_ shaking _and he couldn't understand because it was only Fenris, only his best friend. 'Always trying to be like you.'_

_The intensity in that green gaze threatened to unmoor Cullen. 'You're too good to be anyone but yourself.'_

_Cullen had to look away, had to close his eyes then. The feel of Fenris's palm on him caused his skin to pebble in flashes all over, sensitivity sky rocketing for reasons he couldn’t understand because they’d touched a million times before, they touched one another every day but it had never felt like this._

_'I still want to kiss you.'_

_'I think,' Fenris said, stroking his face. 'If you kiss me, I won't be able to stop.'_

_Each breath came faster, shorter, made his body flood with a kind of liquid heat, interwoven with light, with the tingling anticipation of feeling something new, something wonderful, fuck the consequences, fuck the next day._

_'Maybe I don't want you to stop,' Cullen heard himself say, throat thick, voice low and utterly betrayed by the vibrating rhythm of his heart._

_'Look at me.'_

_Cullen did so, could never refuse Fenris anything and he was right there, so_ close. _Such indefinable beauty in that shade of green that Cullen was lost._

_His fingertips were still grazing the side of Fenris's jaw, trying to avoid the lines where he could, but his movements were imprecise and clumsy now, desire making him inept and Fenris made a sound, a kind of groan that caused a strange sensation in Cullen's midriff when he accidentally brushed one._

_'Sorry.’ It was becoming difficult to remember his way back to the brightly lit path of what passed for simplicity in their tangled lives. 'I'm sorry.'_

_He felt Fenris move his hand down to the centre of his chest, barrier of skin and bone, all that kept their heartbeats separate even as he shuffled a fraction closer._

_'Don't be sorry,' Fenris whispered delicately, the last word cracking a little. Fenris was never delicate, even though Cullen had often thought that his best friend had that look about him; cheekbones, chin, curve of his mouth, all angles, all delicate lines, still the most beautiful thing Cullen had ever seen but it meant_ more _then, it meant that all his beauty, all his lines, the curve of his mouth_ _… they were not art to be observed and appreciated at a distance, they were calling to him. Elements of the man he loved most in the entire world and Fenris was not delicate, no matter his fragile beauty but he sounded it then, he_ felt _it. 'I'm not something you have to regret, I promise.'_

 _The last two words made Cullen shiver and he didn't_ _… understand, not really, what was_ happening. _He thought of what Madeline would say if she saw them, of how she would sneer and cut deep with her custom cruelty, but there was nothing perverted about this, nothing wrong and Cullen half wanted to cry because Fenris was_ _…_

 _He was_ Fenris. _He was the world and he loved Cullen, he_ loved _him completely. Cullen thought of running together, of pulling Fenris by the hand as kids, laughing and breathless. Thought of how Fenris had pulled Cullen into his arms when the police explained that his parents and Mia were gone. It was Fenris who'd wrapped himself around Cullen then, made a shield from the world. Who protected him even now, guarded his body, his life, their lives._

Their _lives._

_'Lee,' he said, the name falling from his lips before he could do anything about it. He started to draw away even as he felt Fenris's newly freed hand curl around the back of his neck, mug of wine dropped carelessly on the floor where it had no doubt spilled. 'You love her.'_

_'I do,' Fenris uttered and he'd followed Cullen, half sitting up now. The hand around the back of his neck was soothing against the heat of Cullen's skin because Fenris was always slightly cool to the touch, his heart beating slower than everyone else's. 'I love her so much. That's not_ _… this isn't about her.'_

_'I'm sorry,' Cullen said again and it made him want to laugh because his default state was to be_ sorry _, to regret, to feel bad. He couldn't help it then, thinking of Leliana, of the other part of their lives, their heart and soul, counterpart who just happened to not be there then. 'We shouldn't—'_

_Fenris kissed him._

_It was the third time in his life he'd been kissed by his best friend._

_The first was when they were thirteen. Stupid boys, hands over each other's mouths as they tried not to wake Mia next door or alert Cullen's parents to the fact they'd smuggled two whole bottles of beer upstairs, both pretending they liked the bitter taste. Cullen had said that Fenris didn't know how to kiss and Fenris had snorted, assured him confidently that he_ did _and it had just_ _… sort of happened._

 _Press of lips, all slick with barley and no less enthusiastic for inexperience. Kiss that trailed into laughter at the end; nothing changed, nothing_ charged _, nothing different than Fenris telling Cullen how to jerk off, nothing different than when Cullen told Fenris he already knew he liked boys too because he felt the same. They had slipped back into being best friends and nothing had changed, but now they were adults. They were not inexperienced and they could not laugh so easily anymore. Laughter was hard won and love even more so._

 _The world had tried to tear them apart, it had come for them like a vengeful monster pursuing a hero; series of events that had to be survived over and over again, but they were_ there _, they were_ alive _and when Fenris kissed him, Cullen was overcome._

_He surged against him, moved into his body as much as he dared, shifting the angle to kiss him better, but not deeper, nothing but lips pressed to lips, moving and grazing. Fenris's fingers pushed up into his hair around the back and Cullen could not quantify what was happening inside him, could barely contain it._

_They were best friends. Knew each other_ better _than anyone barring Lee, were closer than anyone so it made sense that Fenris knew exactly how to kiss Cullen, that Cullen knew how to hold Fenris without causing him pain, though not the way Lee could. Not her intrinsic navigation of those lines that still hurt to be touched sometimes, but he still_ knew _Fenris. When he brushed his tongue against Fenris's, tasting lipstick and wine, his friend moaned softly and parted his lips._

 _There was the hook; gripping sensation in his chest that demanded_ more _, sweetly pleading for proximity as they made a mess of awkwardly applied makeup, revelling in it._

 _His back hit the bed with a soft thump and Fenris was atop him, hands around his wrists the way Cullen had told him Matt had done, had made him feel safe. It cracked something inside Cullen that Fenris loved him enough to want to give him that, to do it his way even if his way was fucked up and not_ normal _, not what he'd had with Lee before a borrowed knife had come between them._

_When Fenris pulled his t-shirt off, there was nothing between them anymore. No hand, no fabric and that press of skin to skin felt almost indecent. Everything was exaggerated; every touch had them shuddering and groaning, every fresh kiss made Cullen lightheaded. Sensation not unlike falling, so dizzying and new that it didn't matter what awaited them when gravity came calling._

_His best friend cupped his cheek, held their faces apart and Cullen opened his eyes, met with stunning green. Fenris was looking at him,_ really _looking at him, studying and searching, something_ imploring _in his dark rimmed gaze. Cullen could feel his friend's desire, could feel it pressed against his own, part of Fenris he'd seen the least but of course he'd_ seen _it, how many times had they changed in front of one another?_

Not like this, not like this, _his heart pounded._

_'I want to make you happy,' Fenris breathed and he sounded so young, so young it made Cullen burn with a dazing sense of nostalgia, made him yearn in ways he never normally permitted himself. 'I want you to know what it feels like.'_

_Cullen blinked through the daze, trying to control himself enough to speak. 'I want the same,' he said, painfully honest. 'Want to make you so_ _… so_ happy _, Fen, God, I just want—'_

_Fenris kissed him again, softer that time, sweeter somehow. 'I don't know if this is right.'_

_Fenris always knew what was right, what was wrong. Finely, sharply honed instincts giving him precision and guidance where others failed. He was Cullen's true North._

_Above him, pressed against him, lips still touching his, Cullen could feel his childhood best friend, the ghost of him in many respects, boy that he'd once been before he'd been snatched and altered. Before adult life had smacked them around, thickened their skin, bruised and scarred them, all the while trying to teach them that love_ hurt _._

_That love meant shedding your armour and hoping the other person was not holding a knife._

_'I love you.’_

_In a soft, breathless moan, Fenris uttered, ‘I love_ you _,’ claiming his mouth anew._

 _And it was so_ tangled _, so messy, the truth of it. There was a whole other person in the world who was not in the room and could never be in the room, not in this way and it made everything so complicated, but it didn't feel complicated when Fenris ground against him, locking their mouths together. Cullen's eyes rolled back for a moment, the feeling beyond comprehension, amplified by the_ love _inside him. Thick, thundering love ran through him like a river and Cullen didn't know where it led, did not know if it was right either, but he couldn't stop, could not get free of the current._

_'Even if it's_ _… not right, I'll love you anyway,' he promised Fenris, heart twisting because that too, was painfully true._

_The words drew another strange sound from his friend and everything between them was contracting, pulling tighter, bringing them closer even though it really wasn't possible because they were plastered together. Cullen kept thinking how if they stopped now, it would be salvageable. That they could blame the wine, talk of how hard things were sometimes._

_If they stopped_ now _even, as Fenris adjusted his grip to hold Cullen's wrists with one hand, the other venturing down, trembling and uncertain, bodies shaking, breath coming wild and shallow._

_If they stopped now, except stopping wasn't possible, it just wasn't._

_Cullen had never been self-conscious around his friends. His parents had told him as a boy that he shouldn't change in front of Lee, but she'd just laughed when he offered to turn away or asked the same of her. His parents had not known he was bisexual, had never warned him to turn away from Fenris. That talk had been coming, he'd just never felt the_ need _to tell them. Maybe they'd always known, maybe they hadn't, but he had never, not one day in his life, felt self-conscious about his body in front of Fenris. Not when he'd been bigger, not when he'd shed weight, not even when he had track marks._

_'I love you,' Fenris told him, mouths together as he worked Cullen's pants down, as he did what he could to keep Cullen restrained even though Fenris was smaller, he was the small one really, not Cullen. The thought was wiped from his mind when they were suddenly pressed together fully. Strangely surprising touch, hard flesh rubbing and grinding and Cullen couldn't quite wrap his mind around it, was still a bit drunk, still a bit astonished that this was even happening, but it felt good._

_It felt so good he could hardly bear it, made tears spring to his eyes because there was so much waiting for them outside that hotel room, but inside he was safe, he was lightweight and loved._

_'I love you, Fen,' he panted, movement not as restricted as Matt would have made it, but he realised he didn't_ need _it to be, not with Fenris. Fenris was strong, he was stronger than Cullen. He tugged at the hand holding his wrists and Fenris's eyes flew open, searching once more. 'It's OK,' he whispered, kissing him when he got his hands free, holding Fenris's face. 'It's OK.'_

 _They held one another like lovers, then. Fenris atop him, guiding their clumsy movements, but the kiss was anything but clumsy and really, everything else except the kiss sort of_ faded _from Cullen's mind. He smiled, even as he cried against Fenris's lips, too much_ happening _within to be understood, to be compartmentalised. Body needing release in safety, in love, mind swimming with warnings and yearnings, with memories and the overpowering need to make his friend feel good, to make him feel safe and happy, to show him he could have all this with someone else, someone far better because it had been an accident, a fucking_ accident _and oh_ _… oh God…_

 _It took him by surprise, that he was coming. Delayed realisation that they were actually having some kind of sex instead of just hugging like they always did. A different way of holding that didn't feel_ that _different, truth be told, or maybe Cullen was just really, really drunk; drunk on love, on his friend, on the blissed out, bittersweet feeling of cradling that beautiful face and showing him how_ perfect _he was, how precious, how loved, how_ good _._

_It did not feel indecent or obscene when his friend went rigid, when their kiss stuttered and he felt warm, wetness between their bodies. He kissed Fenris softer, deeper, slower as they panted, as they relaxed and they were both crying, third time he'd ever seen his best friend cry except now he was tasting it, salt on his tongue and stickiness mingled against sweat slick skin around their navels, alcohol in their blood and too much love to be borne._

_He stroked Fenris's hair with trembling hands, kissed his cheeks and said he loved him over and over, voice hoarse and heavy with things he could not say. Fenris pressed his face into Cullen’s neck, exhaling shakily._

_'Love you always,' he felt the smaller man say._

_It was exquisitely sad. They didn't dissolve into exhausted laughter because they weren't the bulletproof kids they'd once been. Cullen had been made a man by a cruel woman and Fenris by a perfect one, both out of reach now, for better or worse._

_'Don't be sorry,' Fenris said after a while, pushing up enough for Cullen to see tear tracks in his smudged mascara, all their silliness and easy intimacy now a visible mess but Cullen didn't really see that, he just saw his friend._

_'I'm not.'_

_'Promise?'_

_Cullen tried to smile, but he couldn't quite manage it under the weight of everything. He pushed Fenris's hair back and kissed him for the last time, knowing that it would_ be _the last time. 'I promise.'_

_When Fenris drew back, Cullen saw grief there that had precious little to do with the mess they'd made. He was looking down between their bodies, staring with almost childlike confusion at Cullen's abdomen. Their spend was cooling on Cullen's skin but that wasn't what held Fenris’s attention._

_No scars, no lines._

_Just skin, just Cullen._

_He couldn't think of what to say when his best friend sat back on his haunches, drawing in a shuddering, serrated breath and covering his eyes with his forearm._

_'I can't make myself look at it,' he told Cullen, voice barely there and Cullen knew who he'd meant because they were_ best _friends, they always had been. He sat up slow and careful, keeping space between them because Fenris had moved back, but he linked their free hands. 'What I did to her, I can't bear to see it or feel it, I just—'_

_'It's all right,' Cullen promised him. 'I know.'_

_'She's so angry at me still and of course she is, but_ _… but not for that. She's angry because I can't love her that way now. I don't want her to feel like I'm punishing her, but that's how it would feel, right?'_

_He let his arm fall from his eyes, and Cullen saw the last traces of alcohol widening his pupils, but otherwise Fenris was himself. He was Fenris of the now, Fenris who had stabbed the woman he loved. Who had nightmares of things that Cullen and Lee rarely talked about, such was the horror. Fenris whose skin was marked with white tattoos that glowed under UV light and each line meant something Cullen tried not to think of. Fenris who was a trained killer, who would do anything to protect those he loved_ _… even if that meant breaking hearts._

_'I guess so,' Cullen said quietly, wishing he could say more, could offer more comfort than skin and kissing and honesty spoken softly. 'But she loves you, we both do.'_

_Fenris nodded, throat bobbing and he ran his hand over Cullen's abdomen almost absently, staring down. 'It could have been you,' he said. 'We always slept in the same bed.'_

_'It was an accident.'_

_'I don't even remember the dream. Don't even know what caused it.'_

_Cullen hesitated, knowing that Lee would warn him against what he was about to offer, but unable to do more than delay it._

_'I could tell you things.'_

_Fenris grimaced. 'No,' he uttered. 'I can't. If a single nightmare did that_ _… what would two years’ worth turn me into?'_

_'You're still_ you. _Nothing could ever change that.'_

_So low, Cullen could barely hear it, Fenris said, 'Promise?'_

_'I promise.’ He gave in, wrapping Fenris in his arms, drawing him close, his turn to be the shield. He kissed his hair, swallowing his own grief and shouldering what he could of his friend's. 'I_ promise _.'_

_*_

_They showered, changed into comfy clothes and slept in the same bed. In the morning, Cullen made tea and they sat together in contemplative quiet._

_'Were OK?' Cullen asked eventually._

_'Of course,' Fenris said, green eyes steady as ever. 'Unless you feel different?'_

_'I don't think I do,' Cullen said slowly, honestly. 'Is that_ _… bad?'_

_Fenris got that_ look _he did sometimes when he was angry about Madeline's general existence. 'Nothing you feel would ever be bad. We can talk about it if you like?'_

_Cullen shrugged. 'Do we need to?'_

_Fenris half smiled, something wry and kind in it. 'I love you too much,' he said as if that was all he needed to say. 'And you love me too much.'_

_'That's true,' Cullen laughed and then it softened. 'I just wanted to make you happy.'_

_'I wanted the same.'_

_It went unsaid that while they'd made one another feel_ good _, they had not made each other_ happy _, at least not in that mythical, long sought-after_ way _._

_'I'm sorry I couldn't make you small,' Fenris said after a few beats._

_Cullen nodded. 'I'm sorry I can't be between you and her in that way. I would if I could.'_

_'Don't be sorry.'_

_'You said it first that time.'_

_Fenris looked up at him then, gentle smile reaching his green depths as the moments drew on. 'The girls were right, by the way.'_

_'What about?'_

_'Little bit of eyeliner, it suited you.'_

_*_

_They didn't tell Leliana because she knew it right away, maybe knew it before she even walked into the room. Cullen felt ashamed for anticipating backlash when he_ knew _there would be none, but it was still irrationally scary, the idea of hurting her, of making her feel excluded somehow._

_'Morning,' she greeted them warmly, gaze lingering a second longer on Fenris than Cullen. 'You slept well.'_

_Fenris said, 'Shall we talk?'_

_'Not unless you want to. We have a busy day, busy six months actually.'_

_Cullen blurted out, 'You're not mad?'_

_Lee sighed. 'Actually, I am.'_

_Oh God, no. He'd messed up, this was all his_ fault _, why, why had he done that? Come between them and—_

_'Josie blamed me for losing her makeup,' she said easily, nodding at the sideboard where it sat, tidied by Cullen this morning. 'You could have left a note, at least.'_

_'It was spur of the moment,' Fenris said, sitting on the bed to tie his shoes._

_Lee looked away and smiled to herself. 'I'm thrilled you had fun for once. Plenty of it to be had in the world, I assure you.'_

_'It won't happen again,' Cullen said quietly, still unable to shake his fears._

_Fenris shook his head, chuckling softly. 'He can't handle the metaphor, Lee.'_

_'It was for_ his _delicate sensibilities!' Lee mock-complained, but then came over to him, hugged him and kissed his cheek before holding his gaze. 'It's fine,' she told him and he could feel that she meant it. 'It's beautiful and fine and changes nothing.'_

_Cullen swallowed hard and nodded. 'OK.'_

_They hugged again and when Fenris joined the hug, only then did the last of Cullen's unnecessary fears dissipate entirely._

_*_

_Spring was a freight train of non-stop work; clusters of performances before a long, hard summer tour that lasted two months and went all over Europe. Thom Rainier came along, was pleased to become part of their security team and Fenris hired a couple of additional people. Josie and Lee worked together constantly except for the one weekend every month when Josie would go off somewhere, be alone, take a breather._

_Cullen finished writing his third album, finished polishing each of the songs, even the two he'd added which were undeniably about Matt, though heavily redacted to maintain his anonymity._

_He earned enough money to pay Madeline without affecting them or their ability to generate income like they had been before. Leliana hired a financial consultant, a man who came highly recommended by her friend Morrigan, and he showed her all kinds of new ways to make money_ with _money._

_Fenris worked on training Thom and the others, on establishing patterns and routines that Cullen could live with to keep him safe. They never kissed again, never touched like that, but their love did not seem to wane, was not made to wane and Cullen was so grateful for them, for every single person in his life who loved him._

_While on tour, he had Zoom sessions with Doctor Wynne, twice a week still and her help was invaluable to him through those long, gruelling months._

_In the spring, he'd seen Sophia with some degree of regularity, but summer had made it almost impossible. Madeline was playing nice for the time being, regular money in her account, new house and plenty of credit cards to play with, she was happy to bring Sophia to meet him for the odd day when he was in the country, even let him have her for the weekend once while she went off to a spa._

_That weekend was the_ best _of the entire year because Madeline had not explicitly forbidden him from bringing Lee and Fenris along. He took Sophia to his place, Fenris and Lee fussing over and playing with her endlessly. They packed as much into that one weekend as humanly possible, but Cullen still cried in the car when they dropped her off, Madeline coolly eyeing Lee, mostly ignoring Fenris, but making no complaint that they'd clearly been with Sophia and Cullen the whole time._

_Sometimes Rosalie would meet up with him in Europe. Sometimes they were in the same country by coincidence which would always make him laugh. His younger sister spoke four languages by now and could converse with both Lee and Fenris fluently in Italian and French while Cullen still struggled with when to use who and whom in English, but he bore her no ill will, no measure of jealousy. He marvelled at her tattoos, praised each pretty design and sighed happily just to hold her, to listen to her darling laugh as Fenris braided her hair and Josie took selfies with her, Lee and Cullen in the kitchen of the hotel, cooking together._

_He'd tried to call Bran a few times but there was never any answer. Rosalie frowned whenever she spoke of their brother, but assured Cullen he was physically OK, just messed up still._

_Cullen saw Dorian from afar twice, but didn't have the balls to go up to him and say hi like a normal person. Sometimes they would be in the same circle, albeit a_ big _circle, but Dorian's gaze rarely lifted and Cullen knew why, had seen the way other singers of Harry's ilk tended to treat him. Reach for him, grab him, pull at his hands and_ grope _him like it was funny while Hardiss would permit it at first then jokingly yank him back._

 _Cullen hated it, hated that he couldn't_ do _anything and he hated that people_ noticed _he hated it, all but Dorian, whose downward gaze lifted for nothing except the sound of his boyfriend's voice._

_'Still think he's pretty, huh?' Harry would leer while Cullen stood patiently on stage, sound-check delayed once again by a lost cable, Dorian off somewhere helping Krem to look for it._

_'Who?' Cullen asked blandly._

_'You want a turn with him, we can negotiate.'_

_'Move aside,' Fenris would usually say, appearing out of nowhere to rescue Cullen before he did something bad. 'Clear the area please.'_

_Cullen both loved and hated when his path would cross with the rock circuit, but a varied playlist was common with summer festivals._

_There was one terrible day branded into him, one day at the end of summer when they were performing their last in Sweden when Dorian had a bruise on his jaw. Cullen couldn't look away, couldn't make himself turn and pretend to be busy backstage. Dorian was coming out of the bathroom, tips of his hair wet from where he'd splashed water on his face and he caught Cullen staring. He frowned deeply, instantly wary._

_'Yeah?'_

_Cullen shook himself, but could not look away from the bruise._

_Dorian's gaze hardened. 'Watch out for drunk roadies carrying cable boxes,' he warned in a deceptively light tone, walking away without another word._

_It was hard not to obsess about it, to imagine all the ways in which he could_ intervene _._

_'You need a fun night out,' Lee told him as his birthday drew near and they returned to the UK._

_'What I_ need _,' he groused while even Fenris stifled a yawn. 'Is to sleep for a week.'_

_'If I let you sleep for a week, will you let us take you out for dinner?'_

*

_Cullen was already suspicious when the weekend_ after _his birthday came and Lee made him dress especially nice to go out to a simple restaurant with her and Fenris._

_'Fenris isn't dressed fancy,' he pointed out when they got out of the car._

_'Fenris is_ never _dressed fancy,' she sniffed. 'Now shut up and have fun, said with love.'_

_She checked her phone for the time and that alone gave Cullen a deep burst of suspicion because Lee never worried about reservations, they always had wiggle room, no matter how nice the place._

_Inside, they headed right for the bar. It was full, even for a Saturday and Cullen immediately wished they were just staying in for the night, home cooked food and movies. Tomorrow he was seeing Sophia all day so he clung hard to that and told himself to sack up._

_Lee ordered drinks for all of them; a round of Martinis which Cullen quite liked, especially the cliched little olive. He politely ignored the looks he was getting and leaned against the bar._

_'Well,' he said bracingly. 'This is fun.'_

_Lee seemed smug, slanting an eyebrow and Fenris shared a look with Cullen, the pair wondering what she was up to._

_She checked her phone again. 'Ah, let's go over there.'_

_'Over where? Why?'_

_But she was already on her way over to a somewhat quieter corner of the bar, headed with worrying_ intent _towards someone._

_'Hi,' she said, offering her hand. 'Alistair?'_

_The man - mid-twenties, well built, tall, red hair two shades lighter than Lee's and dressed like he was auditioning for the next Bond film - offered his hand with a bright, wide smile._

_'That's me! You are_ _… Leliana, perhaps?'_

_'Yes,' she answered, shaking hands, her gaze moving over him in a way that had Fenris sighing beside Cullen. 'These are my friends. Fenris and Cullen,' she said, gesturing to each of them, respectively._

_Alistair's excited gaze latched onto Cullen._

_'Cullen,' he said, holding out his hand, everything about him relaxed but yet highly charged, like the cool kid at a party who'd had way too much sugar. 'Great to meet you.'_

_Cullen glared at Lee. 'Really?'_

_She was still far too smug to care about his displeasure. Cullen shook Alistair's hand, polite smile in place for the other man before he moved onto Fenris._

_'Unusual name,' he commented with the same wide smile. Fenris eyed him unsubtly, for completely different reasons than Leliana and eventually shook his hand for a brief second._

_'Big fan of dead languages,' he commented dryly._

_Alistair laughed, turning his attention back to Cullen, who groaned internally, cheeks flushing slightly._

_'So!' the red head chirped. 'Tell me all about you! I've heard wonderful things and now I've_ seen _wonderful things,' he added, letting his brown eyes wander up Cullen's body, deliberately salacious. 'Which has me just_ dying _to know more, big guy.'_

 _Even Lee winced at that. 'Maybe dial it back a little,' she advised under her breath and Cullen finally found his voice to say that he was_ not _interested in being set up in this way, thanks ever so much, except that Alistair gestured pointedly at Cullen before he spoke and Cullen had been about to gesture at Lee which meant his Martini was knocked from his hand, spilling the drink, glass and all, on Alistair's shoes._

_Fenris laughed openly while Alistair fretted about the shoes, expensive ones apparently, and Lee guided him away to the bathroom, leaving Cullen red cheeked and embarrassed._

_'The fuck,' he huffed as he put the empty, wet glass back on the bar with a clatter. 'Is Lee doing setting me up with an escort?’_

_'Sex worker,' Fenris corrected mildly. 'And I think she wanted you to have fun.’_

_'I'm so embarrassed.'_

_'Because of the shoes, or_ _…?'_

_'I mean,_ both! _Obviously both! Christ.'_

_'Calm down. It was a nice gesture. When he comes back out, you can have a drink and politely say you have an early morning tomorrow. He'll get paid the same regardless. Hi, can we get two beers please?'_

_Another round of beers later and both Cullen and Fenris was staring expectantly at the bathroom door, awaiting the emergence of their friend and the charming_ sex worker _. Neither of which were forthcoming._

_Eventually, Fenris heaved a sigh. 'For God's sake, go check, will you?'_

_'Why me?'_

_'You probably won't want to murder him if they're doing what I think they are,' Fenris muttered darkly._

_Cullen knocked lightly against the door of the disabled bathroom. There was a suspicious amount of silence inside the locked enclosure._

_'Just checking you guys are OK?'_

_'All good,' he heard Alistair call out, even as Lee giggled. 'But you owe me a new pair of shoes!'_

_'We're fine, Cullen,' Lee said and that time there was no denying the sounds of kissing, the slightly breathless tone of her voice. 'Be out in five.'_

_'Be out in_ twenty _, you bad girl,' Alistair corrected and she started giggling again. Cullen grimaced and sighed, unable to suppress the part of him that was happy Lee was having fun, even as he trudged back to his best friend, carrying the news in the crease of his eyes._

_*_

_After that, Leliana sometimes hired men in Alistair's vocation. She would hire them for the night to attend as someone on her arm for functions, but she would also hire them when she had a free weekend here and there._

_At first, Cullen couldn't help but feel bad for Fenris. There was a part of it, the whole thing, that he felt was done on_ purpose _to hurt Fenris, to provoke him almost and it was hard being in the middle of them, seeing both sides of something so complicated. But after a while, he began to see that Fenris was_ _… pleased, for lack of a better word._

_Leliana became less hostile towards Fenris as the months passed, as she spent time with men who she could pay and politely dismiss afterwards. Sex was important for Lee and maybe Cullen couldn't understand that, but he understood her and so did Fenris._

_'If it makes her happy,' Fenris said one night, after they went their separate ways, Fenris and Cullen back to his flat, Lee and her date off to her place in Kensington. 'Then I'm glad of it.'_

_If they all stayed in one place for the night, Lee with one of her men, sometimes she would come down in the mornings and take Fenris's face gently in her hands, kiss him and mutter good morning, before making tea._

_They didn't seem to need to talk about it much after that, or so Cullen observed. He spent his autumn preparing for the release of the album, doing promotional work; interviews, photoshoots, magazine covers, radio shows, YouTube live chats, all kinds of things that required him to lean heavily on what he'd learnt from the Josie crash course and Izzy's_ amazing tips _, as Fenris had put it._

_He saw Sophia with some degree of regularity, enjoyed his time with her most of all, especially when it was the four of them. She was an astonishing little thing, she truly was. Her affection for him was boundless and it nurtured him like he didn't even know he needed._

_Madeline still caused trouble. Sometimes she wanted more money, sometimes she had a ridiculous request and they had to work to convince her otherwise, had to tread carefully, but Lee was becoming impatient with her and Cullen knew it._

_In November, Cullen had Sophia for the day with Lee, Fenris off to visit his friend Anders who was in town for the weekend._

_It had been a prickly start to the day; another demand from Madeline (to change Sophia's name to something new) that had to be talked down. Lee did not like any mention of Anders which meant she and Fenris had parted on frosty terms when he'd gone to see his friend._

_And when someone knocked on the door, Cullen was_ so _expecting it to be Fenris, cutting his time short with Anders to come back and be with them, that when he saw his younger brother standing there, he couldn't contain his surprise._

_*_

_Leliana took Sophia for a walk, bundled up to protect against the chilly November winds and Cullen waited awkwardly for Bran to say what he'd come to say._

_For a while, they were silent, both staring down, standing around warily in the place where not one year ago, they'd been having Christmas dinner together. Bran had still been married then._

_'I waited for you,' the younger Rutherford said after a while. He sounded tired, no anger in him for once. 'I waited to see if you'd come and you didn't.' He looked up, the exhaustion plain, but beneath it there was a deep well of sorrow that Cullen could not fathom. 'You really don't care, do you?'_

_Too many reassurances and denials wanted to come spilling out at once, everything getting stuck but Cullen uncrossed his arms, moving closer. 'I—Bran, of course I—how can you even—?'_

_'Imagine if it was Fenris,' Bran said, the accusation soft and yet solidly confident. 'You'd never be able to stay away, would you? He's more your brother than I ever was.'_

_'That's_ not _true, I promise.'_

_'You never come to me.'_

_'I—you never seem to_ _…_ want _me there.'_

_'Rosalie gets to be a part of your life, you make time for her.' He looked down, hands in his pockets of a cheap old jacket that Cullen had never seen before. He took a deep breath and said, 'You were a great guardian but you could have been a better brother.'_

_Cullen blinked, letting that sink in, what Bran was saying. He knew it was true, no way to deny that his compass swung whichever direction Lee and Fenris were going, but it still hurt to hear it. His friends worked so hard to convince him he'd done a good job with his younger brother and sister that sometimes he'd actually believed it._

_'I'm sorry,' he said, at a loss._

_'It's OK,' Bran said. 'I don't blame you for what I did. I know it was my fault. I had a great thing with Cass, with_ _… with Danny, my whole life was fine. I shouldn't have fucked it up. That's not on you, but…' he looked up. 'Cullen, you never came to see me. Fenris came, Lee and Rosalie came, but you never did. Do you really hate me that much?'_

_'I don't hate you at_ all. _I—Bran, I love you so much, but_ _… come on, things between us aren't great and I always seem to make it worse.'_

_Bran shrugged. 'You could have tried.'_

_'I did. I should, I will, if that's what you want. I_ _…' he took a deep breath, trying to fight through the need to just apologise over and over, trying to find something real. 'I wasn't the big brother,' he said eventually and Bran looked over, frowning. 'I wasn't born the big brother. You and me, we were the middle kids. Mia was the older sister and I know it sounds so flimsy, but… when she died I just wasn't ready. I wasn't. To lose Mum and Dad_ and _her, to become the big brother overnight and I wasn't prepared. I'd never had to_ worry _about you and Rosie like that because Mia_ _… she did everything. She loved us and cared about us in all the ways the eldest knows how to and I wasn't ready. I miss her everyday still. I think about how she would have protected me from Madeline, how she would have kicked her fucking arse.' He spared a moment to laugh, even as tears filled his eyes. 'Remember when Amelia Martin bullied Rosalie?'_

 _Bran uttered a breathy laugh then too, despite himself. 'She threatened to break the bitch's arm, dragged her back to her parents and told them they'd been_ warned _.'_

 _Cullen bit his bottom lip as their weak laughter tapered off. 'I want to be honest because I_ know _I could have done better by you and Rosalie.' He took a step closer. 'You, especially. You needed me and I let you down, left you alone and trusted you to be grown up long before you should have been. I brought chaos into our lives.'_

_'You put food on the table and you kept us together,' Bran said, throat thick, jaw working. 'I don't know if I could have done the same.'_

_'You'd have done a better job, probably, but you shouldn't have to think like that. Bran, I'm so sorry. I am. I love you so much. I_ miss _you all the time and I_ _… hate that I've let space grow between us. That I didn't do enough. I'm sorry for what I didn't do, for what I could have done better.'_

_Bran squeezed his eyes shut. 'What about now, Cullen?'_

_'I'm not a mind reader. I tried calling, I had the others keep an eye on you, to see if you needed anything.'_

_'Yeah, I saw that you paid off the house too,' the shorter man said dispassionately. 'Much appreciated. But you didn't_ come _to me. You never do. I'm never the one you trust, never the one you tell anything to. I shouldn't have married Cass so young, but part of me was just desperate to have a family, a real family of my own that couldn't exclude me.' He shook his head. 'I_ need _you, man. I need my brother and you're_ _… you're never there! Yeah, I fucked up, I made a mistake, but how many times have you done that?'_

_'A lot.'_

_'Yeah, exactly, a lot! But you're not left alone, are you?'_

_'I should have done more.'_

_'It's not about what you should have_ done _,' Bran said. 'It's about_ _… this.'_

_He gestured between them and Cullen was sad to understand what he meant._

_'We're not close. We never were, but I'm still your brother as much as Rosalie is our sister and I_ need _you, Cullen.'_

_Wiping his eyes, Cullen took a deep breath. 'I'm here for whatever you need.'_

_Bran seemed doubtful. 'I_ _… fuck, I don't even know what I need.'_

_'Why don't we start with a tea?'_

_*_

_The first time they stayed in the small house by the sea, gentle scent of the Mediterranean all around mingling with the fresh paint, Cullen felt truly at peace for the first time in a very long time. There was just something_ about _it, something about the place. The sounds, or lack thereof._

 _Cullen had not had the time to go there during the summer, but Lee had gone a few times to oversee construction of the tiny house, not more than a one roomed bungalow for the time being. She'd told them that it was beautiful in the summer and he believed her because even in winter, even in late November it was lovely. The view of the ocean, stretching out like a great band of liquid steel beneath the grey skies. He slept better there, he_ felt _better so far from people who knew his name, who chased him for pictures in the street._

_'What will you do with this?' Fenris asked when Lee paused after talking about infinity pools and great, glass constructions, a kitchen so big that they could all cook together, a veranda and all the flowers they could grow over it._

_'Oh, this?' she said, looking around. 'Maybe a summer house.'_

_Cullen was relieved she wasn't just going to bulldoze it. He quite liked the tiny construct, it made him feel safe._

_'We begin construction in January,' she said, tangibly excited. 'Our hideaway, our castle.'_

_Fenris smiled, dropped a kiss on her shoulder, his arm about her waist. 'We should build a small dock down there, don't you think?'_

_'For boats? That's a good idea.'_

_Cullen smiled down at his hands, sat on a very comfortable chair._

_'Remember when we used to shoplift meat?'_

_Fond smile in place, Lee glanced at Fenris and said, 'You were best at it. You'd wear one of Cullen's coats and stuff it underneath.'_

_Fenris half rolled his eyes. 'Only sometimes.'_

_Cullen nodded. 'Only sometimes. Lee would flirt with the security guard and we’d walk out, hoping nothing was tagged.'_

_'Remember when it went off and we ran?' Fenris laughed._

_'And you dropped everything? Oh my God, that was a clusterfuck.'_

_Cullen chuckled but the memory had turned sour in his mouth, recalling the bitter sting of failure that awful day. So many bad days that they never stopped to cry over, couldn't stop, had to keep going._

_'Now we're talking about infinity pools.'_

_Lee dropped down on the arm of the plush chair, half hugging him. 'We deserve nice things and even if we didn't, I'm going to see we get them anyway because I love you two most in the world, so there.'_

_Cullen leaned against her, listening to the sound of the sea._

_'Maybe we could do something to help people, though.'_

_'Like what?'_

_'I don't know. Like, a charity?'_

_'We donate to charities.'_

_'No, like_ _… maybe we could start one.'_

_Fenris sat at the foot of the chair, one arm resting across Cullen's knee. 'Like what? The Codanford Charity for Luckless Waifs and Strays?'_

_Cullen looked down, smirking despite his mild melancholy. 'You came up with that portmanteau really quickly.'_

_'It's an_ atrocious _portmanteau,' Lee complained. 'Why is my glorious surname buried beneath your two? What about_ _… Mor-ther-hen?'_

 _Fenris burst out laughing. 'That's basically_ mother hen _, you realise?'_

 _'Right, well it's hardly my fault that_ your _surname is total crap when constructing clever portmanteau's is it? Cullen's name is decent, at least. It's got_ Ford _in it.'_

_'Mordant sounds like a spell from Harry Potter.'_

_'And that's meant to be an insult?'_

_Cullen couldn't help but enjoy their easy back and forth as it lovingly escalated, mostly because there was no true vitriol beneath it. Fenris and Leliana had always loved teasing one another, insulting each other and this variation, playfully ripping apart one another's surnames, reminded him of simpler times._

_He sat and let his eyes fall shut, smile in place, wondering if he would ever feel happier in this tiny house than he did just then._

_*_

_The album dropped two weeks before Christmas and it went to number one. To say that Cullen was astonished would be a gross understatement. He kept asking Lee what that_ meant _, what the numbers were, if there was a mistake and she explained, time after time, what it meant, that people loved it, loved him._

_Christmas day was a great big noisy thing with Rosalie and her sometimes boyfriend Lukas who spoke perfect English with a lovely undertone of German affecting his accent. Bran came alone as Cassie and Danny were spending it with her friends that year._

_Despite discussing it in therapy, despite trying his best, despite actually_ seeing _each other, there remained a wedge of distance between Cullen and Branson which neither comedy nor conversation could traverse. Cullen couldn't help but feel awkward around him and for Bran it was clearly the same, but both made such effort that Cullen hoped it wasn't_ horribly _obvious. Bran was mostly quiet, his first Christmas in five years without his son Danny and even though he would be seeing him tomorrow for Boxing Day, it must have been difficult._

 _Madeline's generosity peaked around that time and she let Sophia spend Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Cullen, making it the longest span of time Sophia had been allowed to stay with him and the others. Madeline said she would be somewhere in Europe with her new boyfriend and Cullen wished he didn't still feel_ relieved _at the mention of another man, taking the focus off of him._

_He went stupidly overboard with presents, even Fenris admonishing him for how many gifts there were for Sophia under the huge, messily decorated tree, sprayed with fake snow and laden with tinsel and rainbow baubles._

_Cullen didn't care. Told his friends she could leave half of the presents there so Madeline wouldn't be too angry that he'd essentially filled an entire_ room _with toys and clothes, with Princess outfits and superhero costumes because Sophia loved to dress up._

_Josie came and brought three of her sisters, all of whom reminded Cullen of Josie in various stages at her life, they all looked so similar._

_'You have four sisters, right?' he asked her while stirring cranberry sauce. 'The other one busy?'_

_Josie, whose outfit consisted of a silky pyjama top tucked into skinny jeans with a pair of Cullen's fluffy knee highs over them, sighed sadly, tucking her hair behind her ear. 'Adelyn, yes. She and I do not speak very often.'_

_Cullen stilled his movement, lips parting. 'Oh, I'm so sorry.'_

_Josie shot him a look, smiling wryly. 'Cullen,' she said. 'Don't be silly. You're not to know, are you? Adelyn is the oldest and she_ _… is less accepting of who I am. She still calls me by my birth name, Joe. Still refers to me as her brother. It makes things difficult. I don't want to be a source of discomfort for her,' she said, looking down with a delicate frown. 'I embarrass her.'_

_Cullen put his hand atop hers, clasped together. 'That's not on you.'_

_'It feels like it, though. Just because I have all the justification in the world and a good portion of that world to back me up, does not mean I don’t feel bad for hurting her. She is not cruel to me, we are simply not close.'_

_Cullen's gaze flicked to Bran, sat on the sofa, intensely focused on his phone, and away again, guilt stinging in his stomach. 'Yeah, I sort of get that.'_

_'My other sisters,' she added, brightening. 'Have always been wonderfully kind and supportive. They first showed me how to put on makeup when I was a lowly teenager.' She sighed, pouring herself a glass of wine. 'I always loved makeup, still do. No easier way to shapeshift. Not to mention how fun it is to apply.'_

_'I feel like this conversation just took a turn,' he pointed out lightly, teasingly because they knew each other well enough by that point to know when Josie was about to broach something._

_'Lee didn't tell me,' she said easily, clever mouth and watchful gaze tinted with a pretty smile. 'But it was, forgive me, rather obvious all the same. It's not serious?'_

_'No,' he said, feeling his way around the question. 'Not like that.'_

_'Fair enough. She was pleased, you know. I didn't expect that. I thought she might be jealous or even resentful, but she was pleased. You're a strange little triangle, aren't you?'_

_Cullen pretended outrage, hand on heart. 'Cut me to my core, Montilyet! Your implications leave me bleeding.'_

_She laughed easily, sipping her wine. In the living room area, her sisters were showing everyone a game with an app on their phone that had everyone yelling loudly over each other, Sophia sat on Leliana's lap, clapping at the commotion._

_'Don't get me wrong, I love strange things. I love complicated relationships, at least from afar. I just hope that one day, you'll find someone for yourself, Cullen.'_

_'I hope so too, but even if it doesn't happen,' he sighed. 'This is more than enough.'_

_*_

_'What are you thinking about today?'_

_Cullen, who'd been staring out of the windows, looked back at Wynne, frowned pensively. 'I suppose_ _… relationships.'_

_'You think about relationships often.'_

_'Thinking about love. About how I feel it. How I give it.'_

_'How it differs to the way other people experience it.'_

_'Yes, that. Other people love so normally, so calmly.'_

_'What we see of love is so often the polished, practised exterior. Bright smiles, arguments stored for later. Love in private is very different to what we observe on the stage of public life.'_

_'It still seems different.'_

_'Lee and Fenris.'_

_'Yeah.' He rubbed his eyes. 'It always comes back to them. Everything does. Someone told me once that I was in love with them.'_

_'How did that make you feel?'_

_'Angry. Defensive. Being in love held romantic connotations back then, for me. It meant sex and sex was_ _… unthinkable.'_

_Quietly, almost cautiously, Wynne asked, 'And now?'_

_'Now I do think I'm in love with them. I think the term applies, just about, for lack of a better one.'_

_'What does it mean for you, to be in love with your best friends?'_

_He shuffled back more in the chair. The room was light and airy, entirely un-oppressive. 'It means a way of accepting that I love them more than is probably normal, more than might be healthy.'_

_'You are more comfortable with the idea of sex now.'_

_'I've had basis for comparison, at least to an extent.'_

_'What does being in love with Lee and Fenris entail?'_

_At that, he smiled. 'Being excited to see them every single day, even after all these years. Wanting them close, wanting them around. Their happiness is mine. I care about what they care about. I love them.'_

_'Where is the divide?'_

_'Still with sex,' he admitted. 'But it's more than that now. I can see that I don't actually_ want _a relationship with them like that. I don't need it from them.' He spoke slowly, every word coming out was purely honest and new. 'I don't need to be in a relationship with them because our friendship is already perfect. It's_ _… everything and more.'_

_'We've spoken about what happened with Fenris. Do you still feel the same way?'_

_'It still doesn't feel like sex.'_

_Wynne was quiet, blank and unreadable but Cullen could sense her hesitation._

_'You can be honest,' he said, small twang of apprehension running through him. 'I know what you're going to say, anyway.'_

_'What I was_ going _to say, is that creating your own rules about what does and does not constitute sex can be a tricky thing, especially with friends.'_

_'It's not a rule.'_

_'A ruling, then. A decision.'_

_'It didn't feel like sex. I don't know how else to say it. We talked about it a few times, but it hasn't changed anything, not really.'_

_'Your perception of sex is a complicated thing, Cullen.'_

_'I know that. We don't need to talk about this.'_

_'What do we need to talk about?'_

_'I—' he cleared his throat. 'I worry about meeting someone.'_

_'Go on.'_

_'I worry about meeting someone who's_ normal _. Someone who's available, in ways that Matt wasn't. I worry about messing it all up.'_

_'That is a common worry.'_

_'Can I learn to be normal, do you think?'_

_'Normal is highly subjective. I would, for instance, class you as very normal compared to the kind of people I usually see.'_

_Cullen snorted softly. 'I doubt that.'_

_Wynne sat forward. 'Cullen. You have no personality disorders beyond high functioning hyperactive empathy. You maintain functional, fruitful relationships, you devote your time and energy into making the lives of those you love better.'_

_'I'm over the top,' he said, forcibly calm, brow raised, expression neutral. 'I'm a lot. I know I am.'_

_'How do you know this?'_

_He shrugged. 'I can_ _… feel it.'_

_'Internally, you experience an enormous range of emotions, absolutely. Within, you are a rainstorm, a thousand droplets of feelings and worries, concerns and ideas, but you keep your friends and loved ones dry. You control yourself and when you cannot, your mechanism is always to self-isolate.'_

_He didn't say anything to that, stared out of her windows, tried to let it sink in, but there were years of deeply ingrained doubt beneath the place where her words attempted to penetrate. That doubt was steel and it could not be so easily breeched._

_Still, he hoped some of it was true. Could be true one day._

_*_

_'Bullshit,' he chuckled, looking between Fenris and Thom, searching for any indication they were about to burst out laughing. 'Oh come on, a stalker? Really? Who the fuck cares about_ me _enough to stalk me? I'm the most boring guy on the face of the earth.'_

 _Fenris's eyes fluttered in a brave attempt not to roll them while Thom - cool new haircut with a snappy suit to match Fenris's, now part of his_ team - _rubbed his face._

_'We've had hacking attempts, a few irregularities before this but they were low grade. This was a serious breech and it went right for your itinerary.'_

_Cullen looked over at Lee, all four of them sat in her office. He was seeking help, but found none. She was deadly serious too._

_'So, what then?' he sighed in defeat. 'It's some fan?'_

_'There were traces of code left behind,' Fenris said grimly. 'We're having it analysed by my friend Dagna. This isn't a fan in the way that you're thinking of, Cullen. This is_ serious.'

_Cullen tried to take it seriously, but the idea didn't stick. Would not stick for a single second. 'It's probably just a hacker, someone trying to access the accounts for the money. Lee, you said your cousins are always sniffing around asking questions, it's probably them.'_

_'The Trevelyan's aren't foolish enough to attempt open theft and that isn't what it is, not this time. We have a very secure network upon which we operate. This was a big hit.'_

_Cullen looked between them. 'What do you want me to do about it?'_

_'I want to up the security,' Fenris said which was the absolute last thing Cullen wanted to hear. 'I want you to move somewhere else. Somewhere safer.'_

_'It's safe where I am.'_

_'No, it's not.'_

_'I_ hate _this stuff.'_

_'We know you do.'_

_'It's not remotely worth it.'_

_Fenris scoffed. 'We heard, "_ I'm" _not remotely worth it.'_

_'But come on, this is stupid. I don't need the level of security we have now. You waste so much of your time on it already and I—'_

_'This is not up for discussion,' Fenris cut across, voice clipped. 'This was a notification. Either myself or Thom will be with you wherever you go from now on.'_

_Cullen stared. 'How long for?'_

_Fenris squinted. 'Forever, obviously.'_

_'_ _…forever?'_

_'Cullen,' Lee took over. 'This isn't just you. I'll make the same adjustments, but they are necessary adjustments. You know this. Being in the public eye has it's downsides.'_

_'I don't have a stalker.'_

_Fenris shook his head, arms crossed. 'That's not all. You're not going to like it, but I want you to wear a tracking device.'_

_Something cold and monstrous slid down Cullen's spine, lips parting in surprise. He looked over at Leliana, but her gaze was fixed firmly away._

_'What?_ No _!'_

_'Cullen, be reasonable.'_

_'Look, I'll move if you want, but I'm not wearing a—a tracking device, for God's sake. I'm_ not _. There's no point!'_

_Cullen got to his feet, heading to leave when Fenris slipped off the desk and grabbed his arm._

_'I know your life seems safe,' he said in a dangerous tone, the kind he hardly ever used for someone who was_ within _their tight-knit group. 'I know the world looks brightly lit and non-threatening but there is an_ underside.'

 _Cullen looked down at where Fenris was holding him, biting back on irrational anger and instinct driven rejection of a concept that he detested, that word_ forever _ringing in his ears. 'I know, believe me.'_

_'Then you know that what I'm asking is minimal.'_

_'It's not necessary.'_

_'It is necessary if I deem it so,' Fenris declared, eyes flashing. 'I'm your head of security and my decisions are paramount.'_

_Cullen gasped, yanking his arm from the grip. 'Paramount?'_

_'That's right. Your safety, Lee's safety - nothing comes above that. Not your comfort, not your freedom, none of it.'_

_He stood there for a long time, breathing shallow, nose furling but all his retorts were trapped._

_'I'm not wearing a tracking device.'_

_*_

_The disagreement wore on longer than Cullen realised it could. He didn't think there could be any bad blood between himself and Fenris, not after what they'd survived back in the_ Madeline _days, but Fenris was utterly unmoved by Cullen's refusals and Cullen would not bend either._

 _Horror of the tracking device aside, what tiny freedom he did have was_ important _to him. So much of his life was scheduled, was managed as it was and he was grateful, he loved most of it, especially the result, but it was exhausting and sometimes, just sometimes he liked going for a walk at night. Being alone, even if it was only for ten minutes. Look up at the stars, find the constellations he knew and breathe free, alone and safe._

_Leliana refused to play go between, making it impossible for them to actually sustain any measure of silent treatment towards one another. This meant they still had to see each other every day, to interact and function, which they managed, but each word was heavy, was laden with subtext and it made Cullen weary._

_He didn't even want to talk about it with Wynne, especially as that was suddenly_ all _she wanted to talk about._

_'Very well,' she said when he shut her down yet again. 'Can we talk about how you offered yourself as a sexual surrogate for your friend to experience intimacy in a safe space?'_

_Cullen nursed a gently blossoming headache and sighed._

_*_

_He so rarely got sick that it caught him completely by surprise. When they were younger, he and Lee would joke that they didn't have time to get ill, couldn't afford to take a holiday and lay around with soup and blankets. It was different with Fenris, especially after they got him back. They'd always been careful not to make that joke around him because self-care was important for those they loved, though rarely for themselves._

_'You've run yourself ragged,' Lee told him while Cullen gave her a deadpan stare, lifting his eyebrow even as he accepted the tea she'd made for him. He still hadn't unpacked everything from the most recent move. His_ compromise _to Fenris, though it wasn't enough to fix what was wrong between them._

_'It's a cold,' he repeated for the millionth time._

_'It's glandular fever.'_

_'I'm_ fine _.'_

_'Oh God, save me from self-sacrificing men,' she huffed. 'You are staying in bed and resting, no matter what. I'll take care of everything.'_

_'I hate being in bed.'_

_'You hate not being busy but that is easily remedied as you can get busy talking to Fenris and sorting your shit out, can't you?'_

_He scowled, fever in his bones making him irritable. 'Oh, fuck off, Lee. There's nothing to_ sort _and I can't believe you're not on my side! Especially about the fucking_ tracking _thing!'_

_She felt his forehead, unmoved by his ire. 'Still so hot. It's making you moody, love.'_

_'It is_ not _.'_

_'Yes, clearly you're in peak command of your faculties, I see. Sophia could put forth a better argument.' She took his hand between hers, beseeching him to heed her advice. 'Please rest? Please. I need you fighting fit and healthy again, OK? It's a couple of weeks.'_

_The word_ weeks _made him literally panic, deregulated nervous system tightening around his heart at the thought of being removed from the world he'd just been learning to conquer. Reminded him of those agonising weeks getting clean, of spending the summer hiding with Lee and Fenris while they resolved everything in his life he'd let fall apart._

_He tried to sit up, tears burning in the corners of his eyes._

_Gently, she pressed on his shoulders, forestalling the upwards motion. 'Darling, I'm sorry, please lay back down. Look, you can write songs. You can use your laptop, you can compose. I'll send you advance questions for upcoming interviews and you can mentally prepare. I'll keep you busy, if that makes you feel better, but we can't risk your voice. That's the bottom line and you know it.'_

_Moodily, but somewhat reassured, he managed a nod, looking away, helplessly ashamed._

_'All right. I'll pop back around lunchtime or Josie will. Text me if you need anything.'_

_'Thanks, Lee.'_

_She smiled in the doorway before she went._

_*_

_A week into the illness, Cullen was losing his mind. During the day he was mostly fine; achy and sore, feverish and tired, but the daylight kept him sane. He managed to stay reasonably busy, called Madeline and pleaded with her to put Sophia on the phone now and then. Wrote songs that would never see the light of day because they were too dark, too grim. Bittersweet serenades of all Cullen's worst fears._

_Night was a different story. He was restless in his own skin, unable to sleep because he was over-rested and his system was all out of whack. He wandered the new apartment, two storeys with a railing that overlooked the entirety of downstairs. Sometimes he heard whispers of movements, as if someone was inside. He hated it. Hated the quiet. Hated being alone in this way._

_He tried to shake it off, to power through. Drank orange juice, downed vitamins, even tried to work out or jerk off, but neither were possible. He was really, truly sick and he despised it._

_Cullen watched movies and binged TV shows, but the sickness tainted everything. Left him unable to enjoy any part of his time secluded away in a new place that had no good memories yet._

_At the halfway point, he broke down and called Fenris sometime around three AM but the second his friend answered, he hung up, feeling intensely stupid. When Fenris called back, he'd had a few seconds to compose himself._

_'_ What's up?' _Fenris wasted no time in asking, alert and clear as if he hadn't been asleep either._

_'Sorry,' Cullen said and even softened with true born fatigue and exhaustion, he couldn't keep the clip from his tone. 'Dialled you by accident.'_

_There was a long beat of silence before Fenris said,_ 'Want me to come round?'

 _'So you can handcuff me to the bed?' Cullen snapped and then realised what he'd said, fucking_ hell, _face flooding with heat. 'Ugh. Whatever, I'm delirious. Sorry for calling.'_

 _He hung up before his best friend could reply and when Fenris tried calling again, Cullen pushed the phone away, bottom lip trembling. He didn't know_ why _he was doing this. Didn't understand why he was so angry at Fenris, not really. It was_ hardly _his fault for suggesting something that turned Cullen's stomach._

_He tried to blame the illness, to blame how fucked everything was in his head just then, but it didn't help much._

_On the ninth day, he awoke in a flop sweat to a hallucination of a man in his room. It jolted him at first, sent his heart spiralling right up into his throat, but then he realised the shadowy figure was not real, of course it wasn't real, but maybe_ _…_

_'Fen?'_

_The shadowy figure shook it's head, sat on the windowsill, back against the frame, features obscured by the gentle city lights streaming in from behind. The window was open. Cullen must have opened it, didn’t remember doing so, but the breeze felt lovely. He sat up, took a few calming breaths as his lungs filled with the fresh, cool air._

_'Thank you,' he half slurred to the shadow, who watched him benignly and then he asked, like a child, 'Will you stay with me?'_

_He didn't even have it in him to feel silly that he was talking to a literal shadow, a figment of his fucking imagination, especially not when the shadow nodded gently._

_Cullen hummed, the sound not hurting for the first time in well over a week and when he shuffled down into the covers again, the breeze rustled gently over his skin like a caress and the make believe presence soothed him enough to fall into a dreamless sleep._

_*_

_After two weeks he was well enough to return to his normal life, but now things between them were even worse. The aborted call had upset Fenris, Cullen could tell._

_Their normal schedule resumed after a few days of vocal training to get Cullen's voice back to where it had been, but Lee kept the vocal coach on retainer anyway, said it was a good person to have before performances. He emerged from illness to find that Fenris had solidified all of his ideas about improving security, all but one._

_'Glad you're feeling better,' he told Cullen, his expression shielded and shallow in a way that made Cullen quietly despair._

_'Thanks,' Cullen replied, equally detached. 'Was nice to have time to myself.'_

_Lee could muster no humour about it, was openly distraught about what was happening between them but there was only so much she could do and they had a schedule to catch up with, money to make. Madeline's payments meant that two weeks of languishing and hallucinating had cost them. Cullen threw himself into work and his relationship with Fenris threatened to fall apart completely._

_*_

_'Love is usually selfish,' Wynne told him as they danced around the subject he still couldn't bring himself to talk about, made worse for the avoidance. 'It traditionally demands that one be devoted to a single person, that they fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else.'_

_'I suppose so, yeah.'_

_'But what if you love more than one person? What if you love two people so much that any form of additional love alters the rare and precarious balance you've established? Recall one of our earliest sessions, what did I observe about you, Cullen?'_

_'That I was nervous and fidgeting?'_

_'That, despite how deeply interwoven you were with your friends, you had experienced remarkably little self-loss.'_

_'It's_ not _that.'_

_Her gaze was searching. 'I think it is. I think you're manifesting latent guilt and worrying that you made a mistake. I think this will continue between the two of you until you admit that you had sex.'_

_Cullen squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, exhaling disbelievingly. 'Why is it still this? I've_ told _you, that doesn't matter, it's not about that. I don't know what's wrong between us but it is not_ that _!'_

_'Do you think he feels the same way?'_

_Jaw working, he muttered. 'I don't think I should see you anymore. I'm not getting anything from this.'_

_Hands clasped together, Wynne was unrelenting. 'Do you think Fenris feels the same way, that he believes what happened between you wasn't sex?'_

_'He said it didn't change anything.'_

_'That's not what I asked.'_

_'I—I don't know.'_

_'You've always made it very clear that you don't consider what happened between you to be sexual in nature and we have talked about your reasons behind that, but Fenris is not you. Fenris is his own man, capable of interpreting things entirely in his own way. Until you talk to him about it, this cannot be resolved.'_

_Cullen stood abruptly. 'Thank you for all your help.'_

_*_

_He cancelled his sessions with Wynne and in it, there was some measure of spite that he could not reconcile. Vaguely, he was aware that he was falling apart again, albeit in a very functional way. He began to control what he ate, making sure it was less than usual. There was something sick about it, something he refused to analyse or even acknowledge. Told himself it was to prevent weight gain, but that was ridiculous because he worked out five times a week, still ran most days, even if it was alone._

_'What can I do?' Lee asked him one day, sat beside him in the car. 'Stage an intervention? Lock you both in a room together? Tell me what I can do and I'll do it.'_

_Cullen was tired when he forced a smile and kissed her hand._

_*_

_He remained fully functioning and for that he was proud. He spent his twenty sixth summer performing non-stop, singing non-stop. He took vitamins, he juiced and he got a personal trainer, wanting to ensure he never got sick again, to stay in good shape. He lost weight, but his trainer assured him that was fine, that he was in peak health._

_He saw Fenris every day. The fact that they barely talked anymore did not mean that Fenris was going to_ leave _. He continued to protect Cullen, to organise his security. Sometimes Thom would gruffly suggest that Cullen talk to his oldest friend, told him to pull his head out of his arse and Cullen appreciated him, but he also ignored him._

_'Here we go again,' he heard Lee say to Josie one day, so much sadness in it that Cullen could hardly stand to be the reason behind it but_ _…_

_But he couldn't help it._

_It was like being behind_ glass _, seeing what he was doing every day and not being able to stop it. Every morning he woke up, he told himself that would be the day he talked to Fenris, let whatever it was inside him come tumbling out, and every time he saw the white haired man, still the most beautiful man he'd ever beheld, all those words dried up in his throat._

_His anger was aimed outward, but it was born within, true target was himself._

_And deep down, despite the untouchable horror of Fenris's suggestion to track his movements, he knew why._

_*_

_Every other element of his life was running like a well-oiled machine. He was able to keep up with Madeline's demands, he was seeing Sophia regularly. Spending time with her was the most incredible thing, even if she did sometimes look around, now three years old, and frown, asking where_ FenFen _was._

 _His fame now was such that even he couldn't deny it. He saw billboards of himself, he saw himself on TV screens. When he won a Brit Award, Lee and Josie came up onto the stage with him and he felt Fenris's absence like a gut punch as he thanked everyone, as he smiled like he'd been trained, spoke like he'd practised and thanked people for what he held in his hands, hardly able to believe he was_ there.

_He won other awards. Heart of Ninety Three went platinum and now he had security with him everywhere he went in public. Fenris still suggested the tracking device, a kind of bracelet he'd had made, at least once a week. Cullen's refusal put another inch of space between them every single time._

_Lee was heartsick about the whole thing but Cullen just worked harder, trying to compensate by being the perfect artist, by helping her take over the world. When they spent a week in the summer house in Corsica, he could tell she was sure that would fix it. They watched the construction, halfway done, of what was to be their villa, their_ home _, their castle from the eyes of the world but Cullen could not bridge the gap, didn't know how to._

 _Fenris was not his friend anymore. They were_ polite _to one another now. Cautious and_ nice _, the way Cullen tended to be around one of Lee's weekend men, though less so with Alistair, who he could not help but genuinely like._

 _Fenris slept outside under the stars, leaving Lee and Cullen in the summerhouse. It was awkward and stilted and Cullen hated it, even as he made it worse. They smiled at one another but it was the smile Cullen had_ learned _, it was the way he looked at strangers._

_When they landed back home, Fenris driving, Lee in the back talking quietly to Josie, Cullen acknowledged that sex had ruined everything between them._

_*_

_They went to war over pictures taken of Sophia. The pictures were innocuous enough; her sat on Cullen's hip as they walked through the streets, headlines nothing but an invite to read the_ story _about his_ part time daughter _, but he didn't care. He saw those pictures and he lost it._

_'Get Morrigan,' he told Lee, voice trembling. 'We're going to court.'_

_*_

_Cullen's twenty seventh birthday went by with the barest of acknowledgements which was fine by him. The court case was brutal; the tabloids and photographer put up an excellent fight, but there was no stopping Morrigan Korcari and after ten gruelling weeks, in which they set precedent for establishing protective measures of a minor, the pictures were retracted and deemed unusable._

_The case was won and Cullen was now a household name, so Lee informed him. It finally began to feel real, in some ways. He chatted easily with people on the red carpet of events he attended, Lee or Josie on his arm, Fenris always in the shadows. He smiled brightly and gave perfect answers. He talked about his music with some degree of honesty, while completely guarding himself and those he loved._

_Madeline was furious at him for going to court in such a way. She'd spent two months insisting he drop the case, that it didn't matter if Sophia was photographed, hadn't she better get used to it?_

_Cullen had ignored her, had endured her anger, even when it resulted in her hitting him across the face._

_What hurt more was the way Fenris saw the hand-print when he got in the car, saw it and looked away._

_*_

_'What happened between you two?' Alistair asked with genuine concern, gesturing between them, when they had dinner together one Saturday. Lee sighed and poured more wine while Josie chatted easily with Thom and his wife. Thom glanced over and shook his head._

_Cullen was more than used to looking at Fenris and smiling, expecting the same back because they'd kind of perfected this now, this pretending nothing was wrong, but Fenris did not smile, did not even look at Cullen._

_It sent a splinter through the glass, a fracture of warning that this could not hold, could not continue. Cullen changed the subject animatedly, focusing on Alistair and his exciting life, internally dreading what would happen when the glass inevitably smashed._

_*_

_Cullen missed him so much that sometimes he imagined him there in the room at night. The quiet hallucination born of glandular fever still accompanied him sometimes when he was halfway between sleeping and awake. The few times he rubbed his eyes, crawled towards the end of the bed, the shadow was always gone, unable to sustain when faced with reality. It was never Fenris, never real, but Cullen began not to mind. It was nice not to feel alone._

_He never dreamed about the other shadow anymore. There was a strange measure of comfort to be taken from the benign replacement and he took what he could._

_Things with Madeline were breaking down slowly but surely, her demands becoming outlandish once more. She became more difficult as Cullen established gradual boundaries, carefully rebuffing only her most ridiculous requests, things like wanting Cullen to make a will and leave everything to her, or marrying her just for the sake of money._

_When he did an interview with Cally Healy, it sat in stark contrast to the last one. Her sly questions were easily turned around now he knew how to answer without_ answering _. How to charm and bend the people who sought to expose him. He sat, calm and unruffled, as she asked him about relationships, about his childhood, death of his parents, dropping out of school. He navigated each question with ease, making the answers into the narrative he wanted to tell._

_'That went great,' Leliana said, as enthusiastic as she ever was lately. 'You smashed it.'_

_Fenris opened the door for him and Cullen tried not to think of how different everything had been the last time he'd sat with that woman._

_*_

_'I can't take it anymore,' Lee told him later that night, the two of them sat in her new apartment, penthouse at the top of a building she had always admired. 'I don't know how to make you fix it, both of you, either of you.'_

_She said it blankly, pallor underlining the toneless nature of her words._

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'Is this how it's to be from now on? I see you separately? What about Christmas? What about our_ lives _, Cullen?'_

_He said nothing, lips tight together._

_'You risked your life to get him back once,' she said, a wobble in it that told him why she was wiping her eyes. 'You risked_ everything _for him then. Why can't you do that now?'_

_She shoved away from the table, spilling their teas when he had no answer to give._

_*_

_There was a massive storm the day it all went to hell._

_It began like the majority of Cullen's mornings; without Fenris. He got up, did a small workout, ate breakfast while still counting calories, followed by vocal exercises._

_Shower, get dressed and then waiting for Lee._

_Except that day she couldn't make it._

'I can't get out of it,' _she told him on the phone, sounding deeply harassed._ 'It's a two hour meeting they've called out of the blue. I'll be to you as soon as I can. Just go there and start recording without me.'

_Cullen hoped against hope it would be Thom who came to collect him, but of course it wasn't. Of course that day it just had to be Fenris._

_'Hey,' he said, sliding into the car, tone friendly and distant as ever, like Fenris was a cab driver._

_'No Lee today,' Fenris observed, just as distant, zero friendliness._

_'Some meeting.'_

_'Recording studio, then?'_

_'Sure, thanks.'_

_Cullen stared out of the window as it began to rain, slow at first and then thicker, heavier. The September skies were full of it when he looked up, tasting ozone in the air, tasting metal._

_'Looks like a storm.'_

_'Forecasters said it's sure to miss London.'_

_'Doesn't look like it.'_

_Fenris made a tiny noise of irritation, but said nothing and they fell into cold quiet for the rest of the journey._

_By the time they arrived at the studio, the rain was absolutely pouring and a rumble of thunder had Cullen smirking while Fenris scowled, even though they were both getting wet._

_*_

_Cullen was halfway through a set recording a single when the power went out and a massive crash from above had everyone flinching. The windowless room was plunged into darkness and he pulled his headphones off, looking around, waiting to see if it would come back on, which it did not._

_A smaller, thinner light outside the soundproof room came on._

_'Generators,' someone said. 'We've lost power everywhere.'_

_Amid the chorus of groans, Cullen saw an opportunity to get away. Fenris wasn’t_ there _, was doing a sweep or something and Cullen didn’t know why, but he wanted to walk in the rain, alone. 'I'm going to get lunch, be back in half an hour.'_

_No one questioned it, but they all stared as he grabbed his coat, slipping quickly out of the room, headed down the stairs. It was quiet save for the racket of the rain, rumbling of thunder close by._

_He hadn't made it further than the lobby when Fenris caught up to him. 'Hey! Where are you going?'_

_Cullen didn't look back. 'To get something to eat.'_

_'There's food in here and you can't just—'_

_'I can do what I fucking want!'_

_It burst out of Cullen without his permission, so much anger in it that the words burned. Fenris gave him a very slow look up and down, condescending and coldly teasing._

_'Of course you can, superstar. You can do whatever you want, except, oh wait, no you can't. I'm your head of security until you fire me and I say where you can or can't go. We are not set up for you to go walkabout gazing moodily at the sky, so if you want to go outside, you'll have to endure my company.'_

_The_ superstar _comment stung, but Cullen just sneered and yanked the door open, almost skidding when he marched outside onto the pavement into the lukewarm downpour._

_'Graceful,' he heard Fenris mutter, somewhere behind and to his left._

_Biting down on an_ oh so _childish retort, Cullen clenched his jaw, marching off God only knew where, the rain soaking him to his skin._

_Fenris called out, 'Where are we going? Only so many places you can eat while still starving yourself.'_

_Cullen rolled his eyes, wiping rain from his face. 'I just wanted a break. Anywhere that sells food is fine.'_

_'You could have just_ asked, _this isn't—'_

_He spun around so fast that he almost skidded again, hands raised helplessly, gestures trying to say what words could not._

_'I can't do this with you, I cannot do this_ _… this fucking_ enemy _thing with you. I'd rather_ not _see you every day than it be like this!'_

_Fenris blinked through the rain. He didn't have his jacket on, not even his blazer. Only a white shirt that clung to him, showed the tattoos beneath, set in contrast against his light brown skin._

_'So fire me.'_

_'Is that what you want?'_

_'Fire me, Cullen. Get me out of your life if that's what you need. If you really think I'm here protecting you because of a_ pay check _then do it. Cut the cord.'_

 _'You really think that_ firing _you ever occurred to me?'_

_'You really think leaving you occurred to me?'_

_Lightning made the skies unnaturally bright for one terrible moment, thunder crashing a second later. The lightning shone in Fenris's hair, made the tattoos seem to glow even as Cullen shook himself, grit his teeth and tried to find his centre. He'd been able to, once, but that was because Fenris_ was _his centre._

_'I can't do this.'_

_'So do what you need to.'_

_'I don't know what to do,' Cullen said, voice cracking. 'I don't know how to fix it.' His hands lifted to his hair, shaking his head. 'I fucked it all up, didn't I? By kissing you. By_ _… by sleeping with you.'_

_Fenris blinked slowly and exhaled roughly, looking to the side. 'Christ, Cullen, you're so_ densely _determined to always be the bad guy.'_

_'Tell me it's not that then. Tell me we're not broken because we had sex.'_

_Brow lifting, but still so horribly guarded, Fenris said, 'I'm astonished you can even call it that.'_

_'Don't.'_

_'What? Keep you at arm's length, like you've done to me? Distance me with your_ other people _smile and make me feel like an outsider?'_

_'I didn't—'_

_'It is that, yeah,' his friend cut across. 'But there's more to it.'_

_Cullen nodded, swallowing over the painful lump in his throat._

_'Oh, here we go,' Fenris said, heavy with disgust and soft, unstable anger, arms rising and falling heavily by his sides, smacking wetly in the rain. 'Time to blame yourself. Cut yourself off from those who love you. I am so sick of watching you self-destruct for_ nothing.'

' _Losing you is not nothing.'_

 _'Losing me? I'm not a set of fucking car keys, you prick! I'm your best friend and you have been methodically_ removing _me from your life!'_

_'Yeah, well what about you?' Cullen yelled. 'Treating me like a project, telling me I'll never have any freedom again!'_

_'You knew this going forward, you knew how it would be!'_

_'I didn't! I didn't know it would be like this, how the fuck could I know that this would be my life?'_

_'Oh my God, can you hear yourself? How spoilt you are now?'_

_Cullen shoved him, smacked his palms against his chest and took savage, awful satisfaction in the way Fenris's eyes widened, even if he didn't stumble back, righted himself quickly. He'd always had an immovable centre of gravity, ever since_ _…_

_'Fuck you,' he spat, trembling all over._

_There was some terrible comment curled on the back of Fenris's tongue and Cullen could see it in the way those green eyes flashed, in the way his upper lip twisted, but the comment never came and they stood there in the downpour, skies so dark above them that it was like night come early._

_Cullen was twenty seven and for twenty one of those years, Fenris had been there. At his side, had his back, holding him up, offering comfort the way boys so rarely did, never withholding anything, never asking for anything in return either. It had been so beautiful, so easy and he felt like he'd taken a marker to a perfect canvas, scribbled over it needlessly, ruined it._

_Destruction for the sake of it._

_Cullen thought of the bracelets, of what Fenris had proposed and he tried_ _… he tried so hard to let it go, to agree then, to offer something to the man who'd been_ his _centre of gravity for so long that without him, he was cast adrift._

_But he couldn't. The anger was all mixed up with everything else, misdirected and devastating so Cullen wiped his eyes and said, 'You're fired,' before he turned and walked away._

_*_

_The storm intensified._

_Arms wrapped around himself, he tried to hold it all together as he put one foot in front of the other, determined to make distance and space, to put them between those words he'd just said and for a while it worked. He didn't look back so he couldn't see if Fenris was actually there or not, but he suspected not._

_Hardly anyone was outside due to the downpour but he was trained to be aware of people anyway, to be aware of anyone who might take pictures so when he started crying, he turned down a narrow alleyway between two shops, just wanting to be_ away _._

_In the small space, he could hear the impact of each raindrop; symphony of rhythm on bin lids, on the rooftops, on his skin. He dragged in a heaving, painful breath and put his hands over his face, the beginnings of grief creeping in._

_As he began to really_ feel _what he'd done, he knew instantly that he had to go back. He had to go, right now, find Fenris and fall to his knees, apologise, let go of his pride and—_

_'Hey.'_

_Cullen flinched, realising he wasn't alone. The alley had led to a small circle, a kind of miniature cul de sac for rubbish bins and boxes, the back of a restaurant, judging by the smell of rotten veg and other perishables._

_The voice was so different from the one he'd wanted to hear, but he turned, took in the older man standing there, eyes wide and slightly wild. He had a thick, old coat on with massive boots._

_'You lost?' he asked, thickly accented, European maybe._

_'Uh,' Cullen shook himself. 'No. No, sorry.'_

_His movements to leave came to a halt when something glinted in the rain, something bright and sharp. The man was holding a knife in his left hand. The kind of knife that people bought specifically to cut and kill people, not the kitchen kind._

_He couldn't move, only stared at the knife and then looked back up at that man who was_ _… oh God, he was going to kill him. It was there in the dark fire of his eyes, in the way he bared his teeth and then as that knife lifted…_

_Cullen was going to die in the rain, in a fucking_ alley.

 _In the split second he had to react, he lifted his arms in front of him, protective and instinctive, terror exploding within but it didn't do much when the knife came down, caught the side of his arm. Pain screamed through his nervous system, white hot and unexpected. He stumbled back but the man followed, crowded him against the wall as the knife swung in a reverse arc, ready to fall, to carve and stab and Cullen was_ useless _, body caught in primal fear, unable to do anything but cower and bleed, wait to die._

 _There was a heavy smack and a grunt. Cullen opened his eyes, saw the flurry of movement and relief slammed into him so hard it punched a noise from his chest. Fenris disabled the man quickly, but not easily. He'd put up a fight, that bigger, stronger man, but Fenris was unstoppable, was too fast and even in that adrenaline fuelled haze, Cullen noted how he was still beautiful, still perfect, even as he beat the attacker into submission, did things Cullen had never seen him do to a_ person _before._

_Only when the man went down cold, knife clattering against the wet concrete, did Fenris look at Cullen. Panting softly, he came forward, blood from his lip trailing down his chin in the rain._

_'Hey,' he said softly, warmly, stark contrast to the man who'd come with a knife. Those green eyes moved rapidly over Cullen, hovering where Cullen was protectively clutching his arm. 'It's OK. You're safe, everything is fine. You're safe now. Thom is nearby, he's coming with a car.'_

_Cullen shook his head, didn't know why._

_'Let me see it, Cullen. You're safe now, I'm here.'_

_Cullen started to cry again, the last two words hurting more than that knife. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.'_

_Fenris's voice wobbled slightly when he said, 'Let me see it, just to be sure it hasn't—'_

_'They put tracking devices on you in that place,' Cullen blurted out, the words twisted by a sob. 'Everyone had them. When they found you, you had one around your ankle and when they tried to take it off, you went crazy, you fought them and they had to sedate you. I'm so sorry, I should have listened. I know you're just trying to protect me, I'm_ _… oh God, I'm so sorry, Fen.'_

_Fenris stared, rain running down his hair, his face. There was shock, denial and then the quietly subdued horror of acceptance._

_'I never wanted to hurt you,' he went on, cutting through Fenris's silence, even as his friend looked down at his arm again, began to gently pry away the protective grip and examine the wound. 'I should have told you why I hated the idea so much, but it-it wasn't just that. It made me think of_ _… of other things you went through and I… didn't want to think of it as sex, what we did. I'm so sorry.' He slammed his eyes shut. 'I let it all get fucked up and I'm_ so _sorry.'_

_'I'm sorry too,' Fenris said, voice just about audible over the rain, over the thunder as it moved away. 'I wanted to put distance between us, after what happened because I_ _…'_

_He trailed off and Cullen opened his eyes, needing to hear it._

_'Please tell me.'_

_Fenris's jaw worked for a second. 'It took a while to sink in, but I felt like I'd used you, that I was no better than Madeline, taking what I needed, even though that's not what I meant to do. I wanted distance but then there was too much of it, fuck.' His controlled expression fractured into regretful despair. 'I wanted a barrier between us, to protect you from anything like that ever happening again, but I went too far.'_

_'No, it was me,' Cullen insisted. 'I was angry for all the wrong reasons, please don't blame yourself. I'm so sorry.'_

_Fenris sighed wetly. 'I tried so hard not to regret what we did that I made it into something completely other than what it was.'_

_'I did the same,' Cullen said, breathless as his honesty came tumbling out. He looked down at the man, a tremor running through him. 'You were right, about everything. I need protection. I'll do whatever you want, whatever you say, I promise. Please don't leave.'_

_The last word cracked hard in his throat and Fenris wrapped his hand around the crook of Cullen's arm, applying pressure to stop the bleeding._

_'Radial artery is intact,' he said, mostly to himself. 'You'll be fine.'_

_Cullen needed more than that. 'Fenris. Please don't leave me.'_

_Fenris looked up, frowning. There was such intensity there that Cullen could hardly stand to feel it. 'You thought firing me would actually get rid of me?'_

_He tried to laugh, but there was way too much adrenaline in his body and it came out a choked sob. Fenris laughed gently, laughed_ for _him, free hand on his shoulder._

_'Everything will be fine,' he promised. 'I'll always be here. I'll always protect you, always love you. Could never not love you, Cullen.'_

_They stood in the rain, clutching one another until Thom and three others came and secured the unconscious man, clearing a path to the waiting car._

_*_

_The wound was superficial and Cullen didn't even need stitches. He sat on the hospital bed as they wrapped it up, feeling bad for all the attention that was being paid to him. Fenris did not move from his side. Lee's high heeled stride heralded her arrival long before she hurried inside the room, casting about for Cullen, shoulders sagging with relief when she saw him._

_'You complete and utter fucking moron!' she cried, flinging her arms around him even while his forearm was still being bandaged. She smelled of perfume and rain, one half of home. 'What happened?'_

_She asked that of Fenris, like Cullen couldn't be trusted to tell the story, even as she kissed his cheek, brushed back his rain damp curls._

_'He was attacked,' Fenris said. 'Guy with a knife. He's been arrested, they're questioning him now.'_

_Lee stepped back enough to take them both in, index and middle finger rubbing lightly over her bottom lip as she surveyed them tremulously. 'I will murder you both unless you tell me things are going to be OK between you.'_

_Cullen's smile was a_ weird _, shaky, wobbly thing. The clashing adrenaline left him cold and trembling, but beneath that, he felt hopeful that they could move past this, that the sense of life and death was enough for him to prioritise and get over his bullshit._

_He didn't really have the words to assure her of what she wanted, simply because he didn't know how to say it._

_'I promise,' Fenris spoke for him, voice strong and yet soft in a way that made Cullen feel safe. 'Everything will be fine.'_

_'Be very specific,' she said, toll of the last few months clear and present in her tone. 'Because I'm not going through this anymore. I can't.'_

_The nurse who'd been bandaging Cullen's arm cleared her throat politely. 'You're all done, sir,' she said. 'I'll just_ _… give you some privacy.'_

_Lee didn't seem to care, didn't even wait until the girl left the room to say, 'I love you both more than anything in this world and watching you do this to each other has damn near broken my fucking_ heart _, so please, tell me you're not going to do this anymore.'_

_Cullen looked up at Fenris, cheeks a bit red from the intensity of Lee's words. 'I'm so sorry,' he said again, this time more in control. 'I reacted badly, I internalised what we did and made it into something it wasn't, into something bad. I'm sorry.'_

_'I did the same,' Fenris said, green eyes suspiciously bright as his throat bobbed. 'And I didn't know about the_ _… the tracking devices, but I get it. I get why you reacted like that. I'm sorry for making it seem like you didn't have a choice. Of course you do, every decision we make, we make together. I love you so much and I'm sorry.'_

_Arm bundled up with gauze, Cullen hugged Fenris's middle, the embrace no less warm for how awkward their positions were._

_'Right, now me.'_

_He laughed and Fenris kissed his hair before sighing. 'Lee, we're very sorry.'_

_'You put me through hideous suffering and pain,' she told them plainly. 'And if you and I had not done something similar to Cullen, I would find it frankly unforgivable, but,' she added softly. 'We did. We made Cullen watch while we did this to each other, so, I forgive you both and I love you both. Please don't ever do this again.'_

_Cullen opened his arm to her and she joined them, three person hug making him sigh with relief and a dozen other emotions too delicate to name, too complex to identify. Cullen sank into the safety of them both and it felt like coming home._

_*_

_That night they stayed together all three of them in Lee's new, massive place. They sat on her bed and Cullen played songs, Fenris catching popcorn in his mouth, Lee telling stories that they all knew, but had forgotten. They talked of hilarious times in their youth, of experiences, of near misses and disasters. So many disasters that with enough time passed, seemed funny now._

_Cullen could tell that it had shaken her, that she was trying extra hard to somehow make up for how close it had really come to their departure by making a little world for them to retreat to while she worked to solidify a bond that had been pushed to breaking point._

_But it hadn't broken, not in the end. Fenris had still followed Cullen, had still protected him and Cullen had been about to turn and go back, unable to live in a world without his best friend._

_When they snuggled beneath her light, silky covers, she was between them, flicking through the music channels to see how long before they landed on Cullen. Cullen had bet at least three minutes, Lee bet thirty seconds and Fenris bet five._

_They laughed and cheered uproariously when Fenris won and Cullen stared at the screen, jaw slack because there he was, singing and_ _… ugh, posing and kind of acting. He_ hated _music videos, even if this song was one of his favourites from Heart of Ninety Three._

_Other songs came on and Lee turned the volume down enough for it to be soothing white noise, the only light from the TV as she pulled the covers high, turning on her side._

_'Night,' she whispered softly, facing Fenris as Cullen wrapped his arm around her like he’d done a thousand times before, like they were still kids who could share beds and think nothing of it. It had been a long time since they'd slept like this. The last time, Cullen struggled to recall, was probably in her dorm room, in that tiny bed barely made to accommodate_ one _, let alone three. 'Love you both.'_

_Fenris's arm brushed across Cullen's as he settled lower into the pillows, kissing Lee's nose, but he didn't go to sleep, not right away. He looked at Cullen for a while, just_ _… looking, just being there, existing in that space that no one would understand, maybe not even Josie, who'd seen them both at their worst, Lee's blood still wet on their clothes, such anger and grief between them that Cullen could barely recall it without wincing._

_'Love you, Lee,' Cullen said, kissing her shoulder and he settled closer, bones weary even if his heart was bright once more._

_'Love you, Lee,' Fenris echoed and she sighed._

_'Say it to each other,' she instructed sleepily, teasing smile audible in each softly spoken word._

_Fenris smiled, half rolling his eyes even as Cullen mirrored it helplessly._

_'Love you, Cullen.'_

_'Love you, Fenris.'_

_'This is as close as you're ever getting to a threesome,' Fenris warned her teasingly and she snorted at that, chuckled in a way that Cullen felt through her back, her amusement seeping into him._

_'Ah, give me time,' she said. 'Give me time.'_

_Fenris went to say something but thought better of it. Cullen felt weirdly pleased that he_ knew _exactly what Fenris was going to say then._

_That he would give her the world if he could._

_Her breathing turned deep and soft, each exhale lengthened and it was like listening to the ocean waves rolling in and out. Cullen sighed happily, able to look_ forward _to things again._

 _Fenris gently mouthed,_ love you. _No_ _humour behind it that time as he interlaced their fingers together. Cullen said it back in silence, such truth there in those two words that he felt stupid for ever_ thinking _he could be without his best friend. Soon, his eyes grew heavy and when he slept, he did not imagine a shadow, didn't have to._

_*_

_'I don't understand.'_

_'He's a thug, the kind you can hire off the street,' Fenris explained, studying the report with a troubled frown. 'He said he was paid by someone to follow and attack you. Said he'd been told to watch you for days and wait for you to be alone.'_

_Cullen rubbed his eyes. 'So_ _… that's not the stalker?'_

_'He didn't even know who you were. Just a mark.'_

_'He could be lying,' Lee said, but it was uncertain. They were sat around her breakfast bar while Fenris explained the police report._

_'Yeah, that's a possibility, but he has a record of being a hired thug. He said_ _…' Fenris shook his head, looking up. 'He said that the man who hired him instructed him to_ hurt _you, not kill you. He said that part was very clear.'_

 _Cullen would have liked it a lot more if this_ was _the guy Fenris and the others were so concerned about._

_'Who hired him?'_

_'It was done by phone. Untraceable, probably. Cash drop. I doubt there'll be anything to find, but Thom has a few police contacts, he can have them keep us updated.'_

_'Why would someone do this?'_

_Cullen and Fenris looked at one another then, but the idea was_ _… well, it was ridiculous, wasn't it? The idea that someone had_ hired _the man to attack Cullen to, what, prompt a fucking reunion between them? No. That was the outcome, but it could not be the intended one._

_'To rattle us, set us on edge, to make Cullen feel unsafe. Maybe to flex. Shit,' Fenris sighed, chuckling hollowly. 'Maybe just for fun.'_

_Cullen took a deep breath. 'I'll wear something if you want. A tracking device, whatever you think is best.'_

_The smile fell away from his friend's mouth instantly. 'You don't have to—'_

_'No, I want to. It was a good idea, a smart idea. People like me wear things like that, don't they? You were just being clever, being a good bodyguard. Good friend.'_

_'I'll try to make it as unobtrusive as possible. For now, we can put a tracking app on your phone. A much more secure one with a panic button.’_

_Cullen reached across the table, took both their hands in his._

_'I didn't_ _… really believe you guys when you said it, but I do now. I'm sorry I didn't trust you before. Safety first, going forward. Protecting those we love is always the priority.'_

_Lee sighed. 'Sometimes your idea of protecting us is to leave us.'_

_'I know,' he said with difficulty. 'I'm going to try and work on that.'_

_'With Wynne?'_

_'Maybe, but either way, I promise to do better going forward.'_

_'How about,' Fenris countered gently. 'We make_ caring _for those we love a priority?'_

_Cullen looked at both of his best friends in turn and smiled._

_'I can do that.'_

_'Then so can we,' Lee said, sounding more like herself than she had for months. 'Now, let's put this shit in the rear-view where it belongs. Life is short and love is rare, let's not waste either.'_

_*_

_In the spring before he turned twenty eight, he released his fourth album. It was called_ Horizon _, though that was mostly because nobody let him call it_ Triangle _._

 _The decided upon title was blander and it played well to the execs, but Cullen always thought of it as being the_ Triangle _album. The album where he poured his heart and soul into songs about his friends, but also being with a married man, about broken hearts and affairs. About safety and risk, about things that came in threes and how something with three points and corners broke apart._

_Horizon worked too. Cullen had chosen that as his second choice, had always liked the word - the line that separated earth and sky._

_They recorded and produced the whole thing in less than three months. It had come_ pouring _out; every single song came fully formed._

 _And even though he_ knew _it was good, he was still shocked when it rocketed to number one. When it broke download records, when it went platinum._

 _There was one song that became the song he was known for. He hadn't had that before,_ a song, _but Swim Into The Tide became just that. It was the song people asked him about, the song everyone wanted to hear him sing. Everyone wanted to know who it was about and Cullen would just smile, would half shrug and wink at whoever had asked, never giving the answer because the answer was fucking ridiculous._

_*_

_'Hey man, congrats!' Hardiss fucking Lilbourn said as he smacked Cullen on the back. Cullen averted his gaze from where Dorian was standing talking to the roadie crew, arms crossed, listening intently. He always seemed to be helping. 'Who'd have thought, huh? Came up together and now you're the big thing! Great song, by the way. Which of 'em was it about?'_

_Cullen and the crew member who was fitting his ear piece shared a brief look before Cullen said, 'Pardon?'_

_'The song! Which one of your besties was it about? The red head or the one who looks like an elf?’_

_'You're all set, Cullen,' the crew member said. 'Sound check in two.'_

_'Thanks.' He turned to look fully at Harry, instinctive dislike rolling across him like hackles raising. 'A song doesn't have to be about a person.'_

_'Come on, no way that wasn't about a special someone,' Harry said slyly and then he followed the path where Cullen had been looking, grin splitting wide. 'Fucking hell, did you write it about—'_

_'You know what?' Cullen snapped. 'I don't_ like _you and I'm sick of pretending that I do. Just because we're in the same business doesn't mean I have to stand here and put up with you.'_

 _Harry's eyes widened but the grin didn't falter. 'Whoa, whoa! Calm down there, pretty boy, don't want to cause a_ scene _, do we?'_

_Cullen ground his jaw, wondering how many times he'd said that exact thing to Dorian._

_How many times Madeline had whispered it to him._

_'Just stay away from me,' Cullen warned._

_'But then who will you longingly gaze at?'_

_'I'm not gazing at anyone.'_

_'How comes you wrote it about him? You don't even know him.'_

_'I didn't—'_

_'But then,' the taller man said slowly, eyebrow cocking, something decidedly unpleasant about the speculation Cullen saw there. 'Maybe you're onto something.'_

_'Don't you ever get tired of talking shit all the time?'_

_'Are you seriously telling me it_ wasn't _about him, then? I see the way you stare. The way you_ worry _about him, even from a distance.' Harry snickered. 'Don't know why you never took me up on my offer. Kid doesn't even remember most of what happens night before if you get him good and drunk enough.'_

 _Cullen had come to terms with tanking his entire career on the spot if it meant murdering that piece of shit, but someone came hurrying over as he moved towards Harry, or_ Bull _as he insisted he be called these days._

_'Izzy!' the lumbering rock star greeted with a boom. 'Look at you, girl, they letting you go on in just your underwear?'_

_Cullen glanced behind her, relieved to see that Dorian had gone, at least._

_'This is an outfit, I'll have you know,' she admonished playfully, even if it was more guarded than usual. 'Krem is looking for you, there's drama with Seth.'_

_Bull laughed, pleased. 'Ain't there always? All right, I'll go sort it. Catch you next time, Cullen. And uh_ _…' he looked pointedly at the space where Dorian had been standing. 'Thanks for the tip.'_

_Cullen wanted to scream something awful, wanted to follow and_ hurt _him which_ _… he never wanted to hurt anyone, but it was a living thing inside him then, writhing and spitting with fury._

_'Deep breaths,' Izzy said quietly, calmly. 'You looked like you were about to rip his head off by the topknot.'_

_'I wanted to,' he ground out, shocked to hear how breathless he was. 'I fucking hate him.'_

_'Yeah,' she agreed. 'Even I can't pretend he's anything less than an arse these days. Don't let him get to you, all right? Come on, time to sing for the world._

_*_

_It wasn't about Dorian, not really. It was more about what Cullen imagined, how he imagined he could love someone like that. Abstract construct of something he longed for in the shape of someone he was deeply attracted to. And sure, it was common in the music world to exaggerate, to find a muse. To write stories and tales interwoven in the notes or at least that was what Cullen told himself, that it wasn't about Dorian._

_Except whenever he sang that song, it was Dorian he saw behind his eyes when he closed them. Dorian he wanted to make_ smile _._

_He had never seen Dorian smile, not once._

_He knew he should let it go. That Dorian had been with Harry for years now and that didn't seem like it was going to change and Cullen, he had enough going on without lying in bed at night, trying to imagine how Dorian would look if he was_ happy. _How it would sound to make him laugh. How it might feel to see him at ease._

_Cullen had not returned to therapy, though he had called Doctor Wynne and apologised for how he'd left things. He saw Bran now and then, made time to call him but his younger brother only answered half the time and he was a ghost of his former self without Cassie and Danny. Cullen quietly acknowledged that he had been able to put back together his relationship with Fenris, but not with his brother, not yet._

_He hoped for better, to_ be _better, one day. To be enough to make everyone happy._

_Rosalie drifted in and out too, bringing tales of passing loves, of beautiful secret places that the earth opened up to show only her. She was fluent in so many languages now, her skin was gold and tanned and she always had some new tattoo. Fenris still plaited her hair, Lee still called her darling girl and she remained as close with Cullen as ever. He took comfort in that, in his free spirited sister who he'd once held while she cried and asked if Fenris was dead._

_She was a beautiful woman now, fully formed and independent, though he hoped not too independent that she ever drifted from the notion that she was loved and needed and supported completely, his Rosie Rey._

_He wondered what Mia would say if she saw him, all of them. He thought sometimes about what his Dad would think of his music, or his Mum would think of Sophia._

_When the villa was complete, they spent two weeks there together decorating it, making it_ home _. Cullen looked around his room and realised that this,_ this, _would always be his room. No matter where he moved to in Britain, no matter how many times he changed places, this was a mainstay. This was what Lee had designed for them._

 _He painted the walls dark grey and he bought chalk paint pens in all different colours. He wrote his words on the wall for the first time and it_ _… left him almost breathless, the_ freedom _of it. To write openly and widely, to let his imagination run wild, to write his favourite songs and see them there. He used all different colours, basking in the feel of his creativity all around him. It was an indulgent feeling, selfish and prideful almost but he didn't care. He stood on the bed and wrote the lyrics to_ Swim Into The Tide _on the ceiling, laid down and stared at them for a long time._

 _They made it their own, they made it_ home, _the kind he usually only felt with their arms around him. This was it, this was what they'd been building towards._

_They were possibly the two best weeks of his life, or they would have been, if Sophia had been there._

_*_

_'She's getting worse,' Lee pointed out unnecessarily after they'd dropped Sophia back. 'Cullen, we need to think about taking her to court.'_

_'I can't do that.'_

_'You could think about it. Biology or not, you've been paying her for years, no court would ignore that.'_

_'What about the pictures? The recordings?'_

_'If they're even real,' Lee reminded him firmly and they had had this conversation before a dozen times, but Cullen still could not swallow the idea of such scrutiny at that worst time of his life._

_'Maybe we can talk to her,' he said, hearing how it sounded before he was even done saying it. 'Reason with her.'_

_Josie, who was sat up front with Fenris, looked back and smiled sadly. 'You can't reason with people like that,' she said softly. 'And Lee is right. She's getting worse.'_

_As if Cullen didn't know._

_*_

_At the start of July, Cullen went on a world tour, his very first time in America. It was three months and it was_ everywhere. _No more sharing stages, no festivals, no line-ups with other artists. He was touring_ alone _. He was performing alone, only him and his music and it was around the world._

_The sheer level of preparation that went into it was humbling. Cullen watched his friends work magic, truly the only word for it, as they readied themselves for something of this scope. To travel the world for three months, performing all over._

_They warned him that it would be a new level of exhausting, but Cullen was ready for it. He wanted to see the world a bit, the way Rosalie did. The downside was that no matter how much he pleaded, Madeline refused to fly out to any of the locations to allow Sophia to see him, which meant three months without her. She was belligerent on the phone, bordering on openly abusive and Cullen dreaded the approaching point where they would have to confront her instability, but for the time being, he focused on the tour._

_In the Barclay's Centre, Brooklyn, New York City, he stood with his vocal coach, running through scales, makeup artists applying a light layer of powder over his face while his equipment was fitted. By now, this was routine procedure, Cullen barely even noticed it, but he noticed Fenris and Lee hovering over a phone, watching quietly._

_'What's that?' he asked, frowning slightly._

_They looked up, expressions suspiciously blank. 'Nothing,' Lee said briskly, smiling easily as she stowed the phone. 'You ready?'_

_'Yeah,' he said slowly. 'But what was that?'_

_'Some YouTube shit,' she said, giving him a stern look. 'Cullen, focus?'_

_He let it go, exhaling. 'I'm focused.'_

_She held both his hands. 'You're here with us.'_

_It always grounded him. 'I'm here with you.'_

_There was nothing quite like the rush of performing for such an audience and when he went out, that_ sound _ripped through him in the best way possible. He smiled and waved, the songbird guitar in hand. He'd never been able to part from it._

 _The stage was wide and it was_ his _. He closed his eyes for a moment, the sixteenth performance so far of his world tour, and he let it sink in._

_Then he sang his heart out._

_*_

_That same day in late July, Fully Charged dropped an album called_ Kidding _and along with that, a YouTube clip Cullen refused to let go because he'd seen it in Fenris's eyes, knew something was wrong._

 _In his glitzy hotel in New York City he stood, watching possibly the worst thing he'd ever seen on that fucking website. He watched Dorian get his heart torn out, watched him walk in on something that_ hurt _him, tangibly hurt. He watched him stumble back out of the room, heard every sound and it resonated like it was Cullen's own pain._

 _It was irrational and there was no way to_ explain _it when he demanded they go back to England. That they cancel the tour and go_ now, _because he had to help._

 _How could he explain in rational terms that he cared about this person without knowing him, cared even_ more _now for having seen him like that. It was messed up and baseless and it all fell apart when his friends asked the simplest of questions._

_'Why?' Lee asked, applying an almost Socratic method. 'You don't even know him and he most definitely doesn't know you.'_

_Cullen fretted uselessly, hand in his hair. 'I could_ _… we can get it taken down, right? The video? Morrigan—'_

_'Cullen,' Fenris said, stepping in. 'This is an overreaction. I need you to see that.'_

_His friends were right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow._

_And how could he explain, when an album followed it only one day later, how much he felt that it was_ his _fucking_ fault _? He knew how easily his fears would be dismissed if he told them that he'd given Harry the idea to write about Dorian. He knew their cold, clean logic would strip his guilt right down to the bone and reveal the truth, which was that he had no business writing a song (albeit very loosely) about Dorian in the first place._

 _He didn't listen to the songs, refused on general principal to contribute to that_ motherfucker's _success, but he knew they were cruel, could tell from the titles. They weren't love songs._

_Dorian deserved only love songs._

_Lee sat down with him the following night after a day off spent languishing in despair and indecision and she levelled him with a look._

_'If you really want to go home, we will, but think this through. You are prone to idealising people, right? That's a fact.'_

_He nodded silently and she went on._

_'You're also prone to being overprotective and that's not a bad thing, but this man, he doesn't know you and you don't know him. I know it's difficult for you to see anyone suffering. Even I think that this is grotesque, but he's not our responsibility.' She nodded once. 'Unless you want to make him so.'_

_Cullen wasn't expecting her to offer him a choice, resented it in some ways because it meant he would have to face the reality that he had no place in Dorian's life and his fretting from afar was entirely irrational._

_'No,' he said after a few beats. 'No, you're right. I just hate it.'_

_'I know you do,' she said cupping his chin. 'It's hard for you to see anyone suffer. But we have a long tour to get through still, not even a third of the way through. You see where I'm coming from?'_

_'Of course. I'm here.'_

_'Good,' she said, smiling gently. 'Get some sleep.'_

_*_

_Cullen tried not to think of it for the rest of the tour, tried to give everything he had to the people who paid to come see him. He never went near social media anyway, that was Josie's area, but he avoided it like the plague now._

_Even so, he knew it was blowing up._

_It was hard to ignore, but he gave it his all._

_Their life on tour was strange and it made for an excellent distraction. He knew without a doubt that were he in London, he would be knocking on Dorian's door offering tea and sympathy before the other man even knew his name._

_Leliana's stress levels were offset by time spent with men she hired for the rare days off. Fenris and Cullen went driving together whenever they had a free day. Driving through the highways of rural America was probably his favourite memory of time spent together in such a way. Windows down, warm wind across his skin and the pair wearing sunglasses, singing along to the radio._

_Even so, the tour was physically and mentally exhausting. Whenever they could, Cullen would cook for them after the shows in their hotel room, some semblance of normality, of home. Of life on the road. Cullen cooked and they lounged around afterwards, tea and talking, laughter and love in between the manic stress and constant upward mobility._

_As part of the tour, Cullen went on talk shows, thus breeching the last barrier he'd clung to in his quieter moments of denial that he wasn't really a celebrity. He sat in the chair under the lights with the audience, smiled for the hosts and talked like he'd been trained. He came off as charming, as a tiny bit mysterious and as someone who was deeply self-composed._

_It was stunning to watch back, sat with Lee's legs in his lap, Fenris making tea while Josie took selfies with Rosalie out on the balcony._

_'They cut that bit,' he said, vaguely caught in the astonishment of watching himself on TV, talking instead of singing. 'Look, there.'_

_No one was really amazed except him, they'd all known he was big before he finally accepted it. He watched as the host asked him who_ that _song was about. Cullen wondered if it was obvious to anyone else, the_ tiny _bob of his throat, the way he moved onto how songs could be about anyone and from there, the importance of queer representation in music._

_He knew the thing with Dorian was still ongoing, sometimes he heard bits and pieces of songs from the fucking album._

_It felt like he'd caused it, like he'd betrayed him._

_So, he toured and he performed. He celebrated his birthday in Japan and they made the best of it._

_He did the talk shows and the interviews, he answered questions about his scar, about his young life. They all loved that he'd dropped out of school, they loved his accent, especially in America. They called him an alternative superstar and he still disliked that word ever since Fenris had thrown it at him that day in the rain, but he accepted it._

_He accepted all of it._

_***_

_The day Cullen got back from the end of the tour, all he wanted to do was sleep. During the last three months, the word_ tired _had been completely redefined. He'd learned to sleep whenever he could. In a car, on a plane, on a coach with equipment rumbling around or even upright in a chair. He could sleep anywhere, but where he really wanted, where he_ longed _to sleep was in a bed with no expectation to wake him._

_It was the first day of October, and he was twenty eight years old when he arrived back at his place in South London. He dumped his bags, laid his guitars down with a touch more care and didn't even shower, didn't do anything beyond go straight to bed._

_How long he'd slept was unclear as he'd arrived at night and awoken in similar darkness, but everything was quiet and still, a delicate chill in the air. He shivered and pulled the covers over his shoulder, slowly coming into a clearer mode of consciousness._

_The shadow was never there anymore, no need for imagination when he had his friends back, but he would still look sometimes when he awoke. This time was like all the others, nothing there and Cullen sighed, shaking his head._

_He glanced at his phone, date and time informing him he'd slept almost twenty eight hours. He checked his messages, the important ones, as he pulled off his dirty clothes and turned on the shower, running it for a while, helplessly guilty that he'd slept so long._

_The last message came from Lee, telling him to call them when he was up, they'd come round for dinner. He smiled, rubbing his eyes. No messages from Fenris, but the tracker in his phone - friendly compromise while Fenris worked on something easier to wear - meant that he didn't have to check in manually._

_The hot water was soothing and as he stood under the spray, a dozen muscles he didn't even realise were taut, began to loosen. That headache at the base of his skull ebbed away and he exhaled roughly, water moving over his face, rivulets that played with the sensitivity of his lip, always slightly raw compared to the rest of his skin._

_He was halfway down the floating staircase when he realised he wasn't alone. Something prickled along his senses, some awareness of presence and he froze, realising he'd left his phone on the sink by the shower._

_'Cullen!' Madeline's voice came from the open plan kitchen, behind the staircase, just out of sight. 'Hey!_

_'I—what are you doing in here?'_

_'You gave me a key for emergencies,' she chatted, unconcerned. She was doing things, making_ food _by the smell. Cullen came downstairs, hair still damp, fresh t-shirt and soft joggers, barefoot and weirdly uncertain of what this was._

_'Where's Sophia?'_

_'With a sitter,' Madeline said, shooting him a brief flash of a smile over her shoulder. She was definitely cooking something; the oven was on and she had pots and pans out. Cullen felt nervous, couldn't help it. 'Well, she's asleep and one of my friends is watching her.'_

_'OK. Uh, what's up?'_

_She turned fully. She had on full makeup, hair in thick waves and the kind of outfit he was well acquainted with seeing her wear before she went out for the night, usually looking to pull._

_'I missed you!' she declared brightly, walking over, arms thrown out. He didn't flinch, but his eyes widened slightly when she hugged him, kissing his jaw and probably leaving a red lipstick mark. 'It's been_ ages _, hasn't it? Months. How have you been?'_

_Cullen felt like he'd walked halfway into a dream. 'Yeah, not bad,' he said as she went back into the kitchen. She had two pans on full heat, the oven on too and it must have started while he was in the shower because there was no way to miss the smells, all wrong and burnt. 'Touring is rough. Thank you for letting me speak to Sophia.'_

_It was usually smart to show Madeline gratitude, tended to make her easier to deal with when she felt as if she was being benevolent._

_She threw him another gleaming smile. 'Of course! She's missed you so much, you have no idea. Next time, we'll fly out with you.'_

_'That would be great,' he said, moving cautiously into the kitchen area. 'Can I help?'_

_'You're so sweet,' she said, laughing. 'I was never very good at it, was I? But I wanted to make you something nice for when you woke up. I know you've been on the road, must be exhausting! I saw all your performances, Sophia_ loved _it! She was babbling about it in nursery today, her singing Daddy!' A pan boiled over, the water sizzling loudly as it collided with the heated glass. 'God, hopefully she gets your skill with cooking, though, eh?'_

_She was manic, Cullen realised dully. A manic upswing. She'd so rarely had them, especially in the last few years but he still remembered what he'd once thought of as spontaneity and passion. Still remembered being a young, naive boy who thought she'd hung the moon._

_'Hey, why don't you sit down and let me take over?' he offered soothingly, testing the waters to gauge her reaction._

_'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said, smiling wide, too wide. 'I've made a mess, haven't I?'_

_He laughed easily, years of faking it coming helpfully to the surface. 'I don't care. Who doesn't like a little creative chaos?'_

_Madeline stepped aside, wiping her hands on her jeans. 'You want a coffee, sweetie?'_

_The name set his teeth on edge, irrational fear gradually filling his chest. 'No, thanks.'_

_'Come on, you loved coffee when I made it.'_

_'I_ _… OK, sure. Thank you.'_

_That seemed to please her immensely and Cullen tried to take comfort in that, but he was on the verge of being genuinely terrified. What the fuck was she doing here? Was Sophia really OK?_

_'So, I wanted to ask,' she said, tone venturing into something more serious. Cullen almost felt relieved that she might get to the core of her reason for being there, cooking frozen food and burning it, boiling things and putting together a meal that wouldn't be fit to feed animals. 'And I promise not to be angry,' she added gently, fiddling with a cup. 'But while you were on tour, did you sleep with anyone else?'_

_Cullen stared at the space ahead of him, trying to parse what she'd said, all the possible subtext. It felt like a trap, a trap so wide and open that he couldn't even see he was walking into it._

_'I didn't have time to even flirt with anyone,' he said, choosing each word carefully. 'Let alone anything else.'_

_'But you wanted to?'_

_'No,' he said, keeping his voice steady the way Fenris would have. 'No, I didn't.'_

_'No? Bet there were pretty girls there, America and all.'_

_'I was too tired, just focused on the tour.'_

_Madeline poured hot water into a mug, smell of coffee grounds clashing with the burning frozen food that Cullen only kept for emergencies._

_'What about_ her _?'_

_He didn't react, remembered how not to. 'I didn't sleep with anyone.'_

_Peripherally, he saw her nod. 'That means a lot to me.'_

_He turned off the oven, pulled the trays of ruined food out and set them aside, trying to hide how his hands were shaking. Why had he left his fucking phone upstairs?_

_'I'm not sure this is edible,' he said with an apologetic smile._

_She sipped her coffee, pushed his towards him. 'That's OK, sweetie, I know you tried.'_

_He wondered if she was making a joke, if he should laugh but in truth, he didn't dare. Something was wrong, or about to be wrong._

_Cullen took the coffee and sipped it to be polite, unused to the strong taste. 'Shall we sit down?'_

_'No, let's stay here,' she said. 'Like we used to. Remember at Bran's place, in the kitchen?'_

_'I remember, Madeline.'_

_'I missed you saying my name. Say it again.'_

_‘You know what, I think my phone is—'_

_'Do you still love me like you did when we first met?'_

_He froze, muscles locking tight because he'd_ hoped _it wouldn't be something like this, fucking_ prayed _it was for money, for leverage, anything but this. And she was dangerous, she had always been dangerous, but even more so now that she had Sophia. He had to tread carefully, had to walk the line. He took a few gulps of the foul drink to buy time._

 _'Do you love_ me _, then?' he made himself ask, chancing turning the question around._

_She smiled easily._

_'Of course I love you,' she said in a low murmur, moving closer. It took everything he had not to step back, even though he couldn't go anywhere, the oven was behind him, sink to the side, cornering him in. 'Maybe not as much as I did at first, but maybe_ more _, now you've come into yourself.'_

_Her eyes were moving very rapidly between his, slow movements bringing her ever closer until he could smell her perfume, same kind she always used, no matter how expensive. He remembered buying it for her and having to buy less food because of it. Madeline had never learnt the cost of things._

_When she put her hand on his cheek, it was hot from where she'd been holding the coffee. When her body brushed his and he had nowhere to go but_ back _, he could feel how close he was to the metal of the oven._

_And when she leaned up on her tiptoes, tell-tale sign that had panic stabbing right in the centre of his chest, he did something stupid._

_'No.'_

_He half expected anger, half_ preferred _anger because he could deal with that, he could cope with that from her, but that wasn't what happened. Her pretty painted lips curved wide into a pleased,_ interested _smile._

_'Oh, my love,' she breathed, tone low. 'Do you want to play?'_

_'No,' he said again, louder but not stronger and she was like a predator, could_ smell _weakness. 'No, I don't want to play.'_

 _'You never wanted to play,' she said, long fingernails pushing up past his hairline, slight pain making him wince, felt worse than it really was and fuck, but he was going to have to touch her to move her, do_ something _to move her. 'But that was because you didn't like the game. What if we play a new one?'_

_'Madeline, I don't want to.'_

_'Why? You love me and I love you. We made a baby together.'_

_Phantom pain twisted into some strange incarnation of misplaced anger and he said, 'Until you got rid of it.’_

_He expected her to hit him that time. He'd said far less to earn one of her stinging slaps before, but nothing came and a part of him despaired._

_'I want to get back together with you,' she told him, now pressing him back into the oven, either unaware of how much it hurt him or simply not caring. The latter was more likely. 'Come on, we've been apart long enough, haven't we? You've got yourself together, you're stable and you can give us the kind of life we_ deserve. _I promise, we can play different games, play whatever you want. I love you and you love me.'_

_Cullen's lower back was burning, pain of scalded skin even through material making his ears ring and his flight instinct kicked so hard inside his chest that it felt like his ribs would burst but he couldn't move. It was a strange and unknowable thing that had him in a vice grip. Not quite uncertainty, not quite paralytic terror._

_The grip of inevitability, maybe._

_That malignant shadow, finally catching up._

_'No,' he said again, but he despaired to hear it come out thin and unconvincing. Why couldn't he control his own_ body _, for Christ's sake? He wasn't a child, not some naive idiotic boy. He knew her, this woman, he knew what she would do if given an inch and yet he stood there, letting her move against him, letting their bodies brush even as his skin burned and agony tore through him from the hot metal at his back. 'Please.'_

 _'Oh, honey,' she said, curling one hand about his waist and pulling him_ into _her, away from the oven. 'You're burning yourself. Come here, let me help.'_

_The relief he felt in the absence of such pain was dizzying, it was but_ _… there was something else happening. Something in his bloodstream. Maybe fear was swallowing him whole, maybe it was trauma drowning out everything else, but the world was dimming and when she removed the pain, he leaned against her, arms loose and useless._

_'Madeline,' he said, but it sounded_ far _now, too far, like someone else was saying it, even if it was his voice. He looked at the coffee on the side and wondered, but not even she could be that evil. 'Please.'_

_She was strong enough to guide him into the living area, settling him down on the sofa. He began to feel boneless, like he was sinking into the cushions. He tried to talk, but it wasn't possible anymore._

_‘I’m going to make you so happy,’ she promised. ‘And when we’re back together, you’ll see, it’ll all be different. It’ll be so much_ better _this time.’_

_He felt the scrape of her fingernails against his naval as the world went dark and the last thing he thought he heard was glass shattering, though that could have been his heart._

_*_

_Cullen awoke to weak, early morning daylight. The taste of outside air was in his extremely dry mouth and people were calling his name. For a moment, he thought he was in hospital. Waking up from surgery with nurses and doctors looking down at him with poorly concealed sympathy for the mess that was his face and at such a young age too._

_But no, he was in the living room and it was_ freezing _, yet someone was close to him, someone who smelled of home._

_'Fen,' he rumbled. 'Wh'ss happening?'_

_Everything was groggy, too hard to form a thought and hold onto it. He couldn't feel parts of his body, like he’d fallen asleep on his arm, except it was everywhere._

_'He's coming around,' Fenris said with quiet urgency and a hand on his face. 'Cullen, can you hear me?'_

_Mutely, Cullen nodded, though it took an unexpected amount of effort._

_'You want some water?' Lee asked. Cullen opened his eyes, light stabbing the back of his skull. It felt like he was hungover._

_Teeth chattering lightly, he shook his head and gasped at the pain it caused, hand lifting clumsily to touch his temple. He was laying on the sofa, cushions beneath his head, thin knitted blanket over him that Josie had made and gifted to him last Christmas._

_'Is he awake?'_

_Madeline's voice went straight to his heart like a bullet, triggering a jolt of adrenaline fuelled_ panic _that he didn't understand. Swallowing dryly, he tried to sit up and Fenris helped him._

_'Nice and slow, that's it.'_

_'I—what's going on?'_

_The room tilted a little, but it adjusted quick enough and when he blinked a few times, focus formed. His apartment was_ _…_ trashed _. There was glass everywhere and one of the floor length windows was simply gone, thin curtains flapping gently with a cold October morning breeze._

_Cullen heard Leliana's voice next. 'We're here, love, don't worry. We're here.' She grasped his hand, he felt it in his bones, but not the skin._

_There were at least six uniformed police officers, four paramedics nearby and two of them were attending to Madeline._

Madeline _._

 _Cullen flinched so hard that he scared himself, made himself fully_ jump _. He didn't understand it, could not pinpoint his body's reaction at all and he hated it. Hated not understanding what was happening._

_'Fenris,' he said, hand on his friend's shoulder to steady the world, leaning closer. 'Tell me?'_

_'Cullen,' an unfamiliar woman said. She too was uniformed with red, swept back hair. 'We'd like to have our paramedics look over you now that you're conscious. We couldn't wake you before.'_

_'Give him a second,' Fenris warned gently, the kind of way that Cullen could tell there had been a lot of warnings in the time he'd been there._

_'Have some water,' Lee said, crouched in front of Cullen, offering a glass with a straw. 'Just a bit, come on.'_

_He did as she bade, sipping the cold water and once he started, he realised how dehydrated he was. He emptied the glass. It helped._

_'Do you remember what happened?' the officer asked._

_'This is Briala Hewlett,' Leliana said, gesturing to the woman. 'A friend of mine within the police. Do you want us to tell you what we know?'_

_Cullen nodded and waited._

_'Madeline called the police around three thirty this morning to your apartment, here.'_

_'Is she OK? Sophia—?'_

_'Sophia is completely fine and safe,' Fenris soothed. 'Josie is with her, don't worry.'_

_Frowning, Cullen shook himself, trying to jiggle the pieces together because nothing made sense. 'Madeline's hurt.'_

_'Yes.' Green eyes were watching him levelly. 'Someone broke in.'_

Glass bursting, crashing, tinkling to the ground.

_'I don't remember.'_

_Briala knelt down beside Lee. She had a sharp but very light expression, a look that seemed to hold no weight, but Cullen could tell beneath it she was reading him as surely as Fenris. 'We think you've been drugged.'_

_That word was ugly and it hurt to even hear. He couldn't quite get a grip on the feral panic rearing steadily up inside him, no matter how many of Wynne's mental exercises he sifted through._

_'Tell me.'_

_'Madeline_ said _,' Fenris explained, heavy emphasis on that second word. 'That you and she were talking, that she came over after you got back from the airport and while you were talking, someone broke in.'_

 _Cullen looked at the gently flapping curtain, shivering in the breeze. 'Through the_ window _? This is the sixth floor.'_

_'That much is true,' Fenris said._

_Madeline snarled, from some distance away, 'It's_ all _true!'_

_He ignored her. 'The man who broke in was masked. He hurt Madeline.'_

_Cullen forced himself fully upright so he could turn and look over the back of the sofa. Madeline was sat on a dining room chair while a medic saw to her_ _… injuries._

_'Are you OK?'_

_'No,' she said, low and trembling with an anger he couldn't fathom._

_'She has some bruising and a few cuts,' the medic explained. 'We'll take her in for a few tests anyway.'_

_'So someone broke in and_ _… attacked her?' he asked, looking back to Fenris and Lee._

_'That's what she said, yes. Cullen,' Lee murmured, holding his hand. 'What's the last thing you remember?'_

_He stared unseeingly, forcing his aching mind to traverse backwards. He remembered landing in Gatwick. He remembered almost falling asleep in the car. Getting into the apartment, dropping his bags and climbing into bed._

_'I remember sleeping in my bed,' he told her. 'When I got back, that's it.'_

_'Did you cook something?'_

_'No.'_

_Briala asked, 'Did you take something to help you sleep?'_

_Cullen snorted softly. 'I wouldn't need it anyway for how exhausted I was, but no. I don't take anything.'_

_'Well, you definitely had something in your system. Your phone was upstairs in the bathroom and the shower has been used recently. You don't remember showering at all?'_

_'No.'_

_'And you don't recall Miss Hawke's arrival?'_

_'No.'_

_'You'll need blood tests,' she said, making a note. 'I assume you'll go with a private clinician, so just make sure to direct them to forward the toxicology report as well as bloods, OK?'_

_'I don't have to go to hospital?'_

_She gave him a brief smile. 'Unless you want to? Lee said you wouldn't want to and these kinds of things, with people like you, it's usually best done in house. Press will find out, but a lot of the details can be contained. My unit are solid, they won't leak anything.'_

_'Where did he go? The_ _… attacker?'_

_Briala blinked._

_'Back out the window.'_

_'Jesus,' Cullen muttered, but he couldn't really make himself afraid of this unknown man, not when Madeline's presence was causing his nervous system to quake. Something horrible was screaming in a language he didn't understand, screaming it right from the part of his brain that he knew produced fear. Wynne had liked her patients to know the biology behind terror._

_'He take anything?'_

_'A few things are missing, couple of valuables, but nothing we can't replace,' Lee said, her grip warm and reassuring around his fingers._

_Briala cast a glance around. 'This looks like a botched home invasion to me which is frankly unsettling because home invasions don't usually_ look _like home invasions.'_

_Fenris nodded. 'A little too staged, perhaps.'_

_Cullen felt like a child when he looked back at Fenris, gaze imploring, heart hurting and said, 'I still don't understand.'_

_'It's OK,' his friend promised. 'For now, we're going to make sure you're fine, physically. Anders is in town, he'll look over you and we need to be not here while they dust for prints.'_

_Briala cocked her head at Fenris, gaze turning warmly curious. 'You serve?'_

_'Special forces.'_

_'Huh,' she said, eyeing him with a coy smile. 'Wanna hook up later?'_

_Lee shot her a look that spoke volumes of the death she would inflict if she could. 'Can we_ focus _?'_

_Briala's brief moment of humour ebbed and she looked back to Cullen, all business once more. 'Forward the report along. We'll call you when it's clear to come back.'_

_Cullen looked down. 'I don't want to come back.'_

_'Then you won't,' Lee said easily. 'We'll have your things moved by tonight, don't worry.'_

_He nodded in thanks, grateful they understood. The whole place felt like the scene of a nightmare he couldn't recall. It had never felt like home._

_For the first time, he had no problem in acting like a self-entitled superstar and completely dismissing the place._

_'We've cleared a path for the glass,' Briala said as he stood up. 'But I still recommend shoes.'_

_As Leliana helped him, laced up his trainers for him because his fingers were still numb and clumsy, he couldn't help but notice on the floor nearby, amid the glistening wreckage, he saw a single glass of water, two thirds full._

_He stared at it for a while and his friends noticed._

_'They'll dust for prints,' Fenris said quietly. 'Come on. Let's get you out of here.'_

_*_

_It started in the car on the way to wherever they were going. Cullen was sat in the back with Fenris, Lee driving for once. He wasn't sure how they knew he couldn't actually bear to be parted from Fenris, but he was grateful for it._

_A slow trickle of understanding came back with images and fragmented memories and Cullen sat through it in silence, holding onto Fenris throughout. When the car stopped, he was hyperventilating, but doing his utmost to control it._

_'Nearly there,' Fenris promised as he guided him out of the car, up into a small lift and then they were in Fenris's own tiny flat._

_Cullen looked around. 'Why are we—?'_

_'Anders,' Fenris called out._

_The man who emerged from Fenris's bedroom was so thoroughly dishevelled and sleep rumpled that all Cullen felt in the moment was powerful sympathy and worry for Leliana, who remained at his side._

_'Oh, wow, there's_ _… people here,' Anders said, eyes widening. He didn't move to cover himself, stood there in a pair of baggy football shorts and not much else. Fenris helped Cullen sit on the small leather sofa._

_'Drop your head down,' Fenris said soothingly while he rubbed his back. It helped._

_'Well, this is wonderfully awkward, isn't it? You're_ _… Leliana, yes?' he said with an undertone of apprehension._

_'Get your kit,' Fenris said, no patience for anything else. 'He's been dosed with something.'_

_Cullen couldn't focus on Lee's quiet reply to Anders when he returned with this apparent kit, he couldn't focus on anything beyond the feel of his friend beside him, anchor to safety and still point of the spinning world._

_Because it was coming back now. Waking up, showering, changing clothes and then someone downstairs._

Madeline _downstairs._

_'Cullen,' Anders was saying in a friendly, weirdly similar way to Fenris. Voice low and steady, but soft too. 'My name is Anders and I'm going to be helping you a bit if that's OK?'_

_Cullen nodded, eyes tight shut._

_Madeline had been downstairs, burning things._

_'OK, Cullen, you're having a panic attack,' Anders pointed out calmly. 'It's going to pass, all right, but I need you to breathe with me. Your friends are here, they're right here with you and you're safe. Can you take a really deep breath for me and hold it?'_

_But Cullen couldn't because Madeline had been downstairs, burning things and waiting for him, making coffee that tasted bad. She'd been weirdly happy, said she loved him, inevitable, fucking_ inevitable _that she would come back for him, that she’d catch up, sooner or later._

_'He's going to pass out. OK, Cullen? I need you to look at me. Open your eyes for me, mate. That's it, excellent.'_

_Cullen looked at him, the man knelt before him and the position_ _… it sent a horrible thrill of misshapen recognition through him._

_'You are safe,' Anders said as Lee sat down beside him, arm around his back, but Cullen flinched and Anders zeroed in on it. 'Your back is hurt?'_

_Hot metal of the oven, but that was better than moving into her, moving closer to her._

_'Burned it,' he ground out. The words cost him dearly to say, like air was not free and he was wasting it._

_Fenris murmured, 'On the oven?'_

_Cullen nodded, grasping for Leliana's hand and clutching it when offered._

_'I'll take a look at that in a minute, but for now,' Anders said. 'I want you to breathe with me. In and out. Very good, and again. In and out. That's great, Cullen. Really great. Keep doing that for me while I take your blood pressure, all right? Your friends are going to breathe with you, that's it.'_

_Anders took his blood pressure and Cullen started to silently cry because he remembered all of it now. He remembered every word she'd said, every second of his absolute failure to react, to do anything, to take action against her unwanted_ interests.

 _So weak. So fucking_ weak _._

' _You're doing really well,' Anders kept saying, even though Cullen seriously doubted it. 'Keep breathing. Your blood pressure isn't too bad. It's passing now, can you feel it?'_

_Cullen could absolutely not feel it._

_He felt as if he was floating in a dark ocean and beneath him, a shark was swimming upwards at breakneck speed, about to swallow him whole no matter what he did._

_'It was Madeline,' he heard himself say. 'Madeline put something in my drink, she made me coffee, it_ _…' His throat closed, body rolling shallowly._

_'If you need to be sick, go ahead. You can be sick all over me, mate, believe me, I've had worse.'_

_Fenris rubbed his back, Lee held him gently and their presence was the only reason he managed to swallow down the bile._

_'I don't remember anything else. Did she_ _… do something to me?'_

_'How about you let me look you over so we can find out?' Ander suggested reasonably. He looked at Fenris, eyebrow slanting in warning. 'And how about_ you _calm down? That won't help anything.'_

_Cullen’s bones were locked in place so he couldn’t move to look at his friend, but he could tell what Fenris was feeling at the mere prospect of Madeline doing this to him. Cullen knew it all too well._

_'I think,' he panted, a slight wheeze on the end of the exhale. 'I think I remember glass breaking before I passed out.'_

_'That's good,' Lee told him. ‘That’s a good sign.’_

_'I'll still check you over,' Anders said, focused on his patient. 'The burn will probably need a bit of attention.’_

_Cullen’s bones were slowly unlocking one by one and without the rigidity to hold him up, he began to collapse in on himself when he said, 'I didn't stop her.'_

_He felt Fenris press a kiss to his hair. 'You did nothing wrong.'_

_‘I did_ nothing _.’_

Weak. Weak. Useless and weak.

_'OK,' Anders said. 'From what I can see, slight blue tint in the fingernails, blood pressure being what it is and your overall colour, I'd say you were given some variant of Rohypnol.’_

_‘Rohypnol specifically wipes memories,’ Fenris pointed out. ‘He definitely remembers it.’_

_Anders sighed gently. ‘It could be his pre-existing tolerance to opiates interfering with the side effects. How long did it take to kick in, when you drank the coffee?’_

_‘Uh,’ Cullen shook himself, trying to think of things like_ time _. ‘Pretty quick. I didn’t even finish it all.’_

_‘Could be Valium,’ Anders mused grimly. ‘High enough dose would kick in fast. Definitely some sort of benzodiazepine. We’ll know more when we do a blood test. I have a kit here, but first I'd like to look you over. Is that all right with you, Cullen?'_

_A jerky nod was the best he could muster._

_'Shall we go into the bathroom?'_

_'Here's fine.'_

_'Are you sure? We can do it privately if you'd like.'_

_'Want them to stay.'_

_Anders' voice was soothing when he said, 'No problem. All right, let's start with your back.'_

_*_

_It was a blur, the rest of that day. He let Anders look him over, take a blood sample, apply a soothing salve to his lower back. Briala got in contact with Lee to ask how they wanted to handle it. Lee told her to handle it quietly._

_'You'll stay with me,' she promised. 'Until we find you somewhere else.'_

_It was a blur, them taking care of him. Clothes and food, lots of water and many teas. Leliana being polite to Anders for Cullen's sake, Fenris's silent, helpless fury and Cullen trying to process everything, piece it all together._

_'I need to see her,' he said when the sun began to set upon a day he wanted nothing more than to forget. They started to protest, but he lifted his hand. 'I_ need _to see her.'_

_*_

_Sophia was spending the night with Josie and Lee at the place in Kensington, where Cullen would be staying also. Fenris took him to Madeline’s house, the place where Cullen had spent a weekend with Sophia._

_'I'll be right outside,' Fenris said as they walked down the path to her door._

_‘What would you do, if I let you?’ Cullen asked, the moment removed from reality, but the question necessary._

_Fenris stared at that door, something very dead in his expression. ‘You know what I’d do.’_

_Cullen nodded, submersed himself in that terrible truth, in so much of what they both_ knew _but would never say aloud. He let himself slip deep into his friend’s feelings then and it was strangely soothing._

_He took a deep breath and knocked, Fenris waiting in the shadows._

_Madeline opened the door, guarded and wary._

_'Come in.'_

_He followed her into the living room, but he didn't sit._

_'So,' she said, gaze shuttered. 'Come to apologise?'_

_'You tried to rape me.'_

_It was her reaction that really did it. There was nothing. No flinch at the ugly word that cost Cullen dearly to even_ voice, _it was so jarring. No denial, no outrage, certainly not the way he would have felt to be falsely accused of such a thing._

_Nothing._

_'You're confused,' she said evenly, but her hands were very tightly balled, knuckles white and she herself was pale, all her bruises and cuts standing out starkly. 'It's understandable, even though being at your place is the reason I got_ hurt _. You had some_ _… fucking psycho come crashing through the windows trying to get to you. You put me in danger. Look, look what you did to me.'_

 _Cullen distantly marvelled, but he was not moved, weight of that terrible_ word _like a lump of cement within. 'You tried to rape me.'_

 _That time, she half rolled her eyes, jaw clenching. 'You were probably high, taking God knows whatever on the road, not like you don't have the_ history, _is it?'_

_'I remember what you did.'_

_Her eyes lifted to him, the kind of look that usually promised suffering but he was beyond caring anymore. Any belief he had ever had that Madeline Hawke was a good person_ deep down _was gone now._

_'What you tried to do,' he said, borrowing strength from his friends, mimicking them even to a degree. 'Is beyond what I can even understand.'_

_The veil of neutrality slipped, revealing a flash of vicious fury that would have had him reeling once._

_'It was_ nothing _,' she spat. 'I just wanted you to relax a bit, Jesus.'_

 _'You heartless bitch,' he said, lip curling, body trembling with complexly woven fury, almost_ borrowed _fury because_ Cullen _was not quick to anger, but_ Fenris’s _rage at her actions was a deep well that could sustain the feeling. 'What the hell did I ever do to deserve you?'_

 _'Don't you_ dare _talk to me like that! You didn't push me away, did you? I see the way you look at me, see how you—'_

 _'I_ hate _you,' he told her, the words strong for once. 'I hate you, Madeline. I have no love for you. I don't want you, you make my_ skin crawl _. I despise you.’_

_She reeled like he'd slapped her. It took a few seconds for her to recover, for anger to return, giving her strength enough to invade his space._

_'You love me!' she insisted, palms smacking at his chest, his shoulders, the impact hard and cruel, pain stealing his breath but it was fine, he was strong, he could_ be _strong this time because Fenris was right outside and…_

_And he needed to be strong._

_He fucking_ needed _to be strong this time._

_Madeline tried to hit him around the face, but he caught her wrist, stopped her. It was sadly easy, made Cullen feel shame sting in the pit of his stomach at how he could have stopped her all those times, years ago._

_At how he could have stopped her last night._

_‘I won’t let you hurt me,’ he said, pushing her arm away and there was no denying how much he sounded like Fenris now, even to his own ears. Borrowed strength was better than nothing. ‘What you tried to do was monstrous, Madeline. I won’t let you hurt me anymore, do you understand?’_

_'Then I won't let you see her!' she spat, dangerous tremble beneath her ire as she floundered on unfamiliar ground. ‘I’ll never let you see her again!’_

_'This is not about our daughter.'_

_Madeline sneered. 'She's not y—'_

_'SHE IS MY DAUGHTER AS MUCH AS SHE IS YOURS!'_

_Her eyes widened and she took a step back. Cullen couldn't help but hate it,_ hated _hearing his own voice raised like that, hated seeing the tiny flicker of fear there in her eyes as if he would hurt her in a million years, no matter how he detested her._

 _'By love, if not by blood,' he added, reigning himself in, not pursuing her when she moved away. 'And the money I've been paying you over the last few years doesn't mean nothing, not in court. If you want to do this, we'll do it. We'll go to court. I have the best lawyer in the world and whatever you think you have against me,’ he glared, mouth twisting before he snarled, ‘_ Bring it on _.'_

_'I'll ruin you,' she threatened in an uncertain whisper._

_He never knew anger could make him cold, could run through him like a river over fire, soothing and steeling._

_'You do what you need to.’_

_‘All this because I wanted to fuck you? You’re_ pathetic _! Do you know how many guys fall over themselves to be with me? You should be grateful, it was only a fucking Valium to help you relax!’_

 _‘You’re Sophia’s mother,’ he said. ‘So I’m not going to tell the police or press charges. I don’t want to ruin your life, that’s_ your _pastime, not mine.’_

_‘I didn’t…’ Something in her seemed to crack, some splinter of guilt visible for the first time but Cullen was beyond it, cold, clean (borrowed) anger moving through him like a slipstream. ‘I just wanted you to relax.’_

_‘I am willing to pay you a_ reasonable _amount of money every month to give our daughter the best of everything. I will ensure you never have to worry and that you are both safe, but I don't love you and I never will again. What you did to me was unforgivable.'_

_It took a long time for her to look away, processing what he'd said maybe, though he knew better to expect anything other than freshly summoned vitriol._

_She surprised him therefore, by nodding._

_'Fine.'_

_'Thank you,' he said, clipped and cold. 'I'll bring her back tomorrow.'_

_At the door, she called out, 'I missed our life together. I missed being with you. I’m… sorry.’_

_Cullen paused, halfway free of her presence. His eyes closed as he swallowed, drawing on that borrowed energy, cool and blue, one more time._

_'You tried to rape me,' was all he said before he left._

_*_

_The following day his body was hot and itchy, irritable and needy. Cullen knew why, knew that his body was craving more of what she'd given him. Addiction was opportunistic, took what it could get and tried to hook in deep._

_He ignored it, refused himself any measure of solace to be found from painkillers, even though his head ached terribly._

_The news reported it as a burglary, nothing more. He moved again, took less stuff that time. He was starting to not care about furniture, treating apartments like hotels in a way. He missed the concept of_ home _. Anywhere that he lived alone just did not feel that way. He missed the other two, secretly wanted them to live_ with _him but they were happy doing their own thing. Fenris in his tiny, comfortable place and Lee in her gorgeous, sprawling penthouse._

_It took weeks for his hands to stop shaking, for the pain - chemical and mental - of what Madeline had tried to do to truly fade. In some ways, he grieved the last part of her that he had loved. She remained quietly co-operative and Cullen was polite and passively friendly to her when in front of Sophia, but she turned his stomach and, he suspected, always would._

_Cullen emerged somewhat stronger, but also a little bit broken. His trust in the world was fractured. He fought to move past it, but it never left him, the cold, sick knowledge of what she could have done had it not been for someone breaking in._

_He thought often about that glass of water. Fenris told him it came back clean, no prints and nothing inside but tap water. Madeline hadn't put it there, it would have been knocked over when the windows smashed in. He thought about it more than he should and when Fenris told him to let go of it, he did, because he knew he was obsessing._

_They spent a week in the villa, Alistair with them. Cullen let himself relax in the autumn sun. He let himself feel safe and finally, what_ could _heal, began to._

 _He liked Alistair, really couldn't help it. The guy was funny, he was outlandish and rather goofy. Cullen liked how happy he made Lee, but he noticed that the sex worker did have a tendency to tease Fenris; constantly flirting with him, pushing him even though it was apparent that Fenris did_ not _especially like Alistair._

_'Why do you do that?' he asked one night when they sat together in the shallows of that brand new heated pool. 'Tease Fenris.'_

_Alistair looked over and his expression fell a bit, though he recovered with a shrug. 'Part of the job.'_

_'Is it?'_

_'It's what she likes.’_

_Cullen understood; maybe wished he didn't because all he wanted was for his friends to be happy, to be together, to love one another without boundaries or obstruction, but he understood._

_Adult life was messy._

_'It's difficult for him, you know.'_

_'It's difficult for her too. Look,' he said smiling wryly. 'I get paid to be here, big guy. And I love the way I get treated, love how you all are, but this is ultimately a_ job _for me, OK? I sign non-disclosure agreements and I follow a list of instructions. This is one of them. I think it's why she likes me so much.'_

_'Because you get under his skin?'_

_'Yeah, maybe.'_

_Cullen gave him an apologetic smile when nothing followed that and silence stretched on. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to push. You're an amazing person and you make Lee really happy.'_

_'It's OK,' Alistair said honestly. 'I'm not offended. I wish it could be different too. I don't like upsetting people, but I think maybe he likes it a bit, y'know? Someone to glare at. Someone to roll his eyes at and dislike. You're all so in love, sometimes you need that bit of hate.'_

_Though Cullen couldn't relate to that, it reminded him of how Fenris had described Anders in the beginning. Irritated sex, he'd called it. Not quite hate sex, but close._

_'Well, either way, I'm glad you're here. You still keeping safe?'_

_Alistair laughed, reaching for a glass of champagne from the side of the pool and when he took a sip, he winked at Cullen. 'Lifetime of practise.'_

_*_

_It took Cullen a while to realise he'd fallen into high functioning depression. Part of the reason it took so long was that he genuinely thought he was doing so_ well, _despite his relationship with Madeline having all but broken down. He knew it was inevitable, that he would have to take her to court and face the day she told the world that Sophia, light of his fucking life, was not his blood, but he was beyond his fear of that now. She made his life difficult, but she had always done that._

 _He'd been working non-stop, been_ active _non-stop. Gained weight, fell back into all his good routines. He had no real reason_ not _to feel happy, but there was a strange divide between himself and that elusive sense of contentment. He was detached, tired all the time but not exhausted, not isolated. Whenever he'd been in a slump before, there was usually some catastrophic reason._

 _This was a quiet, creeping feeling that sapped his energy at the end of the day, that whispered_ why bother _do all the things that made him happiest. It was still being able to smile, but knowing that his smile was dim. He was at ease when around his friends at night, when they could relax together, but sometimes even they were tiring which was… not right, not right at all._

_On New Year's day, he looked around at his life, at the place he was staying with boxes still half unpacked because most of it didn't matter to him, wasn't really needed and he knew he was in trouble._

_*_

_They toured like crazy in early Spring, gearing up from smaller, more spaced out performances in Europe throughout the winter months of the new year. As the sun shone more, they began to gather steam._

_The difference was performing in short bursts. Two weeks maximum. Cullen knew he would not be able to do a three month slog again, not without enormous cost to his mental health. Maybe not ever and he was confident enough now to say_ no _should someone ask again. The record label were never pleased when he said no._

_'I've been dealing with a lot,' he told them in a board room meeting, Morrigan on one side, Lee on the other, Fenris at the door._

_'And we_ understand _,' the head of artist development, a man Cullen had never gotten along well with, said with a smile that spoke of forced pity. 'But we need the album and the contract is clear.’_

_'We produced the previous album earlier than scheduled,' Lee said, leaning back in her chair, taking the occasional note on a pad. 'And publicity is at an all-time high.'_

_'Which is why we need an album,' head of publishing said, grinning. 'To drop like it's hot.'_

_No one laughed._

_'We want to extend the deadline,' Lee said. Always_ we _, always_ us. _Cullen rarely needed to speak in these meetings, though his presence was often required, regardless. He preferred it that way, liked to let Lee do what she did best. 'An extension is not unreasonable. We have never missed a date, never pushed a performance and we all know,' she added, leaning forward slightly. 'That my star is the biggest star you have, so let's not fuck around.'_

_The man at the end of the table had been silent too. Like Cullen, he had people to speak for him so it meant something when the president of the label inclined his head and nodded once._

_Lee smiled bright and sharp, glancing at Morrigan. 'Wonderful. Then let's move on to royalty negotiation, shall we?'_

_*_

_Madeline became more unreasonable than ever._

_Cullen often regretted his outburst, if only for the fact that he had underestimated how much Madeline would withhold his time with Sophia, how much she would truly keep her from him. It didn't take long for her swagger to return, for her to get that unimpeachable sense of dark confidence back whenever they spoke, but beneath it, there was something truly hostile now and he knew he’d caused it, no matter how justified he was._

_She was no longer playfully cruel. Madeline had been hurt by what he'd said and he knew it couldn't stand between them. They were headed to court in a battle that would spill two decades worth of secrets across the world in paper and ink, in articles summed up in 280 characters._

_Come May, he could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen Sophia that year and it caused him distress that he couldn't even voice, such was the depth of it. The knowledge that he was being punished for standing up for himself, it tormented him no end._

_But he functioned. He functioned well, couldn’t make himself slow and grieve, could not stop moving because if he stopped this time, he was not sure he could ever get started again._

_No matter how he tried to give it a chance, he didn’t_ like _the stunningly designed townhouse. At best, the place felt like a hotel to him. Lacking in ties, absent of roots or good memories. Lacking in the belief that he would ever_ make _good memories there, it was cold and hollow, aesthetically empty._

_He tried to pretend he did not resent the bracelet that Fenris had been constantly improving and working on. The tracking device he'd agreed to wear was a necessity. He wore it all day, although sneakily removing it sometimes at night, just so he could breathe easier._

_He wasn't wearing it the night he awoke from a pulse pounding nightmare to find a man hovering over him, touching him, pulling back the covers he was tangled in._

_*_

_Briala returned with her unit, sweeping for prints but there were none. Fenris was compiling a profile on the man who was stalking Cullen. Worse than the horror of awaking to a stranger's invasive touch, worse than the shock of it, was what inevitably came_ after _._

 _Every time something like this happened, security tightened even more; serpentine contractions that removed a little more freedom. He loved Fenris, he loved him so much there weren't words for it, but he_ hated _needing security._

_'Maybe it slipped off,' he lied weakly and Fenris just shook his head, disappointed._

_‘Just move in with one of us,' his friend pleaded quietly after a while of them both staring at the bracelet, black and narrow, innocuous to the naked eye. 'Or we'll move in with you into the townhouse, once I make it safer. Whatever you want.'_

_He thought of their hard won freedom, of Lee's beautiful place and her room of shoes in Kensington. Yes, he had a room there, so did Fenris, but that was_ her _penthouse. Fenris's place was barely big enough for him and though Cullen would have felt comfortable living there, the simplicity of it reassuring, he knew his friend would worry about hurting him sometimes. That there was a reason he had that small place, all alone._

 _'I promise, I'm fine,' he said, determined to make it_ true.

_*_

_Concerned about the threat extending to Madeline and potentially even Sophia, Fenris insisted they move out of London and into Kent. Madeline's reaction was just short of nuclear and despite this very likely being the same man who'd_ hurt _her that awful night, she remained adamant that Cullen was overreacting, that he was moving them away to punish her. Her state of mind was unpredictable, worse than he'd ever seen her since Sophia was born._

_Cullen filled the new house with toys for Sophia, filled her room with the loveliest furniture he knew she'd adore; princess bed and all, but Madeline refused to let him go there to help her decorate it. Refused to let him see her at all as punishment._

_He felt like he was drifting out to sea, constantly low. The deadline for the album loomed with nothing to show for it. He had performances coming up, but that was literally all he had to look forward to anymore. Food had no taste, there seemed no point in waking up and any energy he had went into breathing, into existing._

_Izzy was trying to cheer him up in a club one night by telling incredibly lewd disaster stories and he thought he was doing a decent job of faking laughter when a group of three sat down, kissing Izzy by way of greeting._

_'Oh, hey!' Krem greeted Cullen, opting to shake his hand instead of a kiss. 'Hey, didn't see you there, man.'_

_'He's lurking,' Izzy bemoaned, offering Fenris another beer which he refused. Lee was out with Josie and Rosalie for the night, leaving Fenris with Cullen, Izzy tagging along with half of fucking London._

_'How've you been?' Cullen asked, politely ignoring Izzy as the three he recognised as roadies from_ Fully Charged _sat down in the VIP section._

_'Pretty good,' Krem answered as one of them, Dalish, climbed into Isabela's lap and started making out with her. 'We're on Izzy's detail now, working a lot of shows with her.'_

_'Oh, you're not with—'_

_Krem snorted. 'Not a fucking chance. After what he did, no way. Bastard probably replaced us in ten seconds, but still.' He shook his head, looking down at his beer. 'Enough's enough.'_

_‘Gonna do a sweep,' Fenris announced, but the way he said it and the way he'd been watching that bartender with the pretty eyes made Cullen smirk knowingly._

_'You do that,' he said, turning his attention back to Krem, who gave Cullen a friendly smile._

_'What about you? All I see is your face everywhere, hear your songs. You're doing good, eh?'_

_Cullen shrugged. He knew it came off as arrogant, but he didn't have the energy for anything else. 'Can't complain. You uh,' he cleared his throat, chest tightening in warning. 'Still see Dorian at all?'_

_He was glad Fenris wasn't there, probably wouldn't even have asked in the presence of his friend, but he couldn't stop himself. He still thought of Dorian so much, even though it made his heart hurt._

_Krem's expression fell. 'No. Not at all, actually. I tried to call him a bunch, but he changed his number. Didn't wanna go round there and invade, you know? What that fucker did_ _…' he trailed off, looking to the side._

_'Yeah,' Cullen agreed, back teeth grinding. Clubs sometimes played those songs, remixes here and there, same way they did with some of Cullen's. It was always like a knife to the gut hearing one, so he couldn't even imagine how Dorian must have felt. 'Fucking horrific thing to do.'_

_'I still speak to Sera and Lana, his friends,' Krem went on, now determinedly looking down at the bottle. 'They don't live with him anymore, but they said he's doing better. Than he was, anyway.'_

_'He lives alone?'_

_'I think he's looking for a roommate though,' Krem said. His friend reached over and tapped his shoulder, saying something that the club music obscured. 'Yeah, sure. We're gonna get another round, you want anything?' he offered, frowning when his gaze landed back on Cullen. 'Uh, Cullen?'_

_*_

_'No.'_

_'I'll agree to whatever you want.'_

_'No. It's too dangerous, plus your townhouse is finally ready, all the extra security is in place.'_

_Cullen carefully swallowed down how much he hated that word._

_'I don't like it there.'_

_They both sighed._

_'Then we'll find somewhere else.'_

_'I hate being alone.'_

_'So live with us. Move in with one of us, whatever you want.'_

_Cullen did his best to parse what he needed to say, aware that he sounded like an ungrateful child. 'Maybe_ _… I want something new.'_

_Fenris, who had remained silent up until then, simply slanted a knowing brow. 'Cullen.'_

_'What? What is it?' Lee asked, looking between the two of them while she made tea in her spacious kitchen._

_Fenris sighed,_ tiny _smile at the corner of his mouth which Cullen clung to, hoped meant he would show solidarity._

_'Nothing.'_

_Irritably, Leliana stirred her tea too hard, spilling it. 'Cullen, you're one of the most famous singers in the_ world _. You can't just_ get _a roommate. It would be a disaster!'_

_'You don't know that.'_

_'How would we even audition people? Vet people? Screen them to make sure they weren't undercover reporters?' She took a steadying breath, giving them their mugs, sliding into her chair. She wore a pastel pink silky dressing down, Cullen's old t-shirt and underwear beneath and when a man walked from her bedroom to the front door, she gave him a sweet smile and a wave. When he was gone, the smile vanished and she looked sternly at Cullen. '_ That _is different! They sign NDA's!'_

_Hands around the hot mug, he said, ‘I’m really struggling lately.'_

_'I know.’ She sounded patient, but behind that patience was many years' worth of compiled concern and dread anticipation of Cullen going off the deep end. 'And however we can help, we will, but this—'_

_'I think it'll be OK.'_

_Lee glared at Fenris while Cullen beamed._

_'_ What?'

_Unrepentant, Fenris drank his tea and shrugged. 'I think it'll be OK. We could trial it out, at least.'_

_Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. 'Why?'_

_'Well, mostly because we won't have to_ audition _anyone, for starters.'_

_'You have someone in mind then?'_

_Cheeks getting a_ tiny _bit warm, Cullen nodded._

_Leliana watched him, breathing through her nose, nostrils flaring. 'Please tell me it's not Harry's ex.'_

_'He's looking for a roommate.'_

_'_ Cullen _!' she groaned._

_'Oh, come on,' Fenris said. 'It's not that bad. This is someone who knows the music business, who's been exposed to everything we have. There are way worse choices out there and he's the last person who'd go to the press, too.'_

_'He's the YouTube kid, for fuck's sake!' Lee burst out, but then seemed to immediately regret it. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I just meant in terms of publicity.'_

_'I won't be_ advertising _it,' Cullen said firmly. 'I just want_ _…'_

_'What?' she encouraged with gentle exasperation when he trailed off._

_'A bit of normality, as normal as we ever get anyway. I just want to go back somewhere at the end of the day and not be alone. I love you guys more than life itself, but I want_ _…' he worried at his bottom lip. 'I want something more, maybe. Something a bit new.'_

_Slowly, she said, 'Putting aside everything else for a moment, the backbone of my concern is that you're doing this because you're hoping for a relationship.'_

_'I'm not. That's not it.'_

_Even Fenris looked doubtful at that._

_'Love,' Lee said, lowering her gaze, eyes never leaving his. 'You don't have the best track record with these kinds of things. You could befriend him in other ways.'_ Normal ways _, he knew she meant. 'You could get to know him first, while staying here with me.'_

_'I really want a roommate.'_

_'Why?'_

_'I hate being alone. I hate driving the course of my own life while it never crosses another's. I want something new. I'll agree to whatever you say, work this however you want and Fenris is right, we can do it as a trial.'_

_'You promise it won't affect work? The album is going to go overdue, despite the extension.'_

_'I think it'll help, being in a different space, one that I don't have to create myself and yeah, I promise it won't affect work.'_

_Leliana rubbed her eyes. 'Then yes, we can talk about it.'_

_*_

_Dorian Pavus opened the door distractedly, phone in hand, but his smile was polite and Cullen took a moment to realise that this was the closest they'd ever been without a door_ between _them._

_'Hi,' he said. 'Come in.'_

_Cullen stepped inside. The place was warmly lit, full of natural light, lovely open flow. It was clean and artfully put together and the furniture was cheap and cheerful, nothing in extravagance, but it was_ lived in _, it was loved. He tasted lavender and that fresh cotton smell from the washing machine in the kitchen, which was laid out to be in the centre of things, a living area over by the double floor length windows in the corner. Another corner had a dining area and the two at the back led to rooms, bathroom and bedrooms most likely. It was contained and warm, but spacious and breathable._

 _Cullen fucking_ loved _it._

_'This is amazing,' he said, slipping his jacket off and folding it over his arm. 'Gorgeous place.'_

_Dorian was giving him a funny kind of look, a kind of wary smile and Cullen wondered what he was doing wrong, or maybe Dorian was naturally wary. He'd always been on edge, every single time Cullen had ever clapped eyes on him, so that made sense._

_'Thanks. Uh, take a seat?'_

_'Sure, thanks.'_

_They sat at the dining table._

_'So,' Dorian said, rifling through a few pieces of paper to find Cullen's application. 'Tell me about yourself?'_

_Cullen laughed, only a tiny bit nervous because fair enough, he hadn't expected Dorian to recognise him in the sense of, "_ Oh, it's you who was constantly staring at me!" _but Dorian didn't actually seem to recognise him at all and there was something fucking_ wonderful _about that, the way he didn't seem to_ care _that Cullen was famous. Was treating him like a normal person._

 _'OK, well.' He cleared his throat. 'Cullen Rutherford, uh. I'm very clean and tidy, but I'm happy with creative chaos if that's your_ _…' he glanced around - everything was very tidy. 'If you like that, though looking at the place, I can see that's not really a theme.' Dorian smiled, polite and wary still but there was something a bit more genuine that time. Cullen pushed on, inexperienced with having to explain himself, to_ describe _himself, at least not since he became famous. 'I'm twenty eight, I've lived in London for nine years. Spent the last few years alone and uh.' He swallowed. 'Yeah, just wanted a roommate. I don't do well alone.'_

 _Oh for_ God _'s sake._

 _'Ah,' he said, smiling to compensate and seriously, what was_ wrong _with him? He was good at this, at speaking to people and keeping his defences up. Christ, he'd_ trained _for it. 'That's not_ _… what I mean is, I work better, I_ write _better when there's noise. Other noise. Not like a metronome. People noise, noise that I know isn't someone breaking in or_ _…'_

_He exhaled roughly and now even Dorian was biting down a smile. Cullen grinned wryly, rolling his eyes._

_'OK. Do-over,' he said, giving up. 'I'm Cullen Rutherford and I'm a total moron, but,' he added quickly. 'I won't mess with your fancy towels and I'll pay the rent on time. Plus,’ he glanced at the kitchen hopefully. ‘I'm good at cooking.'_

_Dorian laughed and Cullen found himself helplessly doing the same, tension seeping away even as a new kind made itself known right in the core of his feelings because_ _…_

_Because Dorian was so fucking beautiful when he laughed._

_'Oh, you are? I'm not great at it myself.'_

_Cullen nodded, not trusting himself to speak lest heartfelt_ offers _to cook for him for all eternity come spilling out._

_'Well,' Dorian said, looking down at the application, smile fading, fingers tapping on the table. 'You seem pretty normal compared to the rest. Shall I show you around?'_

_He led Cullen around the loft, showing him the bedroom that was up for rent. It was_ bedroom _sized, normal sized. Reminded him of his old room as a kid, even. Some old furniture in there and a bed that was maybe a little too small for Cullen, but he didn't care. He loved it, love the feel of it._

 _He loved_ all _of it. The bathroom, the tiny glimpse of Dorian's room he got, layout of everything was like_ _… like coming_ home _. Cullen found himself dreading Dorian turning him away._

_'What do you think?'_

_'I really like it,’ Cullen said, biting down hard on his natural (mental) enthusiasm within._

_That seemed to make Dorian happy. 'I do too,’ he said, looking around with undeniable fondness. ‘Well, wanna move in?’_

_*_

‘So,’ Cullen ended heavily, voice shaking. ‘It was me. It was my fault. I put the idea into Harry’s head about the album and I… I wrote that song about you and I knew who you were when we met because…’ Cullen croaked gently, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes. ‘Because I liked you and I was drawn to you.’

The engine of the van was steady and constant, taking them somewhere awful, but other than that, it was silent. He waited, no trace of doubt that Dorian would put a brave face on it, that he’d say it didn’t matter for now, but that he would be _upset,_ hurt and betrayed. It was everything Cullen had been holding inside him since the day he’d gone to interview at Dorian’s loft, now _their_ loft. Their home, their place of safety and happiness.

Jassen kept a tactful distance, sorting through whatever was in the pouch, doing God only knew what, but Cullen dared hope it was something smart.

Dorian had been quiet throughout, holding both of Cullen’s hands with a strength that never wavered.

‘I just,’ Cullen sighed, shaking his head. ‘I wanted you to know everything. That’s everything I didn’t tell you and I’m so, _so_ sorry, baby.’ His voice cracked, stress and strain pressing down from above, making everything inside him feel like it was on the verge of splintering.

‘Cullen,’ Dorian said softly when there was an opening. ‘I already knew that you knew who I was, I figured that part out.’

Cullen nodded. Of course he had, Dorian was so smart.

‘Not the rest though.’

Dorian moved close enough that he was half in Cullen’s lap, wincing in the darkness when he moved his leg and Cullen helped him, welcomed any measure of closeness then, despite expecting censure, _deserving_ censure.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ he said, bringing their foreheads together and holding, despite the constant steady movement of the van. ‘But I need to say something.’

Cullen tried so hard to be ready, wanted not to crack, not this time. ‘OK.’

Dorian was close enough that he could feel his breath, smell his skin. How much he’d sweated that day, how he must have suffered because Cullen might have been expecting the worst, but he knew Dorian loved him. Could only imagine their situations reversed. 

‘You didn’t make Harry write that album about me. You didn’t do that.’

‘Dorian,’ Cullen ground out. ‘I _did_ , he got the idea from me, it was clear when he—’

‘Darling, stop. Just stop. This is _silly_. You know it’s silly. Showing someone a picture of a gun does not make you culpable it they go out and shoot someone.’

‘But I came to you and I-I didn’t say that I knew you, that I knew who you were.’

‘I would have turned you away if you had,’ Dorian said, stroking his hair gently and Cullen did not know what he’d ever done to be this _lucky_ , to earn the love of this man. ‘No, Cullen, stop, I see where you’re going. I _know_ where you’re going with this and I need you to understand,’ he whispered, bringing their lips close enough to brush. He heard Dorian swallow as he lifted Cullen’s hand to his heart, pressed it there and said, ‘I need you to _feel_ me when I say… I don’t _care_ about the road that brought us together. I don’t care. You are not a bad person. You’re just not. If I achieve one thing in my life, it will be convincing you of that. I don’t care if you loved me from afar, I don’t care that you wrote that song about me. I fucking _love_ that song. I only care that you told me, because secrets are locked doors and all our doors should be wide open.’

He kissed Cullen gently. Just a press of his lips, just that touch point of perfection, enough to soothe Cullen and ground him and it felt like forgiveness.

‘You’re not angry?’

‘I’m not even remotely angry. Do you believe me?’

Cullen felt Dorian’s heart beneath his hand, felt the steady, warm beat of it. ‘I… believe you.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’

They clung to one another then, Cullen burying his face in Dorian’s shirt and jacket, wishing they were safely home. Wishing he could make dinner, take care of Dorian and protect him always.

Cullen knew he would, then. Knew that when those doors opened, no matter what came, he was going to protect Dorian to his utmost. His friends had protected him all his life and now, without them, he would not fail.

The van slowed and then stopped, Dorian’s hand gripping his harder now and Jassen moved forward, all signs of the pouch completely out of view.

‘Keep quiet, don’t panic,’ Jassen said, gaze fixed on the doors. ‘Get ready.’

Cullen kissed Dorian again, lips to forehead before he moved to cover his boyfriend as footsteps approached the double doors.

He was ready to be strong. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal update schedule will resume and remember to toss a comment to your writer, oh archive of plentyyyyy (no, that's never getting old). Thank you for all your support and kindness thus far. 💜💜💜


	31. Cellar Door, What's The Case? (Are You Locked In Your Shadow's Embrace?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but bigger ones forthcoming, I mostly just wanted to re-establish my weekend update schedule.  
> 💜💜💜

It was shockingly civilised.

Without Danarius, who was presumably off somewhere getting his bloody stump of a hand seen to, the people who guided Dorian, Cullen and Jassen out of the van were cautious and _polite_. They had guns, sure. Weapons aimed, mostly at Jassen, but those who bid them step out slowly with their hands raised, were undeniably _nice_.

Or maybe Dorian was losing his fucking mind.

'This way,' one of them said, gesturing towards a large building in the middle of what seemed to be an industrial estate. It was dead quiet, pitch black and utterly freezing. 'No sudden movements please.'

'Where are we?' Dorian asked, teeth chattering. Jassen shot him a withering look, more _you idiot_ than any kind of true reproach.

'Move along,' the polite man repeated.

They let Cullen half carry Dorian towards the entrance. As they walked, he catalogued everything the way Fenris might. How many men there were around them (eleven), other buildings (six units, all locked up and dark) and then he took in what he could about the place they were headed into.

It looked entirely standard for a warehouse, grim and foreboding, metal sides and large front shutters for vehicles to move in and out. They were guided into a side door, walking blindly and Dorian forced himself to trust that they weren't just going to be gunned down as soon as they were inside, because if they'd wanted to do that, the van would have been the easier method, surely.

'This one's hurt,' someone pointed out. 'What's your name?'

He fought the irrational urge to lie, deny them information, even though it was pointless.

'Dorian.'

'Through there, Dorian.'

In they went, leaving the outside world behind. Within, the air was still. Metal, oil, cement. Machinery and man-made dust. Dorian's spine prickled. Voices from ahead signalled others and when they stepped out into the wide open space, Dorian could just about see in the gloom that there were vehicles parked up around the edge, men in the centre.

'I don't _care_ what he said, it's not feasible. Bad enough this shit with the—'

Cullen's intake of breath was sudden and loud enough to interrupt the men speaking, the kind that had Dorian's spine crawling in dread anticipation and they stopped dead.

' _What_?' he whispered insistently as they held one another in the darkness. 'What is it?'

'Light!' a man barked.

'No,' Cullen said, low and disbelieving.

'We were told no lights until sub-level, sir.'

'I said, _light_!'

The warehouse flooded with dim grey light from above. Cullen moved Dorian behind him a fraction and it was the first time that Dorian realised how close Jassen was standing to Cullen.

'Oh, fuck _me!_ ' a man snarled - well into his forties, short dark hair streaked with grey - patently furious. He was staring at Cullen and Cullen stared right back.

'Samson.'

Dorian was close enough to see Jassen place a warning hand on Cullen's forearm and it seemed to work because whatever Cullen was about to say next got lodged in his throat.

Samson grabbed the man nearest to him, hauling him close by the collar.

'Who the _fuck_ neglected to tell me that _this_ was the shit-storm I was ordered into?'

'Sir, we were instructed to deliver them, nothing more.'

Samson snarled, but he didn't hurt the man, just shoved him away and gave Cullen an aggravated _up and down,_ gaze darkening when it landed on Jassen, right after the blank look Dorian got.

'Fucking hell, what a night to answer my phone,' he groaned, rubbing his face. 'Get them downstairs. I'll follow.'

'This one's injured, sir.'

When he looked up, Samson seemed more detached, though no less frustrated. 'Which one? They're all covered in blood.'

'Dorian,' polite guy pointed out.

'Dorian… _Pavus_?' Samson said slowly, seeming - if possible - to fill with more anger than before, pivoting to glare at the unfortunate messenger. 'This is _Dorian_ fucking _Pavus_ , is it?'

'Yes, sir.'

Samson glared for a full five seconds, jaw twitching before he laughed, entirely humourless and furious. 'Christ, any other fucker want to pop up, do they? _Fuck_!' His voice echoed like a whip crack around the vast room. He shot Jassen a nasty look. 'At least you I was _expecting_. Where's Cohen?'

Cullen blurted out, 'You knew they wanted him?'

' _Quiet_ ,' Jassen breathed but Samson had heard and he gave Cullen a frankly impatient look, mixture of pity and irritation.

'I'd listen to the killer, if I were you.'

Cullen was gripping Dorian's arm so hard it hurt. 'Did you… were you _involved_ when they took him?'

It was painful to hear, each word was wrought from his throat. Dorian watched Samson close his eyes, knew confirmation when he saw it and though he didn't know this man, Cullen clearly did.

'You _bastard_.'

'It's complicated.'

'He was _seventeen_ and I came to you every day, every day and you—'

'Keep your mouth _shut_ , Rutherford,' Samson snapped. 'You've no idea what you've walked into here.' He turned to address the man whose collar he'd grabbed. 'Get them downstairs and give Pavus medical attention. Danarius will want them fit, I suppose.'

'Separate, or—?'

'Let them stay together, it'll keep 'em calm,' Samson said, turning away dispassionately, headed for a small office. 'Oh, and get the doc to do an internal scan on the dragon. Never know what he's got inside him.'

Cullen's upsurge of anger had him starting forward. 'You fucking piece of shit, how _could_ you—? _'_

'Cullen!' Jassen warned, urgency in it that Cullen couldn't ignore that time. He held Cullen back as Samson looked away, uninterested.

'Come on,' Dorian said, helping Jassen to hold Cullen. 'I can't walk without you.'

'This way,' someone said and then they were moved towards the back of the warehouse, to a set of concrete steps leading _down_. Dorian caught the scent of mildewy water, of rotting leather. He didn't want to go down there, but they had no other option that didn't result in _bullets_.

'Stay close to me.'

Cullen helped Dorian walk and Jassen helped Cullen, a wonky triangle headed down into depths unknown.

*

Every set of steps they went down had Dorian's nerves tightening as if cranked. The descent seemed to go on forever. Down and down, winding square staircase and each step was _agony_ for his leg, thigh straining, body shaking, only upright because of Cullen who, halfway through gave a frustrated grunt and _picked Dorian up_ , fucking bridal style, carrying him the rest of the way.

Dorian was too scared to even protest. No banter, no denial or teasing about thresholds or whatever might come spilling out were they in anything resembling _normal_ circumstances.

There were more steps leading down, Dorian realised, but the men leading them turned abruptly right into a door branching off into a floor level, so Dorian never got to see how deep it really went.

Away from the stairwell, they were guided through a corridor, the air warmer though decidedly more stale. Dorian was still caked in blood and mud from the field, hurting all over even despite Cullen carrying him.

'In here,' polite guy said, as they came to a halt. He indicated to one of the many rooms splintering off from the hallway and within, it was brightly lit. 'Doc'll fix up any injuries.'

'Why?' Cullen asked, still holding Dorian like he was a princess.

Polite guy, all kitted out in SWAT gear, was unmoved. 'In you go, please.'

'Why fix us up if he's just going to—'

Jassen gave Cullen a deeply unsubtle nudge into the room and Cullen caught his stagger, went inside, jaw working.

'Hello,' a young man said, offering a bland smile that didn't touch his eyes. The door closed behind them with a loud click and Cullen set Dorian down very carefully on one of the hospital beds. The room was like a mini-surgery and there were two others hovering at the end, armed guards standing either side of the room, impassive as furniture. 'So,' the man said, pulling on gloves. 'Who's hurt?'

*

There was something truly awful about not being able to make any choices, namely how insidiously _soothing_ it was. Dorian thought he'd be up in arms about having someone request he remove his trousers to better take a look at the wound on his thigh, but when Jassen nodded once, he did it. He sat there while the young medic cleaned the wound, properly packed and dressed it. He then set it in a kind of bendable but highly tensile splint that wrapped around the top of his thigh like a garter, ending at his knee. It was pliable and cushioned, cleverly designed and when he'd finished, he gave Dorian a shot of something afterwards for the pain, which melted away instantly.

'Should hold up fairly well,' the young medic said, nodding at Dorian who then hopped down, feeling like a child. He gingerly tested it, finding he could put weight on it well enough, though definitely not to run.

A horribly insistent question about all this _help_ nagged at Dorian, but he knew by now that any attempt to ask about it would have Jassen glaring.

'What about you, Cullen?' the medic asked, placid expression lightening somewhat. 'Big fan, by the way. _Horizon_ is one of my all-time favourite albums.'

Dorian held Cullen's hand, silently offering what comfort he could to his boyfriend. Cullen, whose state of mind Dorian had yet to assess, seemed lost for words until he shook himself and muttered, 'I'm not hurt.'

'Are you sure? Looks like you've sprained your ankle there.'

Cullen was about to say something angry and Jassen saw it too, stepped in. 'Well, _I'm_ hurt,' he said, groaning exaggeratedly, clutching his stomach. 'Might be dying of these wounds, struck deep by the grotesque machinery of evil men, you never can tell.'

The medic snorted, gave Jassen a rather familiar look of disapproving amusement. 'You're fine,' he said flatly.

'He was shot,' Dorian said.

The medic squinted. 'He's cracking jokes. Usually means he's fine.'

'Come on, where's your Hippocratic oath? At least give me a painkiller, a plaster, even.'

The medic sighed. 'Show me, then.'

Jassen made a big deal of sitting on the bed, yanking his torn, bloodied t-shirt off. It was all very energetic, very obnoxious. Dorian wondered if it was to detract from _them_ somehow, if they were meant to use this time. Beside the bed was a trolley covered with sharp, stainless steel implements, maybe—'

'I wouldn't go for those,' the medic said calmly, making Dorian's heart clench to be caught looking. 'They'll give you better weapons later, most likely.’

'What does that mean?'

But the medic wasn't listening anymore, he was staring at Jassen's chest, eyes wide.

'What did this?'

Jassen grinned. 'I know, right? Got shot up with the _good_ shit.'

The young medic touched Jassen's collarbone, something reverent about his gaze. 'This is fractured here but… but it's healing at an accelerated rate. I've never seen anything like it. Are you saying you were injected with something?'

'Yup.'

The medic's eyes flashed with hunger. 'Do you still have it?'

Jassen gave a tiny shrug.

' _Jassen.'_

Seeming content to wait, Jassen remained silent, legs kicking against the side of the stretcher bed like a kid. Eventually, the medic huffed and looked over his shoulder.

'Get out,' he told the guards with an authority that belied his youth. 'I want time with the tall one.'

The guards glanced at one another. 'How long, sir?'

'Ten minutes,' the medic said, sounding irritable and not at all like he was going to engage in pleasurable sexual congress. 'Outside, move it.'

'Would you like one of us to restrain him, sir?'

'Out.'

They went where they were told without so much as a backwards glance. Dorian noticed that the door opened by thumbprint scanner, similar to the doors Fenris had installed. When it clicked shut again, the medic faced Jassen with a level of impatience that Dorian rarely saw in those so young and he _was_ young, early twenties, max.

'Hand it over.'

Jassen's smile was long gone, but his legs were kicking still. 'I want a favour.'

'Hand it over or I'll get them back in here—'

'And what? They won't do shit, not if he wants us to _dance_ later. So again, I want a favour.'

'I can't get them out,' the medic stated flatly.

'You can get _something_ out, though.'

'What?'

'A broken phone.'

'They're not traceable this far underground.'

'Exactly. You go up to the surface and leave it there. I'll give you the formula that will make you invaluable to Danarius, especially now he’s short a hand. Fair?'

'Not remotely. Ugh, fine. Hand it over.'

'Dorian,' Jassen said, never taking his eyes from the medic. 'Give it to him.'

Dorian warily fished his broken phone out of his shoe and handed it over.

The medic accepted it, pocketing the shattered device quickly. 'Not got anything better? No trackers?'

'No.'

The medic gave him a speculative once over. 'No? Unlike you not to have something useful _tucked_ away inside. You know, they ordered me to do an internal scan, maybe—'

'That's _all_ ,' Jassen said firmly, hopping down off of the bed and reaching into the front of his pants, withdrawing the needle-less syringe, but _not_ the cannister. 'Here you go.'

The medic took it and carefully set it aside, looking back, flushed with excitement. 'I want to kiss him, too' he added boldly, nodding at Cullen. 'He's gorgeous and I love his music.'

'Nope.'

The medic scowled. 'What if I wasn't asking? You have any idea how risky it is, taking this up there? I've still got a few minutes and it should look real, shouldn't it?'

'I will peel your face off by the lips if you touch him,' Jassen said, quite pleasantly. 'And then you'll be the medic with no face. Killer back-story for a future villain, no doubt, but _good luck_ trying to score.'

'You're a prick,' the medic said, shooting Cullen a regretful look. 'Well, rough him up, then, at least. What a waste.'

Dorian had not stopped holding Cullen's hand the entire time, willing him to stay quiet, trying to give him what love and comfort he could through the simple act of touch.

'Danarius will never believe I let you near him. Better I rough _you_ up.'

The medic turned, lips parted. 'Oh, for fuck's sake!'

'Yeah, sorry,' Jassen said, wincing oh so falsely. 'Just a little slap, how's that?'

'Your slaps _hurt_.'

'I'll be gentle.'

Glaring, the medic said, 'Very funny. God, all right, just hurry it up.'

He stood there, visibly bracing himself. Jassen moved so fast, Dorian had almost forgotten what the man was capable of. The impact landed _hard,_ cracked like a whip and there was no way that didn't hurt.

The medic fell to the ground clutching his face, shrieking. The doors clicked open, guards came inside, though not with any degree of immediacy.

'Sir?'

'Get them out!' the young medic yelled. ' _Fucker_ hit me!'

Jassen snort-laughed. 'Should know not to touch what isn't yours, Hadrian.'

'Right,' the guard sighed, more resigned than angry. 'Are they cleared for holding?'

'Yes, they're fine,' Hadrian spat, getting to his knees and Dorian saw a thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, didn't know blood _could_ be drawn from a slap. 'Get them out of my sight!'

The guard nodded at the door. 'Come on.'

'Can I get my—?' Dorian asked, pointing to his filthy trousers and shoes on the floor, but the guard shook his head.

'Clean clothes in holding. Come on, please.'

The three of them were taken to the very end of the otherwise empty hallway, a great distance from where they'd left Hadrian. Dorian wondered if they could turn and attack the two guards, surely Jassen could but Dorian remembered the door from the stairwell had opened with fingerprints too.

The guard on the left opened a door at the very end. 'Here you go.'

Dorian wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe a _cell_. Maybe something grim and dark with chains on the wall, blood on cobblestones and rats scurrying around.

It reminded him of a cheap hotel room.

'Shower, clean up, change. Try not to do anything _else_ stupid,' the guard warned, speaking mostly to Jassen.

The door locked behind them again. Cullen helped Dorian over to the nearest bed of four, though walking wasn't too bad with the splint. He eased down onto a flimsy kind of _cot_ with basic covers and a crappy looking pillow. There was a shower in the corner and a chest of drawers. The lights from above were fluorescent and harsh.

'Have some water,' Jassen said, pointing to the small sink. 'I'll get clothes. They won't let you wear shoes, but you can double up on socks.'

Dorian looked around, heart pounding. There didn't seem to be any cameras, any CCTV. 'Can they hear us?'

'No,' Jassen assured him. 'Have some water and I'll explain.'

Cullen kissed Dorian's hand and then headed to the sink, filling one of the plastic cups with water and draining it twice to slake his own thirst, then refilling it and bringing it to Dorian.

'How do you feel?' he asked, smoothing his hair back.

Dorian burst out laughing, tears close at the heels of it. 'Peachy.'

Cullen managed a broken smile and kissed his forehead. Dorian drank the cool water and Jassen returned to the bed with piles of plain black clothes and, as promised, many socks.

'This is Fenris's pit,' he said without preamble. 'Or it was, a long time ago.'

'They were shut down.'

'That's right, you helped cause that,' Jassen told Cullen. 'But, over the last few years since Danarius returned from where he was in hiding, he's managed to consolidate power again. He'll re-open them soon, most likely. Now he has the police, at any rate.'

Cullen bit down a growl. 'Samson.'

'Yeah. Sorry, I forgot you two…' Jassen trailed off, looking at Cullen with a strange kind of shallow sympathy. 'Must be unpleasant.'

'He works for Danarius?'

'If he's here, yeah. They've been slowly buying back what they once owned of the police, expanding even.' He put Cullen's pile in front of him and said, 'Now, look. We're here and we're alive for two specific reasons. The first is that Danarius will be expecting Fenris to come.'

Dorian nodded and Cullen wasn't surprised, they'd both realised that much.

'The second reason,' Jassen added heavily, giving Dorian his pile. 'And why they patched you up, why we're being put in here instead of a cell, is that Danarius is likely going to put us in the ring.'

'… the ring?'

Jassen smirked bitterly. 'He has a dramatic sense of humour and I _did_ obliterate his hand. He's probably going to make us all fight and kill each other,' he added, cocking his head. 'Once Fenris arrives, at least.'

'Fenris won't come alone.'

'It won't matter. Once he's down here that'll be it.'

'Why?'

Jassen looked away. 'Get clean, change up and then I'll lay out what I can.'

'What was all that with the medic?' Cullen asked seriously.

'Hadrian is a slippery little bitch,' Jassen hissed, expression sinking into one of loathing. 'He'll run straight to Danarius and tell him all about the phone. They were expecting us to have something. This might buy us time before they find the tracker I swallowed.'

'But Danarius wants Fenris to find us, doesn't he? He wouldn't disable the tracker if he found it.'

'If he has the tracker, he controls where Fenris goes in this place. It needs to stay with us.'

'How is he so young, that Hadrian?' Dorian said, frowning slowly. 'Not much more than a kid, how is he a medic here?'

'Yeah,' Jassen shrugged, glancing at the shower area with a hint of impatience now. 'He was taken young. They're useful, sometimes. Put them among the bigger ones, they make excellent spies. No one suspects the snivelling little kid, do they? This one was lucky, had an aptitude for medicine so he didn't age out, though he will,' he added, smiling with smug satisfaction as he walked over to the shower, turning it on. 'When he touts the syringe as healing formula and all he's got is the blue.'

Dorian had questions, he had _thousands_ more fucking questions but he was still caked in mud, he was disgusting all over and they'd been told to clean up so when Cullen helped him over to the shower, he bit his tongue and let his boyfriend wash away what he could without interfering with the splint and bandages.

*

Mostly clean and fully changed, Dorian watched as Jassen stared in the mirror at his own wounds. At the angry red holes, barely closed.

'I would have died,' he observed with casual interest. 'Thanks again.'

'You're welcome,' Cullen said awkwardly. 'What do we need to be ready for?'

'Torture, mental and physical. He knows you two are together, so,' Jassen sighed, turned away from the mirror. 'I'd try and prepare for that, but nothing ever really prepares you. I'm fairly sure he's going to put us in the ring, ninety percent certain he'll wait for Fenris, though.'

Cullen watched Jassen closely, hair damp, black t-shirt and jogging bottoms just _slightly_ too small for him. 'Why?'

Jassen said, 'I think he's going to _activate_ him.'

The emphasis held Cullen's attention raptly. 'What does that mean?'

'Fenris was Danarius's absolute favourite. Towards the end, he was training him to be more than just a pit fighter. He was making him into a bodyguard. He wasn't going to let him age out, everyone knew it.'

'He was a fighter,' Cullen said, frowning deeply. 'They told us when they found him, he was with the other fighters.'

'I wasn't there. I know he used the compound on Fenris; half memory adjustment, half mind control, it takes months to properly kick in. They only did that for those they deemed worthy enough to _star up_ or those they couldn't control, at least at first.'

'They didn't use it on you?'

Jassen shrugged brazenly. 'I didn't need it. I liked fighting and I was good at it. I _wanted_ to be good enough so I didn't age out.'

'By age out you mean… killed?'

'Twenty was usually the cut off. Understand, this wasn't _my_ pit. I saw Fenris, _the wolf_ as he was announced, a handful of times. I fought him twice and barely survived, but everyone talked about him. Everyone knew him. Danarius and the pit bosses could control him well enough with the compound but I heard talk of sleeper training. A trigger word with a subliminal construct so he could always control him, always get him back.'

Jassen's wrist clicked when he rotated it over and over, unconscious movement as he paced and talked. 'When the pits collapsed, all the higher-ups scattered. Danarius fled, couldn't take his _little wolf_ in time and had to go into hiding while a cop in the Met sought to make a name for herself. I don't know how Danarius didn't see it coming, but the whole syndicate was brought to its knees. Billions lost in money laundering for bigger, badder people, terrorists mostly. Danarius fled to prevent them catching him, not the police, but he still had her killed, Meredith Stannard.'

Cullen looked at Jassen evenly. ' _You_ killed her.'

Jassen smiled, proud. 'It was my first job direct from Danarius when he came back, four years ago. I'd been trained up by then, surviving well among those in the lower echelons who were unimportant enough to slip through the cracks and come back to take what they could. I killed Stannard, made it look like stress induced suicide and they installed a vending machine in her place. Raleigh Samson.'

'Was he… was he always on the take?'

'I don't know.'

'Did he willingly keep Fenris from us?'

Jassen remained blank. 'I don't know, ask him if you get the chance.'

'OK,' Dorian said, wanting very much to focus on the here and now. 'So, how do we get out of here?'

'Fenris will find this place. He'll come with Anders, with backup. He'll anticipate a trap, but that won't stop him from getting inside.'

'Danarius knows all that, though.'

'He's _counting_ on it. All he needs to do is speak the word or phrase.’

'I don't believe that. There was nothing in his file about it.'

'Why would there be? If he's wrong, Danarius has staked pretty much the entire syndicate on a gamble and that's not like him.'

'Did you ever hear it, see it activated?'

'No. It was intended for if he ever escaped which he often attempted, despite the compound.'

'I still don't believe it,' Cullen said stubbornly. 'Things like that aren't real.'

'I assure you,' Jassen said, levelling his gaze. 'They are. I don't know what the word is, but if spoken, Fenris will turn and kill everyone if commanded. You've seen him, you _know_ how lethal he is. There'll be no stopping him. Danarius just has to get Fenris near. It's part of the reason I didn't turn him over in the barn. He'd have made him kill everyone, you included.'

'So, _not_ some moral crisis?'

'I said _part_ of the reason,' Jassen told Dorian primly.

Cullen shook his head. 'Why has he waited until now? Why not years ago?'

'Fenris isn't _all_ he wants,' Jassen answered. 'The syndicate was in ruins, he had no manpower, hardly any money. He needed to build it back up again before he risked exposing himself.'

'Well, if he really has this _word_ , why not just walk past Fenris and use it? Why not call him and say it? It makes no sense!'

'You were getting to be famous by the time he returned. He couldn't just _grab_ Fenris, not while he was rebuilding. He didn't want to draw attention to himself or risk a botched attempt. Fenris is _lethal_ and Danarius is smart to be cautious. Even now, he used the Trevelyans as cover, went to huge lengths to hide his involvement in this.'

'What do the Trevelyans have to do with anything?'

The door opened and Jassen closed his mouth with a snap. Samson and two others walked inside.

*

'Well,' Samson said, nodding to himself. 'This is awkward. Can we dispense with the insults or—'

'You traitorous lowlife _fucker!_ '

'Seems not.'

'Cullen,' Dorian said, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. Dorian didn't know this man, didn't know half of what was happening, but Samson was not Danarius and for now, he was the lesser of two evils. 'That won't help anything.'

'I've come as a courtesy,' Samson said, short brown hair streaked with grey, lines around his mouth and eyes, deeply South Eastern accent giving that familiar lilt to each word. 'But by all means, speak your piece.'

Cullen bit down hard, muscles in his jaw visible working.

'No? All right. I'll save you some time and make clear that I can't be bought, reasoned with, turned, convinced or appealed to. I got no grudge against you,' he said, looking at Cullen with tired eyes. 'But I've also got no interest in helping you. I'm Danarius's man and my forces here today represent him also.'

'Bought and paid for.'

Ignoring Cullen's comment, Samson's focus moved onto Jassen, who went still. 'Danarius wants you.'

'Already?'

'Yeah. I'd brace yourself, kid. It ain't gonna be pretty.'

'N-no,' Dorian said, looking between the assassin and Samson. 'You said we could stay together.'

'I was told to split you two up an' all, but I'm _letting_ _you_ stay together. You're being moved to a secure room. Don't draw attention or you'll be put at opposite ends of this place, got it?'

Jassen feigned indignation. 'Where's _my_ last rite kindness? Don't I at least get some fucking food? You know, Uber Eats deliver McDonalds in this area now.'

Despite everything, Samson cracked a grin at that, yellow teeth and wry amusement. 'If you survive what he's gonna do to you, there'll be food in your cell. No sign of your friend yet,' he added coolly, glancing at Cullen. 'But he'll come. Everyone knows he'll come.'

Cullen tipped his chin. 'He's going to kill you all.'

Samson blinked. 'He'll try. He'll fail.'

'And you'll let Danarius take him, like you _let_ him last time?'

'I didn't _let_ anything happen,' Samson said, voice raising in clear warning. 'The whole force is corrupt. I couldn't do anything then and I can't do shit _now_ , 'cept let you spend your last few hours together. He looked away swiftly. 'Be grateful. It's more than most get.'

Cullen moved forward suddenly. Samson's entourage lifted their weapons even as Samson waved them down easily, not threatened, but it wasn't violence that Cullen had in mind

'Let Dorian go,' Cullen pleaded insistently. 'He's nothing to do with this. I know you could find a way, please. Please just get him out—'

Samson shook his head. 'What did I say about not wasting time? No one is leaving, especially not _him_.'

'Why?' Dorian asked, falsely chirpy. 'Am I important too, then? I was starting to feel a bit left out.'

'Your Dad never tell you about his business dealings with Danarius?' he dropped casually, heading for the door. 'I wouldn't go so far as to use the phrase _mortal enemies_ but it wouldn't be unreasonable, given the context. All right, up we go, time to walk without killing anyone, if we can manage it. Keep the gun on _him_ ,' he added, grinning at Jassen entirely without humour. 'He's fast.'

*

'Where are we?' Cullen asked as they walked with six other men who'd been waiting outside, also armed.

'Geographically, smack bang under the Thames,' Jassen explained and someone from behind shoved him with the tip of a semi-automatic. 'Ow! No poking, we're not on _Facebook_!'

'The Thames?' Dorian echoed, looking around.

'The place is older than you might think,' Jassen went on, heedless of further _poking_ as Samson led the way. 'Been around for hundreds of years. These are the lower levels, but the upper levels are much more showy. That's where the rings were. Where, of a weekend, the gruesome elite would come to watch people fight to the death.'

Dorian held hands with Cullen as they walked, his leg holding up well despite the injury. Everywhere was damp and cold, taste of mildew in the back of Dorian's throat. His fear had surpassed his own ability to process it a while ago and he was now firmly in a state of _need to know_ , survival mode only.

'In here,' Samson said, opening a heavy metal door and inside was the kind of room Dorian had been expecting before. A prison cell, nothing less. No bed, no sink, no toilet. Just an empty metal cube with small holes in the door, so they could breathe, he supposed. 'If you're good, I'll bring you some food.'

'What do I get if _I'm_ good?' Jassen asked, obnoxiously cheerful in a way that grated on Dorian's nerves, even if he understood _why_ he was being that way.

'Probably mutilated just _shy_ of death,' Samson answered blandly, no trace of it being a joke. 'You two get in.'

Cullen visibly paled, but when Samson gave him a light _push_ into the room, he turned halfway, Dorian ahead of him, looked back and spat in Samson's face.

Dorian yanked Cullen fully inside the cell on instinct, not knowing what to expect. Samson's eyes closed and his mouth twisted with disgust while Jassen looked on, undeniable hint of pride playing about his features.

Samson didn't get angry, he didn't explode the way Dorian expected. Just wiped it off with his sleeve and kicked the door shut with a bang.

*

'That was really fucking stupid,' Dorian chastised the moment he thought they might truly be alone. 'Christ, why did you—?'

He had no opportunity to finish, Cullen was all over him in an instant. Arms around him, lips to skin, to his face, holding him tight, holding him close. Cullen's movements were gentle and frantic, as if feeling Dorian for injuries, even though he had no new ones.

'Are you really telling me off?' he asked with a shaky laugh that had no basis in humour. 'Because, baby, I am so _mad_ at you for being here, you've no idea,' he rasped into Dorian's neck and Dorian took charge, stilled his movements and wrapped him in a hug. In that dark room, the only light coming from the holes in the door, Dorian kissed Cullen slowly, firmly. 'I feel like I'm shaking apart,' he whispered and Dorian knew it, felt every reverberation.

'I'm here, darling.'

Cullen shook his head, one palm around the back of Dorian's neck, the other over his heart. 'God, I wish you weren't, but…'

'I know. I know, it's OK.'

'I love you so much.'

Dorian could tell from how quickly Cullen was breathing, rapid little breaths, chest rising and falling drastically, that he was pulsing with adrenaline, that his fight or flight instinct was kicking in at a terrible time, clashing with _fear_ he had no way to process, no way to channel in that cell.

'We're going to be OK,' he promised Cullen, throat becoming thick. 'I'll protect you.'

'They could never withstand your bratty snark,' he said, voice shaking now and Dorian laughed despite all the doom and gloom, let out a trembling chuckle as all the madness of the last twelve hours began to crescendo within.

And maybe because they were standing still, standing alone in the dark, it had the unexpected effect of making Dorian feel as if somehow they were _safe_. Like they would be forgotten by the people who wanted to hurt them. Like Fenris would come bursting through the doors at any moment and everything would be completely fine.

'I love you so much,' he told Cullen then and Cullen let out a pained groan, pressing their foreheads together. 'Feel it, Cullen.'

'I can feel it. I'll keep you safe, somehow.'

'We'll keep _each other_ safe,' Dorian corrected sternly; deepest, darkest fear stirring within because Cullen was _absolutely_ the self-sacrificial type and it made him sick with worry that there would come a moment when his boyfriend would do something monumentally _stupid,_ in the name of protecting those he loved. 'Cullen, promise me.'

'Promise what?'

'Promise you won't leave me,' Dorian said, choosing his words carefully, even as he stroked through blond curls, rubbed his nose against Cullen's. 'I know how you are when things get tough. And I know,' he added with a gentle sigh. 'That your mind is going crazy trying to think of how to get me out, of how to keep me safe, but I need you to be strong for me and do the _unselfish_ thing.'

'Unselfish? Dorian—'

'It's selfish, Cullen,' he went on, undeterred. 'To try to remove me from the equation, as if I wouldn't die without you. As if I'd be _fine_ without you. I know it's your default, buried deep, but I need you to overcome that. I am not going _anywhere_ without you. I will not be set aside or freed without you. So, let's protect each other.'

Cullen was quiet for a long time and Dorian decided to be patient, to kiss the rough band of stubble along his jaw, stroke him like a cat and surround him with love.

'I can't put myself ahead of you.'

Dorian had been expecting that. 'How about beside you?'

'I—I can try.'

'You can do it, I know you can, and you will, because you love me and I love you and that… that means not leaving each other behind.'

Cullen made a small, muffled sound, like he was swallowing a sob

'OK.'

'Good,' Dorian praised, his movements never slowing, kisses lingering more and more where he pressed them. 'Perfect.'

A tingling, shaky lightness was moving through him, his own brand of adrenaline coming into play and he suspected it was similar to Cullen's kind, which seemed rooted in urgency and the need to touch Dorian, to hold him, and—

Oh, when had Cullen backed him into the wall? Well, that was nice, nice to take the pressure off his leg, at least. Cullen had always been strong enough to lift him, to pick him up like that, gently manhandle him in a way that Dorian adored.

Cullen's mouth moved to his neck where he sucked a deep, dangerous kind of bruise into the skin and now, _now_ Dorian's heart was doing crazy things, lit on fire by terror and fuelled by a grimly determined voice that insisted they would die down there. That they would never see daylight ever again.

'Cullen,' he said, shocked to hear the low rasp in it. Cullen looked up, but not to speak. He brought their mouths together _hard_. Dorian almost forgot all about his brilliant attempts to soothe his boyfriend, to calm him and it was… it was like Cullen's fear was contagious, was a riptide that Dorian was being dragged into. Desperate, needy love, all hot and hard and _pressing_.

Dorian kissed him back, couldn't think of doing anything else because when they were kissing, nothing seemed to matter.

'I love you,' Cullen panted, their lips touching even when he eased off to breathe. Dorian could feel the pounding rhythm of his heart, felt his own strain to match it but he and Cullen were not the same and his own heart was beating _fast_ , not hard. 'I—Dorian, I love you so much, God.'

'I know,' Dorian said, starting to feel dizzy with the absolute swirling concoction of chemicals; fear, adrenaline, love, need. Threat of death made his body all the more determined to _feel_ , to burn brightly before…

No.

No, there would be no _dying_.

Dorian fucking Pavus had not survived all that trauma, gone through all that hellish bullshit to find happiness and love… only to _lose_ it all at the behest of mental people with guns.

Dorian pushed Cullen back gently, his bottom lip tingling from the delightful attention it had been getting.

'We can't,' he panted, scrambling for control. 'Love, we _can't.'_

 _'_ I-I'm so sorry,' Cullen stammered, still holding Dorian up. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Christ, I'm sorry.'

'Oh, here come the _sorry's_ ,' Dorian joked, stroking wherever he could touch of the other man, man he loved more than life, everything shaking. 'Just, let's try and talk this through, maybe?'

Cullen kissed him again, softer that time. 'Of course.'

He helped Dorian sit down, keeping his leg stretched out. The floor was dry, at least. They sat in the corner, Cullen's back against the wall, Dorian's back against Cullen's chest, the blond's arms around his middle.

'I'm sorry,' Cullen said again. 'I didn't mean to—'

'No, I want the same,' Dorian said, turning to the side to kiss him once, the angle awkward, but no less sweet when Cullen's arms tightened a little. 'But we have to be smart.'

'One of us does.'

Dorian laughed, wished it didn't judder quite so much. His teeth were chattering slightly in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

'Do you think Jassen will be OK?'

Cullen said, 'I think he'll find a way to be OK, yeah.'

'He told us that everything he did, it was all to protect you.'

There was a pause before Cullen said, 'I don't care about him. I care about you, Fenris, Lee and the others.'

Dorian traced his fingers along Cullen's forearm, soothing patterns and swirls, just the way Cullen loved. 'He's our best chance of getting out, though.'

' _Fenris_ is our best chance of getting out.'

'What if he's right, about the trigger word?'

Silence.

'Cullen, Fenris _did_ stab Lee that night. What if he was remembering the word? Come on, we have to be prepared for it.'

'I can't…' he felt Cullen shake himself. 'I can't contemplate it. He's always protected us, always fought _for_ us.'

'I know, love. But,' he sighed. 'We have to try and plan all possible scenarios.'

More silence.

Dorian moved on. 'Tell me about Samson?'

'He's the cop from when I was younger.'

Dorian blinked, imprint of the light through air holes burning brightly against his eyelids. 'The guy… from the terrible car sex story? Raleigh?'

Cullen nodded, cheek against Dorian's as he looked down.

'I went to the station every day when Fenris went missing. Samson always told me they were looking, but…'

He trailed off.

'I'm sorry.'

'He knew about Jassen, he's the one Blackwall contacted, months ago,' Cullen told Dorian quietly. 'I just… can't believe he was in on it. He was always decent.'

'Maybe he wasn't in on it, at least back then.'

 _Maybe_ , Dorian hoped. _It was all an act and later, Samson would shrug off his guise, revealing himself as a hero._

But he didn't think that was likely. There was a horrible kind of downtrodden acceptance about Samson.

'What did he mean about my Father, you think?'

'I wouldn't trust anything from him.’

'I don't know what my Father was involved in,' Dorian said quietly, frowning into the darkness. 'Not when I think about it. Maybe he's right, I wouldn't _know_. God, this is so fucked up.'

'I wish we were home.'

'We will be,' Dorian promised him, sounded more confident than he felt. 'Where everything is… well, _relatively_ normal.'

He thought of Lana, then. He thought of Evelyn Trevelyan promising Dorian he would pay. He said nothing of it to Cullen, though. They had to focus.

'Sophia is safe, right?' Cullen asked in a voice so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

'They both are,' Dorian promised and said no more, not trusting Jassen's assurance that no one would be listening in.

Neither of them spoke for a while, simply sat there in the gloom, holding one another, being close. Dorian settled back against Cullen, closed his eyes and said, 'Sing my song to me?'

Cullen nosed gently against his jaw. 'Your song?'

Dorian smiled, eyes still closed. 'The one you wrote about me.'

'Oh. Are you sure?'

'Yeah,' Dorian said, lacing their fingers together, Cullen's arms around him warm and strong. 'I'd like to hear it, knowing it was about me.'

 _While I can_ , went unsaid.

Cullen kissed his cheek and softly, sang to him in the dark.

*

It seemed like only minutes later when the door was yanked open, the loud noise jolting Dorian into alertness. After singing, Cullen had been holding him, gently rocking them and humming the song long after the words had eased away. Light flooded the dark cell, filling it with reality once more.

It wasn't Samson who bade them up and out, some new guard, holding his automatic weapon the way they all did.

'This way,' he said and so they went. Left behind the dark cell and were taken to the stairwell, this time going up two levels. Dorian felt the presence of the gun all the way up, Cullen helping him ascend vertically which was difficult, despite the splint. He felt it keenly, the warring urge to simply _run,_ to get up, to get out and be free.

Dorian found himself _missing_ Jassen and _fuck_ if that wasn't crazy.

The walls of that level were red, hallway just as long and ominous as the one beneath. They were directed to a door, unlocked with a thumb print, same as the others.

Inside, the first thing Dorian noticed was Danarius. The man sat at a small table, steadily drinking from a tumbler with his left hand. His right arm was heavily bandaged, wrapped in all manner of protective gauze but Dorian did not miss _fingertips_ peeking out of the end. Three men hovered around it, all wearing white coats and Danarius scowled as he drank, gaze locking onto Cullen.

The next thing Dorian noticed was Jassen.

The assassin was affixed to the wall, hands above his head and pinned there with black metal clamps. He was almost unconscious, blood all over him, dripping down his chin, running from wounds covering his bare chest, pooling on the floor.

And then Dorian noticed Hadrian, the young medic, on the ground near Jassen's sock-clad feet, expression unseeing, hole between his eyes.

'Get them in here,' Danarius spat. He too was shirtless, his upper body covered in black tattoos, strange symbols and dotted ink work that Dorian couldn't make out, couldn't focus on because they were in a room with all kinds of mental shit, not least the dead kid on the floor and Cullen was very still beside him. 'Where is the formula?'

He demanded it without preamble, his voice stripped and frayed with evident pain. Danarius glared between the two of them, eyes narrowing when Cullen looked at Jassen on the wall, the assassin’s eyes rolling even as he shook his head.

'Don't listen to him!' the older man hissed, getting to his feet, unsteady but only for a moment. 'I want that fucking formula.'

Dorian did something very stupid, quite by accident. It just _happened,_ it really did.

 _'_ What,' he snorted. 'For your new hand?'

Danarius mimicked his smile in the worst way possible and Dorian wasn't ready, wasn't _prepared_ in the slightest for a guard to crack the butt of his gun over Cullen's head. It was a loud noise and Cullen's cry of pain made Dorian feel like he'd just tumbled off a very tall building, fear and uncertainty swelling into a perfect storm of vertigo.

Eyes screwed tight, Cullen touched the back of his head, wincing. No blood, no blood, thank _God_ and that made Dorian dizzy, relief slamming into him as he took a breath, but he'd been _stupid_ and there had been an immediate reaction.

They weren't fucking around.

'Where did it come from? Why did you have it?' Danarius asked, addressing Dorian now, gaze speculative and reptilian. 'You are Halward's son, I know. You bear him little resemblance. Have you followed in his footsteps, little boy, or are you simply trucking with those in power? Where is the formula? Answer me or I will have one of your _lover's_ fingers broken.'

'It—I was given it,' Dorian said, brain going horribly _slow_ , all his ability to lie tangled up in knotted terror.

'By who?'

'I don't know his name, someone gave it to Fenris. He came and he gave him this pack.'

'Along with the blue?'

'Yes.'

Danarius finished off what was in his glass before hurling that glass at Jassen. It smashed impressively, like a tiny glass bomb, right beside his face. Jassen closed his eyes and looked away, but he hadn't flinched.

'Tell me the name,' Danarius said, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 'And I'll release your pretty _boyfriend.'_

He wasn't talking to Dorian anymore. He was looking at Cullen, offering Cullen the thing Dorian knew he wanted most, despite their agreement, despite promises. Cullen wanted Dorian safe _no matter what_ and Dorian was well aware of that.

'I have no idea,' Cullen said. 'I wasn't even _there.'_

'You know Fenris,' Danarius said quickly, gaze sharp and calculating, whiskey only seeming to dull his pain, not his senses. 'You know everything about him. You three,' he sneered softly. 'Have always been tangled up, so my traitorous little dragon tells me. You, Fenris and _Leliana_.'

Dorian felt Cullen bristle.

Danarius saw it, smiled slowly.

'Yes, Leliana Mordant, or _Lee_ as you both call her. I've sent people to find her, of course. Shall I have them record what I will bid them do to her, or would you prefer me to leave her out of it? She knows nothing, after all. Give me the name.'

'Fuck you,' Cullen spat.

That time, it was Dorian they hit. Pain _blossomed_ at the top of his skull; vile impact driven deep, agony radiating, splitting bone and filling his eyes with tears. He clutched his head and Cullen held him close, held him upright, symmetry overwhelming.

'This is dull,' Danarius complained. 'And were this not time sensitive, I would spend _days_ in breaking the pair of you. In making you do awful things to one another.' He chuckled. 'Lovers are always so deliciously easy to break, but this here,' he said, nodding down at his own hand. 'Is time sensitive. My patience,' he added, smirking in Hadrian's direction. 'Grows thin. Now, I have seen the wounds on my little dragon here, so I know it to be real. The hand I took requires healing. I will be in a far more generous mood _with_ a hand, I assure you.'

Dorian grit his teeth. 'I never knew his name.'

'You are _lying._ I can always tell.' He moved closer to Dorian then, using his left to lift his face roughly by the chin. Someone struggled beside him, Cullen was held back by the guards, but Dorian couldn't see.

Grey eyes studied him intently. 'The man who makes this formula, he is a friend of Fenris's?' Dorian said nothing but Danarius's eyes narrowed, the studying intensifying. ' _Yes_ , he is. Will he accompany Fenris in this attempt to rescue you both?' He smiled. ' _Yes_. Very well, my new hand can last a little longer. In the meantime, allow me to pay my respects to Halward.'

Danarius backhanded him hard, right across the face with his left, rings catching on Dorian's lip and tearing. The pain was immobilising, his jaw throbbing, mouth filling with blood, skin of his lip split open and burning.

'You are a _rat_ , no different than your _Father_ and you'll die just like he did. Begging for your worthless life.' Danarius looked at Cullen next moving away as Dorian put his hand over his mouth, sharp metal smack of blood making him want to retch, but he couldn't, couldn't _breathe_ with abject fear now because Danarius was looking at Cullen with incredible loathing. 'And _you_ ,' he fairly snarled. 'You who pulled at the thread that brought my empire to its knees. How I have _waited_ for this, how I enjoyed watching you rise higher and higher, awaiting the perfect moment to yank it all from beneath you.'

Cullen stared back, not flinching, not blinking, guards on either side of him holding him in place by the arms. Dorian kept his hand over his mouth, breathing through the worst of the pain.

'How small the world can truly be, sometimes,' Danarius marvelled, touching the side of Cullen's face, causing the blond to sneer and flinch away from the contact. 'You were the reason he ran, you know.' The words dropped to a low whisper, a baritone of intimacy. 'You were one half of the reason we had to break him like we did. But,' Danarius added, smirking. 'He broke in the end. They _all_ break in the end. Even you, little dragon.'

The last, he tossed over his shoulder, moving away from Cullen.

'You,' he directed at Jassen, whose body was a blur of red and white to Dorian. 'Were always a pale imitation of my wolf, a sad curiosity to be endured while I rebuilt what was lost. But now with Fenris coming home, I have no use for you anymore.'

Incredibly, Jassen laughed. It caused his lungs to spasm, caused blood to eke out over a wound in the centre of his chest, but he wheezed out his amusement all the same.

'F-famous last words,' he choked as Danarius moved closer, picking up a knife from a tray as he approached.

'It would almost be worth the pleasure of gutting you alive,' Danarius said softly. 'But I want my little wolf to tear your throat out with his teeth.'

'Maybe I'll take his out with mine.'

'Oh,' Danarius sighed, wrenching Jassen's head to the side by his hair, exposing his neck as he idly carved lines into the skin there. 'I don't think you'll do that. You care too much about _that_ one over there. You _care_ , like a foolish little girl in love cares for the boy of her dreams; his cares become hers, that's what you are now. A _sop_. You are wet and heavy, slow moving and weighted by what you did not cut from yourself.'

Jassen gasped, 'Still fast enough to take your hand.'

Danarius released his hair. 'The cleverness you pretend to, it makes me ashamed of you, Jassen. You were always broken, never _quite_ good enough for anything, no matter how you tried.' The blade moved down Jassen's throat, over his clavicle, right to the hollow, splitting the skin as he went, spilling thin trails of blood. 'And you did _try_ , didn't you? Your eagerness was mortifying, even then, even as a child, desperate not to be tossed into the fire with the other failures. Desperate,' he said, pressing the blade harder. 'Not to become a _line_ on someone else, someone better.'

Dorian had his hand firmly over his mouth, had moved back to Cullen's side and they watched in fascinated horror, unable to look away.

Danarius moved back easily, calmly. He tossed the knife aside. It clattered to the floor and he gestured at one of his many men in the room to unbutton his shirt.

'Someone _better_ will take your worthless life,' he told Jassen. 'He will take all your lives and later, when I take him from this place, I will let him grieve for what he did to you all. I will let it truly break him.'

'You're wrong,' Cullen said. 'He won't hurt us, that's not who he is.'

Danarius smiled coldly. 'We'll find out soon, won't we?'

*

They were taken to a room on that same floor, clearly a cell, but with two beds, one on either side, plus a toilet with a sink. It reminded Dorian of a traditional prison cell. The doors slammed home behind them and he realised he needed to pee.

'Need to pee,' he muttered while Cullen saw to Jassen, who'd been slung in the room after them. Dorian peed sitting down, needing to sit, truth be told and he watched Cullen carefully lift Jassen onto the nearest bed, the assassin leaving a thin trail of blood in his wake.

'Where are you hurt worst?' he asked Jassen, hands hovering over numerous injuries, too many to even count. ' _Jassen_ ,' Cullen said sharply, causing the man to draw in a rapid, deep breath, as if he'd been falling asleep. 'Where are you hurt worst? What can I do?'

Jassen cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as he blinked, frowning. 'Cullen.'

'Are you bleeding internally? Come on, I don't know about this stuff, you do.'

'I'm sorry you're here,' Jassen said, eyes rolling in a worrying manner. 'It's 'cos of me, I should'a just done what he said.'

Cullen expertly tore a strip off the bottom of his own t-shirt and then tore that strip in half again, his movements steady, but rough. 'You don't get to languish with farewell apologies. You fucked up my life, you nearly made me lose—'

'I was trying to protect you.'

'You could have _told_ me.'

Jassen reeled slightly, like he hadn't been expecting that. 'I…'

'Yeah,' Cullen said, wadding the material against the worst cut he could see on Jassen's chest and the one dead centre in his stomach. 'You could have told me what was happening. We could have worked together, could have protected _everyone_ together, had you but trusted me.'

'You're the _only_ one I trust.'

'Then you should have come to me and explained. Lee and Fenris are smart, you know they would have worked with you to control this. Instead,' Cullen grit out, pressing harder than necessary. 'You went rogue, fucked with my life and so yeah, it is your fault how this went down. It really is.'

Jassen's eyes were wide, watching Cullen with childlike fascination as the blond knelt over him, inexpertly tended his wounds.

'But,' Cullen added, softer than before, his anger leaking away. 'It's not your fault we're here. He was coming for Fenris no matter what and where Fenris goes, so I go. He had an agenda against me for the collapse of the rings.' Cullen looked around. 'This was always coming. So don't bury yourself in blame for that. There's plenty you _actually_ did to feel like shit about. Now, _help_ me to help you. Please?'

Dorian had finished peeing a while ago but he was just sat there, sort of _staring_ at the scene, arms wrapped around his upper chest. He watched Jassen steady himself, gather his strength and point to the wound on his stomach, the one Cullen was already pressing on.

'That one's the worst,' he said hoarsely. 'The others are all shallow.'

'Pretty tame for what I was expecting,' Cullen said, tearing off another strip.

Jassen's expression never changed. 'He did worse, you just can't see it. The worst pain is always invisible.'

Dorian finished up, washing his hands out of habit more than anything else.

'Run the hot tap, please,' Cullen said, his tone entirely different when addressing Dorian. 'Fill the sink. We can clean the worst ones, at least.'

It set Dorian's teeth on edge, the sheer amount of cuts Jassen had. Each one _just_ deep enough to scar, each one reminding Dorian of a grotesque paper-cut. There were _so many_. His upper arms and torso were littered with them. Dorian couldn't understand how he could even move, the pain must have been unbearable, but when they were cleaned with hot, wet material and the worst ones were wrapped, he sat up and drank water from Cullen's cupped hands as if everything was fine and dandy.

'OK,' he said, nodding to himself. 'OK.'

'Are you, though?' Dorian asked. 'You look like shit.'

Jassen didn't laugh. 'I need you to make a choice,' he said, clearly speaking to Cullen, even if he was staring at the wall opposite. 'It's a bad one.'

Cullen was sat on the opposite bed, Dorian beside him.

'What?'

'If Danarius _does_ trigger Fenris,' Jassen said slowly. 'If he gets control of him—'

'He _won't_.'

'If he does,' Jassen persisted. 'I can't not protect you.'

The silence was thick and heavy in the air before Cullen uttered, 'Don't you _dare_ hurt him.'

'If he tries to kill you—'

'He fucking _won't_.'

'If you're so sure, then it means nothing to let me protect you on the off-chance.'

'No.'

Jassen sighed shortly, frustration evident. 'What if he tries to hurt Dorian?'

'Fenris would never—'

'You're not _listening_!' Jassen spat, fury crackling about him, eyes flashing and it was… kind of terrifying. Dorian had never seen him like that. Even fighting Fenris, he'd been playful and then he'd been _serious. '_ I know you don't want to consider it, I _know_ you love him, but there is still a chance to get you out if he turns and I need you to _accept_ that.'

Cullen was shaking. 'Accept you killing Fenris?'

'To protect you,' Jassen countered. 'And I highly doubt I'll be able to kill him. I could slow him down and maybe… maybe his friend will get you two out.'

'Not without Fenris.'

Jassen closed his eyes, exhaling roughly. ' _Yes_ , without Fenris. You're still not hearing me. Danarius will turn him into a mindless slave and I know you don't think it's real, I know you think you can save him by reaching the small part of him deep down that's still Fenris or whatever, but I'm telling you that isn't possible. He won't _be_ Fenris. He'll just be a killer, like me. Why do you think he has so many lines? So many _kills._ This place, it made him a monster.'

'Fenris is not a monster.'

'In this place he was. Under Danarius, he was and will be again.'

'We brought him back before.'

'Without Danarius.'

Cullen's distress was palpable, but after a while, he took a shuddering breath and looked away. 'If he turns,' he said quietly. ' _If_ he turns, maybe you could incapacitate him.'

'You won't try and stop me?' Jassen pushed on, something hard in his gaze. 'I can't protect you if you're trying to protect him.'

'I won't stop you, just don't kill him.'

Jassen exhaled, sat back as if relieved and then he laughed thinly. 'Chance would be a fine thing.'

'We still don't know if it's even real,' Dorian pointed out, thumb moving gently over Cullen's knuckles. 'The trigger word.'

Jassen closed his eyes, leaning against the wall. 'If it doesn't work, no one will be happier than me, I promise. But if it does, tell his friend quickly. He won't believe me, but he'll believe you, Cullen. Tell him to incapacitate Fenris if he can. Christ, I hope he comes with other backup.'

'Like who?'

'Navy seals? Shit, I don't know. He's got contacts. I hope he uses them. This is gonna go bad. Danarius is way too patient, too _confident_.'

Cullen wrapped his arm around Dorian's shoulders, drawing him gently closer and kissing his temple, but it did nothing to ease the sensation that Jassen might be _right_.

*

Someone brought them food. Three plates of sandwiches, the pre-made kind. Jassen ate his quickly, seeming relieved to eat. He regained some of his colour after he finished. Dorian could barely keep anything down, food felt like swallowing cotton wool and when he couldn't finish his, he offered it to Jassen.

'It's yours,' Jassen said, like it was obvious, like Dorian's offer was ridiculous.

'I can't eat it,' Dorian said, holding the plate out as he stood in front of the man with the red tattoos. 'You have it.'

Jassen's glance flicked to Cullen and then back again. He took it slowly, guardedly.

'Thank you.'

Dorian shrugged, too tired and mentally exhausted to do anything more. He returned to Cullen's side on the uncomfortable bed, sinking against him, suddenly wishing he could sleep. Cullen was warm and solid, his skin smelled of home and Dorian just wanted to _rest_.

He didn't realise he'd actually fallen asleep, until he woke up.

Cullen was talking with Jassen, low tones to avoid waking him. Dorian awoke disoriented and confused, but only for a moment. Reality came back _fast_ and cruel, no time to imagine he was in their bed in their beautiful loft.

Dorian missed his life so much then that it was hard to breathe. He wanted Sera and Lana, he wanted Lee and Fenris and Josie, Sophia and _Rosalie_ ; he wanted to be alone with Cullen at night and he wanted to help make dinner for everyone. He wanted to go to Artea's and try new flavours of tea, he wanted to listen to Cullen write new music. He wanted their _future._

He wanted to live.

'Hey,' Cullen greeted softly. 'I'm here.'

Dorian pressed his face into Cullen's side for a second, breathing him in, trying to anchor himself in the safety his boyfriend offered.

'Sorry.'

'For what? It’s good to rest,' Cullen said, kissing his hair a few times. 'I love you so much.'

His eyes burned then, tears threatening but never quite making good on that threat. Dorian sat up, kissed him back. 'I love you more.'

They didn't talk about how it might be the last time and if it _was_ the last time, they were going to say it properly.

'I love _you_ more,' Cullen chuckled softly. 'I'm pretty sure it's the next day now.'

Jassen, whose eyes were closed, said, 'It is. It's almost four in the morning.'

'How can you tell?'

The assassin shrugged.

'What did you two talk about?' Dorian asked, stretching and wincing at the pain shooting up his thigh, painkillers well and truly gone.

'Not much,' Cullen said. 'How do you feel?'

'I feel… OK. No news?'

'Samson came once while you were asleep. Told me…' Cullen cleared his throat, voice shifting into something colder. 'Told me Sophia and Lee would be safe, no matter what.'

Jassen sighed. 'I can't wait to kill him. It's gonna be jaw-dropping. Maybe literally.'

'I didn't hear anything, you should have woke me up.'

'I wanted to let you sleep, love.'

Dorian nodded, but said nothing else. The silence stretched on for a while until Jassen spoke again, eyes still shut as he rested against the wall.

'Sorry for what I did to you.'

Dorian gave him a very hard stare. 'Oh, well that's fine then. Do you even feel bad?'

'I regret causing pain.'

'Yeah,' Dorian snorted. 'For Cullen, not for me.'

'Well,' Jassen said. 'You _are_ Cullen and Cullen is you. You're all…' he gestured between them blindly. 'Tangled up in love.'

Moody, but not wanting to be a total prick to the guy who would probably die trying to protect them, Dorian rolled his eyes. 'OK, well… I accept your apology.'

'If you get out of here alive,' Jassen added calmly. 'Check under the squeaky floorboard of your loft.'

Dorian stared. 'Why?'

Another shrug. Dorian gave up.

'How are you?' he asked Cullen.

His boyfriend managed to smile. 'Doing OK.'

'Can I help upgrade you from OK to good? We could make out, pretend there isn't an assassin over there.'

With a gentle chuckle, Cullen kissed him and said, 'You make everything good. You always have.'

Urgency swelled, all caught up in love and fear. 'Remember what you promised?' Dorian said, stroking the side of his face as their noses rubbed together. 'We can protect _each other_.'

Cullen sobered. 'I remember. I won't let you down.'

He was _trying_. The tangle of emotions was so evident, but he was trying for Dorian and it threatened to break Dorian's _heart_.

'I've never loved anything like I love you,' he whispered, surging helplessly against him, turning fully so he was halfway in Cullen's lap, despite the pain from his thigh, despite _everything_. They kissed hard, despite the cut on Dorian's lip, deepening with desperation to be _closer,_ to fuse together so one could not go anywhere without the other. Dorian wanted to shed his skin, wanted to be _inside_ Cullen, always and forever. He wanted crazy things in the moment. He wanted matching tattoos, he wanted rings and vows, he wanted Cullen's soul to bleed into his, irreversible and immune to death.

He felt that most keenly of all, the threat of death. Of that unknowable nothingness. Of dropping out of the fight before it was finished. It sped his heart up, pushed him higher, dangerously so as he curled his tongue against Cullen's, heedless of who sat opposite, entirely with abandon.

'Love you, love you, Dorian,' Cullen was panting, arms around his back, bear hug of a hold and his hand in Dorian's hair felt so much like _home_ that Dorian wanted to cry. Swore never to take a single moment for granted ever again if they could just get through this. Every moment of his life would be _appreciated_ , would be enjoyed. He swore to himself, to any God listening in.

_Please. Please just let them live._

It was graceless and it was _wild_ , all finesse long gone, only clumsy, desperate need to lose themselves in each other, to fuse. Cullen was _home_ and Dorian was safe there, in his arms, taste of love on his tongue, sharing breath like they were one being, one heart, one soul. Why hadn't they got married before? Why had they wasted time? None of it made sense, not when the world could reach out and snatch them away like this.

The door flew open with a bang and Dorian's skeleton _jumped_ , literally tried to exit his skin. Rude, abrupt, shocking awakening from a dream back into the nightmare.

Six guards hovered behind the seventh.

'It's time.'

*

On shaky legs, one of which throbbed and stung like a bitch, Dorian leaned against Cullen _and_ Jassen, sandwiched between the two as they were taken up a level to wherever it was they were headed. The new hallway did not branch off into other rooms.

It was wide and artfully decorated. The walls were silver, gleaming from the glow of spotlights above. The floor was thick glass, beneath which Dorian saw a shimmering resin display of what looked like blood running through chunks of metal. They walked towards a set of double doors. Great wooden things with some kind of Latin engraved in the frame, but they weren't given the chance to stop and Dorian had never really _got_ Latin, for all his tutors and fancy schooling.

The doors were opened by two guards and Dorian's breath became stuck halfway down his throat when he saw what was inside.

A massive, sunken amphitheatre with at least seven or eight circular rows. In the centre, the lowest part was a ring.

Oh God. Jassen had been right. Danarius wanted them to _fight_.

It was enormous, far bigger than it had any right to be this deep underground and so quiet that the guards boots echoed as they walked awkwardly to the centre. Danarius sat three rows above, two men on either side of him. All of them were kitted out in full SWAT gear, all heavily armed.

'He's nearby,' Danarius said, apropos of nothing. He'd changed suits, chosen something sharper and _snappier_ somehow. The kind of thing that, if worn to a meeting, Dorian would know he meant business. His right arm was in a sling. 'I thought it better to have you here, ready.'

The excitement in his tone was poorly disguised. Jassen moved away slightly once they were in the centre of the arena, a gate closing behind them. The base wall of the pit was high, over six feet. Higher than Dorian could climb, though maybe with help it was possible. The ground beneath his feet was gritty, a kind of crumbled, chalky sand. He was grateful for the double socks then.

Jassen had let him go, but Cullen remained close. Danarius was watching them, gaze lifting expectantly, now and then, glancing towards the doors. One way in or out, Dorian noticed.

They'd been standing there for less than a minute when something _cracked_ , the sound closest to opening a can of coke. Danarius looked sharply to his left where the sound had emanated.

'What is that?' he demanded of his men, but no one seemed to know. They looked around, weapons following their gaze.

Another crack, another hiss.

'FIND IT!' Danarius screamed, but he choked right after and Dorian stepped back, tasting something on the back of his tongue. Something metallic and chemical and _wrong_.

His men were coughing, despite the headgear and Danarius was dry heaving. There were no clouds of gas, no indication where it was coming from, but by the way Danarius dropped suddenly and rolled down a full set of steps, it had to be close.

'Move back,' Jassen muttered and they did just that, moving towards the doors, but the gas or whatever it was, it was tickling Dorian's throat, clawing at his lungs and making him cough now, causing mild panic as the world tilted.

Another crack, but this time, it was _loud_. This time, Dorian knew exactly what it was. His back was against the gate, Cullen covering him when he heard gunshots. One, two, three and a pause before the next. The men around the room were scrambling, but they were coughing too, could barely breathe and the men on either side of Danarius…

'Fenris,' he heard Cullen choke.

Two of the four guards that had been tasked with protecting Danarius pulled off their headgear to reveal small, clear masks and as Cullen had said, it was _Fenris_ and Anders too.

Dorian had the bottom of his shirt over his mouth, breathing through the thin fabric as Fenris crouched low, accurately shooting the remaining men, barely four left in the whole room while Anders laid down cover fire. It was efficient, it was… easy.

Too easy.

'Fen—!' Dorian spluttered, but his throat was dry and sharp, like swallowing fucking _glass_ and he couldn't get the words out. 'Don't—listen j—just run!'

Fenris looked over, frowned, but likely hadn't heard or didn't understand. He and Anders began to move very quickly down the steps towards them and… fuck, where was Danarius?

He ran towards them, Fenris. Pulled out an extra mask and gave it to Cullen, Anders giving one to Dorian. Anders then took a few deep breaths and pulled his own off, offering it to Jassen.

Dorian greedily drank in the clean, cool air, soothing his throat and his lungs like ice water over fire.

'We have to go,' Cullen blurted out, even as he and Fenris quickly hugged, a fierce, desperate thing in a stolen moment. 'There's a trigger word, Danarius can control you—'

'Quick, then,' Anders said, taking the mask back from Jassen. He shot the lock on the gate and they moved hurriedly through towards the end of the gleaming corridor.

'Give him a gun,' Fenris told Anders as they jogged to the end.

Anders passed Jassen a handgun. Dorian moved as fast as his leg could carry him, vaguely terrified to look back and see Danarius chasing them, but when he chanced a glance, there was no one.

 _No one_.

At the end of the hall, Fenris removed his mask and everyone copied him, deeming it safe. 'Up and out, there's people waiting,' he said as Anders made short work of the door with the thumb scanner by _shooting_ it. 'Come on.'

A voice, magnified twenty times, rang through the air. Dorian froze as if caught in the sway of a demon. Danarius's voice was flat, but it was _angry_ too, the tannoy giving it unnatural volume.

_'You're going nowhere, little wolf.'_

Fenris's whole body rolled, mouth falling open; it seemed involuntary, but there was _recognition_ in there too.

Dorian shook his head, panic strangling all the common sense from him. No, no, no. He looked around for a speaker anywhere, for anything they could shoot or disable.

Cullen took hold of Fenris, one hand on either side of his face, pressed his palms flat over his ears, their foreheads together.

'Don't listen,' he said loudly as they moved together out into the stairwell, Jassen's gun aimed towards the amphitheatre, Anders's pointed the way they were going and Dorian, he just limped and watched, stricken. 'Don't listen to anything he—'

_'Surgere, amatus.'_

'—Says, fuck, look at me, Fen, we're nearly there!' Cullen was yelling and Fenris's eyes were wide, jaw lax. He was afraid, gripping Cullen's forearms as they moved slow and sure.

' _Surgere, amatus,'_ Danarius said again, but Cullen was still talking over him, still yelling, hands over his ears and they were in the stairwell now. They could go _up,_ only two floors, only—

Cullen stumbled, his weight pitching to the side unexpectedly and Dorian caught him, helped him as Fenris's own hands flew over his ears but not fast enough.

_'SURGERE, AMATUS!'_

The intake of breath was audible; swift, gut punch of something like _surprise_ as Fenris's eyes widened before those lovely shades of green turned horribly, irreversibly _glassy_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this grim setting, it's loosely based on my upcoming urban fantasy series. Also, feel free to check out these Dragon Age bracelets:  
> https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SwishAndFlique  
> Thanks for reading.  
> 💜💜💜


	32. So Come Out (You Have Been Waiting Long Enough): Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST A MONTH LATER, I am a wreck of apologies, honestly, I'm so sorry. January was bleak and to console myself I replayed Dragon Age II and fell down a hole, but here we are AT LAST with part one as we bring this story to a close.  
> Thank you, as always, to everyone who is so kind and generous with their support.  
> This was, bar none, the hardest thing I've ever written. I'm not even gonna apologise for the length, y'all have actually reassured me about long chapters to a point where I feel ok in posting something that's almost 60k (again).  
> So please settle in, get some snacks. I hope you enjoy this and do let me know your thoughts.  
> 💜💜💜

_Bang_!

Detective Thrask dropped a heavy file on the metal desk. Dorian, who’d been slouched over with his head in his hands, elbows on the cold steel, jumped and looked up, heart racing.

'Start talking, then,' Thrask said, lowering himself heavily into his seat beside his partner.

'I've had gentler invitations,' Dorian muttered, but sat up fully, rolling his shoulders and wincing. He was hurt all over from injuries hours old; bruised and cut, his leg throbbed like a _motherfucker._

There was stale, poorly made tea beside him in a plastic cup. The room was strangely dark, even with the lightbulb above, just bright enough to show dust particles as they scattered and darted aimlessly, disturbed by the heavy file. It was a small and intimidating space, complete with two way glass and everything. Dorian didn't know who was standing behind that glass, he hoped a lot of people.

He hoped _Samson_.

‘You came to us, remember? Make with the chit chat.'

Dorian eyed the file. 'I can't tell you what I don't know _._ There'll be gaps.'

'We can deal with gaps,' Detective Keran said, voice pleasantly soothing and patient, stark contrast to Thrask.

He was the good cop, Dorian supposed. Rob Keran was the one who'd brought him that terrible tea an hour ago, which remained untouched because even in dire circumstances, Dorian had _standards_. The other, a grouchy older man who’d introduced himself as James Thrask, gave a snort and leaned back, crossing his arms.

'You're not going anywhere until we get a statement,' Thrask said. 'People are missing. People are _dead_ , fuck knows how many unaccounted for in that _crater_. We've had three military grade hacks, had our surveillance systems rendered worse than useless. There's a potential _terrorist_ involved in this. You're a witness to it all.'

Keran shot his interview partner a look, imploring restraint, perhaps. 'We also appreciate that you came to us. We're _tasked_ with helping you, understand. Cullen Rutherford has been missing for almost two days now and we want to find him, that's our priority. We know you're his boyfriend. We know you and two others went to try and recover him. We know you've been hurt,' he added, milder that time. 'How did this happen, here, for example?' He gestured at Dorian's forehead.

'A chunk of warehouse hit me.'

Thrask was, apparently, a man prone to _quiet_ anger. 'Is that a joke?'

'No, I really am just that lucky,' Dorian sighed, willing away his headache, willing away so much then, nerves most of all. 'Look, I'm sure you know that Cullen Rutherford has a stalker. A dangerous man, someone capable and ruthless.' He stared down at the weak, light brown liquid. He missed Artea's. He missed everything. 'It was that man who orchestrated his kidnap. Who took him and then privately ransomed us, threatened his life if we didn't keep the police out of it.'

Thrask said, 'You were _obligated_ to—'

Keran nudged him. When the older man fell grudgingly silent, he gestured for Dorian to go on. 'Sorry.'

'It's fine. So. Jassen.'

Keran consulted the file once more. 'The attacker from Wireless?'

Dorian tapped the plastic cup, holding fast to every single thing Fenris had ever taught him about how to lie and lie _well_.

'Jassen Emory, yes. He's the one who orchestrated the whole thing from start to finish.'

'This man was behind everything that happened in the last two days?'

'As far as I know, yes.'

Impatient, Thrask demanded, 'Where is he now? Where are any of them now?'

'Well, if you'd let me explain,' Dorian said, jaw clenching. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you. I have no idea where they are, where anyone is. Not even Cullen.'

'Why did you come here, then? Why turn up empty handed to a police station?'

'Why does anyone come to a police station? For _help_.'

'That's what you want, is it?' Thrask asked shrewdly. 'Help?'

'Yes, I want help.'

'And you're comfortable talking to us?' Keran checked again, only a brief glance towards the glass. 'Because we're happy to continue waiting for your counsel to arrive. Her plane landed ten minutes ago.'

Dorian didn't react at all. Ten minutes. They'd be in the air by now, stowed aboard the private plane, headed to a certain Mediterranean island.

He just needed to give them time to _get_ there, to land.

Even disaster Dorian Pavus could not fuck this up.

'We've waited _enough_ ,' Thrask snarled under his breath. 'He's been here two hours already!'

Two hours was good. Two hours of all their focus on him. Of people staring intently behind two way glass. Of CCTV on him, of social media leaks. His name pinging all over the grid.

He hoped it was enough.

He hoped he could _lie_ well enough to do what needed to be done.

'I don't mind talking,' Dorian said, deceptively calm. 'What do you want to know?'

Keran offered a small earnest smile, seeking to reassure. Dorian quite liked him, couldn't help but acknowledge how much the whole routine _worked_ , despite being aware of it.

‘Let's start at the beginning.'

*

_-Twelve Hours Ago-_

No one knew what to do, no one _breathed_. Cullen was frozen, eyes wide, lips parted as if about to speak, but nothing came out. Anders was staring, fuck, they were _all_ staring, even Danarius who couldn't hide the tentative desperation in his gaze from halfway down that silver and red streaked hallway.

Fenris was unresponsive. He was blank and empty, not focused on anything and that… that was so wrong because Fenris was always focused, he focused on everything and everyone.

Danarius took a step forward just as Cullen slowly reached out for his friend. Dorian saw it in slow motion almost, even though both men were moving with the kind of caution that spoke of fear; Cullen terrified Fenris was not himself, Danarius wary that he _was_.

Fingertips touched Fenris's shoulder and there was no reaction whatsoever.

'Fen?'

Nothing.

Danarius moved faster. ' _Fenris_!' he barked, voice cracking like a whip, echo lending volume to an already frightening tone.

But there was no reaction that time either. Cullen's hand was on Fenris's shoulder now, shaking him. Danarius pulled out a gun from behind his back. 

'Make sure you don't _miss_ ,' he spat at Jassen. Dorian hadn't even realised the assassin had his own gun aimed squarely at Danarius. 'I can speak a command faster than you can take aim.'

'I know,' Jassen muttered and then he swung the gun round, pointed it right at Fenris instead. He looked at Cullen, something blazing in his gaze that could have been regret, before he said, 'I'm so sorry.'

Everything happened very fast then.

Except for once, Dorian was fast too.

Anders blocked Jassen, going straight for his wrist, trying to twist the gun out of his grasp. Jassen hit him, dropped expertly low, made to sweep his leg, but Anders was somehow _wise_ to his favoured move, jumped over it like it was a fucking skipping rope.

Dorian pulled Fenris by the hand, yanked him between himself and Cullen. The smaller man was horribly malleable. He didn't complain, didn't react. His limbs were loose, muscles relaxed and there was no reaction as Dorian wrapped himself around Fenris then, not knowing what he was doing, only knowing he _had_ to do it.

Anders and Jassen were having the fastest, weirdest fight of all time; blocking each other's every move as if reading one another's mind. Anders had gotten Jassen's gun away, sent it clattering to the side of the stairwell and Dorian eyed it as Danarius approached, was almost there.

Cullen moved in front of Dorian and Fenris, moved himself _fully_ to shield them, slowly backing them towards the stairs that led up, towards the gun. Danarius was almost to the door, Jassen making a sudden grunt of pain after a sick, thick _popping_ sound as Anders did something to his arm.

Dorian saw Danarius’s focus land on the gun. Saw the moment and for once, did not hesitate. He dived out from behind Cullen, as fast as he could make himself go with his fucked up thigh, but it was faster than he'd thought possible. Powered by crystal clear _adrenaline,_ he made it to the gun, skidding painfully into the wall. The mezzanine grated against his knees through the thin fabric and his thigh was _screaming_ , but he didn't care.

He held the gun the way people did in movies, finger resting on the trigger and he pointed it at the door, pushing up awkwardly onto his knees, teeth grit hard to ignore the pain.

Standing slowly, he yelled, 'Enough! Anders, _stop_!'

Both men looked at him, bloodied and breathless and it was madness, Dorian wanted to laugh because he didn't know what the _fuck_ he was doing. He couldn't quantify it, didn't know where to start.

But he held the gun and he kept it steady as he moved towards Cullen and Fenris.

Fenris, who remained blank and unresponsive.

'Shoot him,' Jassen panted, fingers dug deep in Anders’ forearm, the pair no longer fighting, but certainly not done _restraining_ one another.

'Shoot who?'

'Fucking _someone!'_

Danarius snarled, _'_ There will be no shooting. Any shots fired and my Fenris will rip you all apart.'

Cullen's lip twisted, teeth bared. 'He's not _yours_.'

Cold, cruel glance flicked to just _behind_ Cullen. 'Fenris, come here.'

Oh, but Danarius's face when nothing happened.

Jassen said, 'Kill him, Dorian, it didn't work! Kill Danarius!'

'Yes, please do help me _jumpstart_ my little wolf,' Danarius scathed softly, fury rounding his shoulders. 'Firing a gun should be just the thing.'

And later, Dorian would _question_ why Danarius hadn't just shot them, why he hadn't killed them already; he would realise that Danarius was truly unsure about Fenris, didn't _want_ to risk gunfire jolting him from whatever was happening to the silver haired man.

And he would realise that Danarius was afraid.

But in the moment, all he could feel was the urgency in his hand, the rapidly warming material of that gun. He _wanted_ to kill this man, to shoot him at the very least. His fingers tightened around the trigger and Danarius seemed to read it in his body language.

'Don't,' Danarius warned, almost teasingly.

Dorian couldn't turn to see what was happening with Cullen and Fenris, but he sensed no movement. The very air around them was still, all the world holding its breath, waiting for a _push_.

It came in the form of sound.

Doors banging open from below. Jackboots on metal. Samson giving orders and the rapid, steady ascension of _backup_ for Danarius.

Dorian had come to terms with doing it, finger tightening but before he could, a hand gripped his ankle and _yanked_. He went sideways, went _down_ with a resounding crash that punched all the air from his lungs. Anders had stopped him, stole the gun from his hand. Jassen kicked the huge, heavy door shut in Danarius's face, automatic lock clunking loudly.

Anders shot the mechanism on the side, fritzing the thumb print scanner, effectively _locking_ Danarius inside.

'Get with Cullen,' he ordered. 'We're going up.'

'We can't take Fenris,' Jassen said, wiping blood from his mouth, one eye bright red, same shade as his tattoos. 'He could turn.'

'We're not _leaving_ him,' Cullen growled as Dorian went to his side. Jassen didn't argue.

They began to move upwards, gunshots from inside the silver hallway muted by the heavy door, but Danarius was trapped inside for now and as Samson's people came up, so the others moved upwards. Fenris could be _walked._ Cullen and Dorian guided him, still entirely blank, but when moved forward, he walked and he didn't stumble. His motor functions were intact, Dorian realised. He knew how to step up, when to turn. He was aware of his surroundings, or was starting to be, at least.

There was a roar of something furious; either Samson or a newly freed Danarius that had them moving suddenly a lot _faster_. Dorian knew Cullen probably wanted to carry his friend, but after stumbling earlier on his bad ankle, he wouldn't take the chance again.

'Shit, faster is better,' Jassen said, looking down.

The stairwell levelled out, led to an upward ramp and Dorian's heart was _smashing_ against his ribs, because they were so close, so fucking close he could almost taste the fresh, cold air.

They burst through another set of double doors into daylight.

*

'Bullshit,' Thrask accused, flatly unconvinced. 'That's not what happened.'

Dorian took a moment to gather himself, wearing the guise of a man who was not _offended_ but simply irritated. Christ, but lying was _exhausting_.

'Oh, I'm sorry, were you there?'

'We combed over the warehouse, what's _left_ of it and there are way too many people there for what you're saying. Bodies in the rubble and what seems to be some kind of _crater_ leading down. We found our own people there.' Thrask watched Dorian with an intensity that would have unnerved him, had he any nerves left that weren't worn to nubs.

'Maybe your forces were pursuing Jassen,' Dorian lied flawlessly. 'Maybe acting on behalf of DCI Clarel. Coming to the rescue too late. It's like I said, I can only tell you what I know. A lot of this clearly goes beyond my understanding as a traumatised civilian.'

'We found your prints on one of the guns,' Thrask snapped. 'Not _that_ much of a civilian.'

'Let's backtrack,' Keran said, clearly seeking to mediate. 'You went to make the ransom payment in exchange for Cullen. It took place in a warehouse and maybe there were more people than you remember. Accurate so far?'

He gave a nod.

'How did the warehouse… um, _explode?'_

'Someone must have had explosives.'

'Why would someone bring explosives to a ransom?'

Dorian looked down, brow lifting slightly. 'Excellent point.'

*

The light from outside hit the back of Dorian's skull, sending his senses reeling, eyes slamming shut against the onslaught of shockingly bright winter sun. The warehouse, now filled with light, was smaller than he'd realised last night, especially packed with vehicles around the edge. Great big lorries with fuck knows what inside but Dorian was only concerned for where the door was.

Cullen had Fenris, Jassen and Anders guarding the rear so Dorian fled to the smaller side door, not wanting to waste time with the massive shutters. He threw himself against it, but it was secure, didn't budge.

He looked back, about to ask for help, but the distant sound of jackboots became an insistent thud.

Jassen looked at Anders, gesturing towards the staircase that led down. 'Bottleneck?'

Anders nodded briskly, like he understood and they took aim at the narrow entrance. The unlucky first few took the brunt as men with weapons of their own came pouring up in a thin line, forced to _bottleneck_ as Jassen had said.

The men fell back quickly and Cullen led Fenris to the door.

'Here, take him,' he said to Dorian, gesturing they move back. He threw his entire weight into the door. It didn't open, but the hinges budged.

'DROP YOUR WEAPONS!' Dorian heard Samson bellow. Cullen took another run, threw himself harder. Tiny jets of light came streaming inside from around the edges of the metal door.

'Back the fuck _down_ ,' Anders yelled at him in turn. 'I will level this place on top of you!'

'You don't have enough ammo,' Samson accused, but it was cautious that time, weighing the threat.

' _FENRIS_!'

Beneath Dorian's hands, Fenris took in a sharp, shocked breath, as if waking from a nightmare. Cullen didn't seem to hear it, was stepping back to throw himself at the door again, but Fenris turned towards the fray, focus forming in his gaze, blank expression creasing into one of rapidly ebbing confusion.

'KILL THEM _ALL,_ FENRIS!' Danarius screamed.

'Please don't,' Dorian implored, taking a chance and holding Fenris's cold hands in his own. 'We are here with you Fenris, we love you and we're _here_. Don't listen to him.'

Fenris wasn't looking at Dorian. Two more shots fired, Jassen dropped his empty magazine and reloaded with a fresh one, courtesy of Anders. Fenris turned in the direction of that sound, rather than Dorian's voice.

'You don't have enough _bullets_ to kill everyone we send up,' Danarius declared loudly. 'So by all means keep wasting them!'

'My men are _not_ expendable,' Samson growled.

'They are if I say they are! Up there, you, go on!'

Fenris looked back at Dorian, lifting his eyes slowly, lingering effect of something _hazy_ playing about his angular features. It made Dorian's insides turn cold when there was no recognition there.

'It's me - _Dorian_ ,' he said, but the silver haired man showed no evidence of knowing _who_ that was.

'KILL THEM ALL, FENRIS!' Danarius screamed again and that time, oh there was the _recognition._ Green eyes widened, pupils contracting, instantaneous pallor that must have left him feeling lightheaded. He almost swayed on the spot but Dorian was still holding his hands, kept him steady best he could.

Fenris opened his mouth to speak, but the impact of Cullen throwing himself at the door made him flinch, harder that time and suddenly, sunlight streamed inside, _far_ too bright. Dorian looked away instinctively, agony shooting right into the centre of his brain.

'The fuck is that?' Jassen demanded quietly as Cullen righted himself, reached inside to bid them hurry, not speaking lest it alert Danarius and Samson to their escape. Fenris was panicking now, Dorian could see it, but there wasn't time to reassure him, to do anything but get the fuck _away_.

Danarius ordered more men to go up to their deaths.

Dorian rubbed his stinging eyes, stepping out into the sun, one hand around Fenris's forearm. The shorter pulled out of his grasp, looking back towards the dark warehouse, away from the sun and away from Cullen.

Jassen ran fast towards them. ' _Move_! He's got an IED.'

Dorian didn't wait, didn't _question. T_ hey were outside, they were in daylight and all they had to do was keep moving, despite the pain in his leg, despite _so much_.

They were still close enough to hear Anders bellow, while running towards the exit himself, 'You will never take another person as you took him!' before the warehouse exploded.

*

Thrask got up and left, rudely abrupt and clearly agitated. Dorian was pretty sure it was planned; part of their whole routine and seriously, was this _it_ in terms of psychological warfare?

'He probably wants a smoke,' Keran said, scanning a page from his file.

Dorian stared at the door. 'I didn't realise anyone still smoked.'

'Just five or six people left in the world,' the younger officer joked, frowning slightly with concentration. 'The device used, the IED, it was powerful, professional assembly. There was also a high amount of combustible fuel inside the warehouse.'

'Hence the hole in the ground it now is,' Dorian sniffed.

'But people still got out, aside from yourself, Cullen and the bodyguard?'

'A few,' Dorian said slowly, looking to the side. 'A few did.'

'Who else?'

'This is where my version of events becomes limited,' Dorian sighed. 'Because when the warehouse exploded, something smacked me in the head and knocked me out.'

Keran looked up, irritation flickering. 'Man, I'm trying to help you out here. Do you realise how patently rehearsed this all sounds? How many suspects we get in here weekly, doing exactly what you're doing? I still don't get _why_ you're lying to us. We want to help, don't you trust that?'

_I wish I could_ , Dorian almost said, but caught himself in time.

'I trust you,' he lied. 'But there is only so much I can remember and I'd rather stick to facts than make shit up to fill the gaps.'

'Well,' Keran sighed, making a note. 'We wouldn't want that. Shall I sum up so far?'

Dorian shrugged.

'Cullen Rutherford is kidnapped. You're contacted by the stalker, Jassen, told to meet privately in a warehouse. This all tracks so far. We know he was taken, we know he had a highly proficient stalker. Despite how useless you probably think we are, we _were_ working on a profile. We also received intelligence from DCI Clarel about a warehouse in that area, just not that precise one. She was close.'

_Close to sending us nearby to be captured_ , Dorian thought bitterly, recalling Jassen's insistence that they kill her.

'Right, so?'

' _So_ , there were police in the warehouse. Armed officers, SWAT division, even counter terrorism.'

'I don't know about that. It was dark. We went inside, like I said, offered the money but there was an argument, something wrong between Jassen and another man. Maybe they used explosives _because_ they got wind of police presence, I don't know.'

Keran nodded, pulling out a picture and holding it up. A shadowy street camera shot of Anders.

'Was it this man?'

'No.'

'But he was with you?'

Dorian dug in. 'No.'

Keran knew he was lying, it showed in the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. 'He was at the hospital with you.'

'He'd heard about the car accident, came to check on Fenris.'

'Fenris Cohen,' Keran said, nodding. 'All right. Tell me more about him, the bodyguard.'

Dorian fell into wary silence, unexpected territory.

_If you get stuck,_ Anders had told him. _Clam up. Demand your lawyer. Just keep delaying._

'I think I'd better wait for my lawyer.'

Keran kept on jotting little notes. 'No problem. You need anything for your head? Any other injuries that need seeing to?'

'No, I'm OK.'

'You sure? You're blinking a lot. How about some paracetamol, at least?'

'I… if that's all right?'

'Course, here.' The police officer fished out a pack with three pills left. Dorian popped them out, swallowed them dry.

'Thanks.'

'No worries. That's an impressive knock you took, there.'

'Yeah,' Dorian laughed. 'It felt pretty impressive.'

*

The world had exploded.

Something had hit Dorian's head hard enough to make him see fucking _stars_ and not in a nice, life affirming _sex_ way. His ears were ringing, his visions swam and his body hurt all over. Slowly, world threatening to tilt right off its axis, he pushed up on torn, bloody palms. His body felt _frapped._

_'_ C-Cullen _,'_ he gasped, words hurting to form. 'Cullen?'

Strong arms wrapped carefully around his middle, pulled him up. He tried to look, but there was something thick and opaque in his eyes, his own blood. Something _stung_ on his forehead, throbbed horribly when Cullen (he'd know those arms anywhere, know the feel of him) set him upright. Nausea hit him out of nowhere but it was the shallow kind, the kind that could be controlled.

Hands on his face, careful yet frantic. Dorian held onto Cullen's forearms, tried to keep his knees from giving out. His ears were still ringing, no detectable sound for a good few seconds.

When sound did deign to return, it was to the tune of screaming.

'—were coming up any second, what choice did I have?'

'YOU HAD THE CHOICE _NOT_ TO DROP A BUILDING WHILE CULLEN WAS TWO FEET FROM IT!'

'That's all you're concerned about, isn't it? Fuck you and your obsession! I did what was _right!'_

_'_ You could have _warned us,_ the _yield_ on that thing—'

'—was small and contained, it's not my fault they were storing _petrol_ in there!'

'Enough!' Cullen barked and Dorian could just about see now. He felt it when Cullen guided him to sit on something rough and wonky, a chunk of concrete maybe. 'I'm here, baby. Deep breaths, that's it. _Anders_! Get over here and help him.'

Dorian's motor functions were returning, pain making itself known in every part of him. His head stopped swimming and he saw it was indeed Cullen crouched before him, one hand on his face, the other pressing down firmly on his thigh which was… ah, bleeding. Of course.

Anders came into Dorian's peripheral view. 'Move back.'

'He's bleeding.'

'I know, move. Come on, Cullen, let me help him.'

Cullen didn't move _much,_ truth be told. Barely two feet aside, hand sliding down to hold Dorian's. He had a swipe of blood across his chin and mouth, but Dorian could tell it wasn't his, was from where he'd kissed Dorian's (no doubt) blood covered face at some point.

Probably in relief.

That seemed funny to Dorian, so he started laughing. Wholly appropriate, laughter.

Anders frowned deeply. 'Well, that's not good. He might have a concussion.'

' _Help him_.'

Dorian's laughter tapered off and he looked around. 'Where’s Fenris?'

Anders' frown morphed into unguarded regret.

'He ran,' Cullen filled in. 'I saw him take off down the street, wasn't hurt too badly, I think. Anders got caught under some rubble and Jassen…' Cullen trailed off, but Dorian got it. Jassen's priority was _Cullen_ , simple as. He wouldn't leave Cullen to chase after Fenris, not in a million years.

'We'll find him,' Dorian promised wisely. He did feel rather wise in the moment. He felt wise and very content, even as Anders shone that shiny light in his eyes.

'He's _just about_ OK,' Anders stated warily. 'I'll patch him up, he should be fine.'

'There's moving rubble over there,' Jassen pointed out cheerfully. 'Got any more bombs going spare, no? Uranium rods? What about a Molotov?'

Anders' expression was absolute stone. 'Go fuck yourself, killer.'

Jassen's response was a humourless snort.

Very slowly, Dorian realised that the warehouse was… pretty much gone. Levelled. His lungs were burning with the urge to cough, thin clouds of smoke moving through the bright, icy December morning.

'Did you…?' he asked, voice catching immediately, turning to a painful wheeze. 'Blow it up?'

The medic focused on helping Dorian, ignored his question.

Jassen waded through smoking chunks of concrete and metal.

'Ah, here we go,' he said, yanking someone out from beneath the debris. Dorian tried to look but Anders gently turned his chin back, applying something to his forehead that gave an initial sting, but then eased the dull throbbing.

'Don't worry about him,' Anders implored, voice soothing. 'Look at me, or Cullen.'

Dorian could do that. He met Cullen's gaze, properly that time, exhaling shakily. He took in what he saw; minor injuries, tiny cuts and bruises, a few scrapes but otherwise, not badly hurt.

It was a deeply intense thing. A level of communication that ran deep and absolute, no two ways about it. Part of Dorian wanted to shove Anders aside, fall into Cullen's arms and never resurface. The other part wanted to look away, could not bear to think of how close it had come _again._

In the background, somewhere behind Dorian, he could hear Jassen demanding what Danarius's last movements were, how this man came to be up in the building when it blew. Pained shrieks filled the air when he didn't answer quick enough and then, finally, Dorian flinched to hear a loud, sick crack.

'They retreated back down,' Jassen informed them as he helped himself to a bandage from Anders' small pack, wrapping it around his bare upper arm which was, in all fairness, gushing blood. 'The only other exit is right at the bottom and it leads out at least a mile away. We should still move.'

'I need to call Lee,' Cullen said, finally wrenching his gaze from Dorian. 'Anders, do you—?'

'We have a vehicle parked four streets away near a lay-by,' he explained, applying a thick, heavy duty _plaster_ to Dorian's head over what had been at least four butterfly stitches. 'Take it easy, lots of water,' he told Dorian with a kind, if strained smile, pushing up on his knees to rise. 'We have to find him.'

Cullen touched the side of Dorian's face, glancing at Anders, fingers moving over undamaged skin. He was held together by what seemed like sheer force of will and Dorian could _feel_ how much he wanted to snap, to drag Dorian into his arms and never let him go anywhere without him ever again. Dorian knew this because he felt the _same_.

'He has his tracker on, right?'

'He does, or he did when we snuck inside.'

'Did he know you were bringing an IED with you?' Jassen sneered, shaking excess blood off his knuckles.

Anders was pale, but determined. 'No, he didn't.'

'You could have killed us,' Cullen said, no judgement, but not exactly thrilled by his general tone.

'I _saved_ us.'

'Dumb luck is hardly anything to crow about,' Jassen insisted, still sounding vaguely amused.

'Let's just get to the car,' Dorian cut across before anything could get started, leaning heavily on Cullen to stand. 'We need to call Lee.'

They began to walk away from the site of what looked like a veritable crater, the winter sun beaming down. Dorian's feet hurt as he walked, double socks not doing much for endless jagged chunks of concrete and metal.

'How did you know?' Cullen asked as they left the industrial estate, walking a lonely road that narrowed steadily into a woodland area. 'What the place was?'

'I wasn't certain until we got here. He used thermal imaging to scan the levels. I knew then.'

'You suspected though.'

Anders huffed at Jassen. 'I don't need to explain myself to _you_.'

'Because you investigated where he was held when kidnapped,' Jassen guessed. 'You researched it a lot, I bet. Found out more than you let on.'

'What does it matter? I saved us, didn't I? We'll find Fenris and the _reason_ we got away will be because of what I used. It was a clever device, it detonates _down._ I designed it myself.'

Cullen said, 'Weapons don't fix everything.'

Anders glared. ' _That_ wasn't my fault.'

The bridge was small and well hidden; no longer in use, old stones creating a tunnel beneath where Anders and Fenris had parked a small white van. The kind of place where teenagers would go to have sex and drink alcohol, maybe, if they could ignore the smell of urine and the large, wild spiders.

The back of the van was, thankfully, filled with all manner of useful items.

The first thing Cullen did was call Leliana. Anders went about tracking Fenris via his bracelet and Jassen, weirdly, gave Dorian some water; cracking a bottle for him and nodding at it, extended in clear offering.

'Lee, it's Cullen. I'm—I'm OK, but listen, please. Fenris ran off, we're going to track him but Danarius did something to him. A kind of… trigger word,' Cullen explained reluctantly, expression pure misery.

'Tell the others in Dorian's place to get somewhere safer,' Jassen said seriously. 'First thing Danarius will do is go for them.'

'It's safe there,' Dorian said. 'Fenris made it safe.'

Jassen shook his head, eating an apple. 'I got your friend's fingerprint for the door, hacked the system from the inside as per the Trevelyan's instructions. Danarius has access to their systems which means he has access to your loft. It's not safe from the twins _or_ him.'

Dorian stared. 'Or _you_.'

With a weary roll of his eyes, Jassen said, 'The difference is I have no interest in killing you.'

Cullen relayed the message. Dorian could hear Lee very faintly, her panic and what sounded like barely restrained fury. Anders was using a tablet to open a tracking app. Dorian bit down on the very worst of his anger towards Jassen then, determined to protect Lana by keeping his silence.

'Christ, he's moving fast,' Anders muttered. 'Not fast enough to be inside a vehicle, but… I think he's _running_.'

Cullen came to stand beside him. 'Lee, are you seeing this? OK, yeah, I know. Just please get to the panic room with the others when they arrive and don't move from there, no matter what. Because he mentioned you! _Because_ it's too dangerous. Fuck's sake, please don't start this now.'

'What about Clarel?' Anders asked curiously. 'She awake yet?'

Jassen scowled. 'Bitch should be dead, she works for Samson.'

Cullen didn't have a chance to ask Lee that because she was still yelling. Dorian watched the small dot move steadily across the page of the map. Cullen frowned, panning out to gain perspective.

'Lee,' he said haltingly. ' _Lee!_ Are you seeing this? Look where he's headed.'

Dorian asked, 'Where?'

Cullen's gaze was riveted to the dot. 'Home.'

*

Thrask stalked inside, three Styrofoam cups expertly triangled between his hands. He set them down carefully.

'Got you a tea,' he told Dorian gruffly. 'A better one. Made it myself.'

Dorian remained wary. 'Thanks.'

Thrask sat down heavily, slight wheeze to his huffing sigh. 'I didn't realise who you were.'

'Oh, for fucks sake,' Dorian muttered, pulling the lid off to see a surprisingly well made tea. 'How is _that_ relevant?'

'No, it's…' Thrask cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. 'It's not relevant. I just knew I recognised you from somewhere.'

It wasn't a patch on Cullen's tea, but it was pretty damned good. Dorian took a sip and then said, 'A year ago, you saying something like that would have probably triggered a panic attack.'

Keran frowned, looking between them and Thrask mouthed, quite unsubtly, ' _YouTube.'_ Keran still didn't get it, but he didn't deem it necessary to push. He shrugged and looked back at the file.

'Dorian has chosen to wait until his counsel arrives.'

Thrask cocked an eyebrow. 'Smart move. In the meantime, how about I lay out what I think _actually_ happened?'

Dorian gestured for him to go ahead, sat back, the hot beverage between both hands. It was a familiar feeling and he let it ground him. Dorian liked tea as much as the next Brit, but he'd never met any three quite so obsessed with it as the Triad. He smiled, to think of them that way. His boyfriend, Lee, Fenris. Best friends, no matter what.

No matter what.

The smile slipped away, small to begin with and he just about refrained from swallowing.

Thrask sipped his drink, coffee by the smell and smacked his lips with unoffensive appreciation.

'I think,' he started slowly, tone flat. 'That you're lying about who kidnapped Rutherford. I think there's a scene much larger at play here and you're trying to minimise it. I think you and your friends did some highly illegal shit in your efforts to reclaim him, some of which has backfired and you're trying to cover your tracks and theirs.' Thrask leaned forward. 'Sound about right?'

The door opened swiftly and in walked Dorian's saviour, clad in a killer suit, black hair styled to perfection, despite the state of the world. She dropped her briefcase down on the table emphatically, atop Keran's notes.

'Ten minutes with my client, right now.' Morrigan's gaze raked over Dorian, missing nothing. 'And a doctor. He's _hurt_.'

'We offered him medical assistance, he declined.'

'It most definitely wasn't a _request_ , or are you withholding medical assistance from my client while locking him up without probable cause in a dank room, attempting to eke a statement out from him _under duress_?'

Thrask paled but Keran kept his game face.

'Shall we send someone in now or after your ten minutes, Miss Korcari?'

'After, of course. Also, I would appreciate a well-made green tea if you have one going spare.'

Thrask said, 'We do _not!_ ' as if denying he was possessed by a demon. Keran sighed and rose fluidly, retrieving his heavy file.

'See you in ten minutes.'

Morrigan waited until they were out of the room before she began to speak.

'My flight brought me right here,' she said. 'I compiled some notes on the way, why don't you have a look through them?'

She handed Dorian a small, but thick paged notebook filled with exquisite handwriting. The notes were incredibly small, dense lines filled with text that Dorian squinted to see.

'Um.'

She tapped the page with her Mont Blanc. 'These parts here pertain to the relevant details,' she said, the pen touching the first letter of each line, which was capitalised, despite running on.

Dorian didn't react beyond a nod, reading carefully.

B

O

A

R

D

E

D

S

A

F

E

L

Y

K

E

E

P

S

T

A

L

L

I

N

G

W

I

T

H

M

E

S

A

M

S

O

N

I

S

W

A

T

C

H

I

N

G

'Right,' Dorian said, after the capital letters ended and he spent a good portion of time pretending to skim the other pages. 'Yeah, that all seems accurate.'

Morrigan closed the book with a snap. 'Excellent. We'll be out of here in no time, I have every confidence.'

Dorian chanced a look at her, the woman who was good friends with Alistair, whose son was fathered by him. He felt the urge to swallow, but repressed it. He was getting good at it.

'I think so too,' he said, hoping to convey more than he could then with the audience outside.

'Now,' she said, opening the top three buttons of her blazer, cracking her neck. 'Let's show them why you don't fuck with Flemeth & Black, shall we?'

*

Jassen drove fast. More than once, Anders shot him a glare, warning him to slow down; demands which Jassen steadfastly ignored.

Dorian had changed again. Scruffy old pair of jeans and a jumper with trainers, this time. Clothes from the back of the van which Anders called a _Go Van_. Said they were stashed here and there for when needed. Dorian didn't give it a moment's thought; his capacity for disbelief well and truly maxed out. He sat in the back of the car beside Cullen, the pair lost in wandering thoughts, in worry.

Dorian held his hand, but the journey was made in tense, dread silence, nothing to be done about it. Jassen swerved hard into the destination road and Cullen paled, leaning forward.

'You're not going in alone,' Jassen said in clear warning before they had even stopped.

'You don't understand,' Cullen told him. 'If he's come here, if he's come _home_ then it's not what you think.'

They pulled up to the curb, right in front of a run-down house, shuttered off by the council to prevent squatters.

'This could be a trap.'

'You don't know him.'

'Suffering your naivety is really becoming annoying.'

'No one asked you to _suffer_ anything,' Cullen said sharply, staring at the house, at the open side gate. 'He's come here, don't you know what that means?'

No one spoke, four pairs of eyes on a council house, a commonly built semi-detached. Cullen got out of the car without another word. Dorian opened the door, intending to follow him when Jassen turned.

'Take this,' Jassen said, handing Dorian a gun; one without a visible hammer. 'Don't hesitate.'

The gun was heavy in Dorian's hand but he took it anyway, feeling obscenely _obvious_. It was almost seven in the morning on a Sunday. Most people were asleep, were in bed, comfortable and warm, dreading work the next day. He prayed no one was looking outside.

The garden was enormously overgrown, creeping weeds and grass well beyond redemption by anything other than fire. Cullen went right around the side gate, not bothering with the front door.

He followed as fast as he could, leg twinging, but otherwise intently motivated. Dorian went around the side gate, trainers crunching through piles of dead leaves that had blown up against the wooden base, the hinges rusty and creaking. Another jungle of a garden came into view; similarly overgrown. There was a swing in the middle, cheap rope rotted away on one side, a leafless silver birch tree at the bottom, swaying in the icy breeze, stringy branches whispering.

Cullen's childhood home had clearly not been lived in for a long time. The metal guard on the back door was torn off, lying discarded nearby. Cullen was stood inside, staring into the dark, cold house, barely breathing.

'You want me to wait here?' Dorian offered quietly, wishing he didn't feel so _wary._ It was Fenris, only _Fenris_.

'No,' Cullen said, shaking himself, 'He's not going to hurt anyone. Just stay behind me.'

They walked silently inside. The place smelled of airless musk and vinegary rotted paint. A few tins were abandoned in the corner, the kitchen half magnolia, half original scarlet. Cullen glanced around, lost in an emotion that Dorian could not empathise with. _His_ childhood home had been auctioned, sold and then torn down. This place had been half renovated and given up on. The living room door frame had height tracking lines, initials that read _M C B R._

Fenris wasn't downstairs, but Cullen didn't seem to have expected him to be. He carefully ascended, step by step and Dorian followed. It was too quiet, each thud of Dorian's heart resounded in his ears. He remained behind Cullen, kept a solid two or three feet of space. The stairway carpet was caked with dust, middle three steps creaking.

Cullen looked at the floor outside the bathroom in a way that lingered before he headed into the only bedroom with an open door. 

'Fenris.’

Dorian stayed outside, but close enough to see the silver haired man standing in the middle of that empty room. He'd been staring down until Cullen spoke. At the mention of his name, his gaze lifted, locked onto his friend.

'Cullen?' he choked, relief spreading through him at a stunning rate, though he made no move towards him, nor Cullen to Fenris.

'It's me.'

Fenris turned fully, though his movements were awkward, pained. 'Wh-where were you, at work?'

Cullen's eyes moved between Fenris's as he took a single step closer. 'I was looking for you.'

'I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't…' His breath came faster now, relief falling away to reveal a foundation of something far worse, but undeniably solid. 'I never should have come back here, he's…' Fenris turned his gaze to the empty room, walls bearing marks of old blue-tack in perfect rectangles; ghosts of posters, a child's room. It was small, big enough for a single bed, just about. Had this been Fenris's room, Dorian wondered. 'Sometimes he let me… run, but, oh God. Cullen, I—I can't, everything is _muddled_ , please.'

Cullen moved closer and Fenris half stumbled, half collapsed into his friend. Cullen caught him easily by his forearms. Dorian could see how badly Fenris was shaking.

'You're safe,' Cullen promised. Fenris reached out with both hands and gripped the front of his shirt, clinging hard. He pressed his forehead into the hollow of Cullen's throat, hiding.

'Why is everything gone?' Fenris asked in a small voice. 'Did you both forget about me?'

Cullen's composure cracked for the first time, tiny break in his tone. ' _Never.'_

'I killed people,' he confessed to Cullen in a horrible barren whisper, eyes tightly shut. 'Some of them were younger than me. They would have… he made me…' Fenris's throat bobbed, words sticking on the harder parts. His shoulders rolled as a pained gasp caught in his lungs. 'I should have stayed with you and Lee. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me.'

Dorian didn't know how Cullen could be so steady. 'There's nothing to forgive. You’re here, that's all that matters.'

'Who is he?' Fenris whispered, looking sideways at Dorian once and then away very quickly.

'He's… that's Dorian. He's my boyfriend.'

'He's older than you,' Fenris said, speaking almost like a child. He moved back enough to stare up at Cullen. 'But… no, he's not. _You're_ older _.'_ Slowly _,_ frown deepening with every passing moment, Fenris extended his arms, looked at his hands, taking one step back. 'I'm older. Cullen… how long was I—?'

_'Fenris? Cullen?'_

Lee's voice coming from downstairs just about gave Dorian a heart attack, he’d been so mesmerized by the scene before him. It made Fenris sway with relief a second time around. Leliana spared the place no attention, she brushed carefully past Dorian, touching his shoulder as she moved into the small, empty room.

'Darling,' she said to Fenris, ignoring the way Cullen was glaring at her without actually _glaring_. She was supposed to be in the panic room, locked down and safe. 'We're here.'

'Lee, I'm… I'm so sorry,' Fenris told her in a rush, misery and anguish all wrapped up in strangled relief. 'I should never have left you. I love you so much. I love you and it was your choice, always your choice and I was _stupid_. I'll never leave you again, I _swear_ it.'

Leliana didn't question the apparent regression. She didn't question anything. Instead, she moved closer, without fear or hesitation and wrapped him in her arms for a moment, kissing his cheek, his temples, his forehead, simply plastering him with light, loving kisses.

'You're so cold, love.'

'Why is it empty here?' he asked when she drew back.

'We haven't lived here for a long time.'

'Where do we live?'

'We… we all live in London. Cullen with Dorian, me in Kensington and you in a small flat.'

'We don't live together?'

'You stay over a lot,' Cullen told him gently because that seemed to upset him. 'Everyone stays with everyone.'

It was a strange thing for Dorian, watching them stand there, gun in hand halfway behind his back. Dorian felt obscene for even _holding_ it.

'How old am I?'

'Twenty nine,' Lee told him.

Fenris paled.

'It's OK,' Cullen said, like it was true. 'It's all OK, we're here.'

'He has a gun,' Fenris said. 'Your boyfriend.'

Cullen didn't look away, neither did Lee. Their focus on him was absolute. ‘Dorian would never hurt you.'

'Twenty nine,' Fenris echoed, staring off to the side. 'I… have I been there that long?'

'No, you haven't. When you were nineteen, the police found you, brought you back to us. Today, the man who held you—'

'Danarius,' Fenris uttered.

'Yes, he took me to lure you there, to get you back,' Cullen explained. 'He said a phrase, it… might have triggered something.'

Fenris was quiet for a long, heavy moment before he said, _'Amatus_.'

'You remember?'

'I remember…' Fenris swallowed covertly. 'Him trying to train me with it, with Latin. Sometimes I would…'

He trailed off, seemingly unable to finish but Lee stroked the side of his face with unbearable tenderness and said, 'It's all right. We're here. We'll always be here.'

Gaze angled low in evident shame, a tear ran down his nose. 'I would pretend it worked. It was easier to pretend.'

Dorian became aware of another presence at the bottom of the stairs, hoped that it was Anders and that Anders had enough sense to stay _down_ there.

'All that matters is that you're safe,' Cullen said.

'No, you don’t understand, I-I broke their bones and cracked them until they stopped moving.’

'You did what you needed to, you came _back_ to us, just like you have now.'

Dorian had never seen Fenris so _unmoored._

'They gave me something that made me forget, but it wore off come night-time and I would remember you both and then in the morning, you'd be gone again.’

‘We’re not going anywhere.’

‘I fought and I killed.' He made a broken off sound, almost like a sob. 'Sometimes they were _scared_ and I killed them anyway.'

The word had not triggered mindless _obedience_ , Dorian realised slowly, his own throat thick with unshed tears. It had triggered his _memories_.

'Do you remember anything _after_ that?' Cullen asked, as if reading Dorian's mind.

Fenris shook his head. 'It's hard to focus. There's _so much_ there, I can feel it, but I don't… I don't want to know, do I?'

In their silence, Fenris's gaze moved to Leliana then, unwillingly lowering to her abdomen.

'I think,' he whispered, eyes overly bright. 'I hurt you, didn't I?'

'It was an accident.'

Abruptly, he pushed away from them, turned to the window and stared down at the overgrown garden below.

Leliana touched his shoulder, but Fenris shrugged away. 'Don't,' he warned, voice threatening to break. 'Don't come _near_ me. You sh-should leave, both of you. Leave me here for him to find.'

'We could never do that.'

'I _hurt_ you!' Fenris burst out, so loud that it made Dorian flinch. 'I stabbed you, Lee and… Cullen, I _left_ you with that woman! I’ve done nothing but hurt you both!'

Lee dared move closer, Fenris's back rising and falling rapidly. 'We could no more leave you than leave each other,' she swore. 'We _love_ you, we've always loved you, no matter—'

_'No matter what?_ Do you have any idea what I've _done?'_ He clutched his hair before looking down at his hands, staring. 'You have _any_ idea how much blood has been spilled by my own hands? I'm not… I left that day when we argued but I never came back, not really. I'm still _there_. I'll always be there in the pit. I _belong_ there.' Fenris sobbed again, chest catching on the inhale. 'I belong there with him. His _wolf_ , his monster.'

Cullen touched him and when he flinched away, Cullen was not deterred. He laid his hand there again, offer of comfort that was, in the moment, unacceptable to Fenris, who whirled around and shoved him away, hands smacking into the centre of his chest.

'We love you,' Cullen told him even as Fenris shoved him again, harder that time. 'And you belong with _us._ You have always belonged with us and you always will.'

' _Leave_ me,' Fenris snarled when Cullen's back hit the wall from the force of his shove. He didn't wipe his angry tears away, maybe didn't even feel them.

'Never.'

He hit Cullen. He _punched_ him. It was efficient and sharp; no staggering power behind it, but when Cullen's head snapped to the side, Lee cried out, hands over her mouth and Dorian felt like the world was spinning in the wrong direction.

‘Still think I’m worthy of a place by your side?' Fenris spat, dangerously unstable and almost shaking apart.

‘Yes.’

Something vicious twisted in Fenris. ‘Of course you do,’ he snarled, fine vibration beneath it. ‘You let people hurt you, over and over. How much do you have to suffer to _learn_ that some people are not worth your love? That some people are _bad_!’

Cullen touched his lip, fingertips red. Fenris stared at the blood there, vibrantly red, adding to other cuts and bruises on Cullen's lovely face.

Dorian knew, without having to turn, that Jassen was behind him now. The man had a smell about him; a certain kind of sweat, unmistakable and even without that, Dorian knew he would have been listening out.

'You're worth everything,' Cullen said hoarsely. 'You're my best friend and I love you.'

Fenris smashed the palms of both hands against the wall, hard enough to crack the old plaster. Dorian heard a subtle click of a hammer from behind him and Cullen's throat bobbed, Lee gasping quietly.

'Please,' Cullen uttered, never taking his gaze from Fenris. 'Please, Jas. Don't'

'They should kill me, your friends,' Fenris whispered wretchedly. 'There's a reason I didn't want to remember this, why I…' he looked away, eyes closing for a moment before he uttered, 'Why I wanted to _forget._ You know what happens to angels when they fall into hell?'

'You're not a demon.'

'What am I then?'

Silence hung heavy and tense, turning the air to powdered glass, hard to breathe and sharp in the lungs. And then Cullen said, 'You know what you are.'

Fenris shoved away from the wall, palms leaving a faint trace of blood one side, plaster falling to the bare floor boards. He staggered towards the window again. Dorian dared throw a glance over his shoulder at Jassen, whose weapon was expertly aimed.

Cullen righted himself, took a few steps forward but Lee raised her hand, bade him be still and approached in his stead.

'Fenris,' she said. 'Love, we've always known these things. We've always known what you're remembering. I'm so sorry it's happened this way, but we love you, no matter what.'

'I'm a killer.'

'We don't care.'

'I killed men who pleaded for mercy.'

'We love you.'

'I almost cut you in half,' he said coldly, but the pain he sought to inflict was all inward, Dorian could tell. 'Cullen should have killed me then.'

'I could never do that.'

Fenris laughed softly. Dorian could only see his back, make out the tension in his spine as Lee ventured ever closer, Cullen shooting the most stunning warning glare at Jassen, who completely ignored him.

'All these years, you've thought everything was your fault,' Fenris said and Dorian had no doubt who he was speaking to. 'You blame yourself for so much. Well, for once, this is quite literally all my fault. This is because Danarius wants me back. This is _all_ because of me.'

‘C _ause_ matters precious little in the light of what we feel for you,' Leliana said, her accent heightening there, losing much of its British element. 'And believe us, there is no world in which we would ever let you go back to him, as you would never permit losing one of us. We _love_ you.'

'It's not enough.'

'It has _always_ been enough,' she corrected sternly, voice like steel. 'And if love is not enough, then we’ll just love you _more_. That is our way, Fenris. It has _always_ been our way. Do you think it was easy for me, living without you for two years? Hearing your last words to me over and over in my head, knowing my stubbornness was the _cause_ of your exit?'

He turned quickly. 'You weren't—'

'Then what right have you to invoke blame? What _right_ have you to stand here and insist we recognise this so called _claim_ Danarius has over you, when you know,' she closed the final space between them, toe to toe, the same height but for an inch given her heels. 'You _know_ you belong with us?'

He searched her gaze desperately, but she was implacable. Leliana did not yield, she did not _bend_ or sway. She was the backbone, she was the steel.

Then, in a voice so low it was barely audible, he said, 'I did terrible things.'

'Terrible things are a part of life, mon coeur. We can only move onward, move forward, _together_. Qui n'avance pa, recule.'

'Je ne suit pas assez fort.'

'No,' she said, extending her beautifully manicured hand to stroke the side of his face with a tenderness that did not tremble. 'But _together_ , we are.'

Cullen said, 'We've held onto your past for a long time. We've loved you through every moment of knowing.'

It was like watching the inevitable breaking of a tree branch; one that was rotted, could not hold beneath the stress of mounting winds. It was inevitable, but Dorian still _felt_ it like a gut punch, when Fenris started to cry.

Lee drew him into her arms and carefully lowered him to the floor because his knees gave out. Cullen followed them down, holding Fenris from behind, the two of them making Fenris safe between their bodies, shielding him. It was painful to witness, raw and brutal and so _sad_ that Dorian would never be able to forget it.

'I'm so sorry,' Fenris was saying, over and over, his voice toneless and rasping.

Neither of them faltered in their care or comfort. They knew exactly what to do, how to love their friend, how to _be_ there for him. Dorian briskly wiped away his own tears, turned away and moved out of sight, bowing to an intense need to give them their privacy. Jassen grudgingly lowered his weapon as Dorian leaned against the bathroom door, heart breaking silently.

*

They left the house together, Fenris quiet and subdued, but no longer angry or vacant. He didn't look at anyone else, held onto Cullen and Lee the whole way outside. Lee's car was parked poorly, half up on the curb, door left open.

She sat him in the passenger seat, Anders' offer of a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

'He'll come for me,' Fenris said before she closed the door. 'He'll never stop.'

Leliana blinked, expression smoothing out. 'Then we'll kill him,' she promised as if normal people said things like that. As if Dorian didn't _understand_ what it felt like to know, heart and soul, that he would have done anything to get Cullen back, to protect him, keep him safe. 'Stay there, love, I'll just be a minute.'

She closed the door and wasted no time in flinging her arms around Cullen; fierce embrace which he returned whole heartedly. They whispered something that Dorian, drinking water by the back of the van, could not make out, but he saw his beautiful boyfriend wipe his eyes when they parted, half choking on a bittersweet laugh.

Jassen leant against the van, watching them with a deep frown. 'Danarius was so certain it would work.'

Dorian needed some paracetamol. Or maybe to sleep for a week.

'Huh?'

'The trigger.'

'I mean,' Dorian said, staring intently down at his water bottle, expression grim. 'It did work, it just didn't trigger what he hoped.'

Jassen made a thoughtful noise. 'Stronger than I thought.'

Anders slammed the side of the van shut, causing the van to rock. 'He's stronger than anything _you_ 'll understand,' the red head agree hotly.

The assassin seemed unaffected. 'Stop flirting with me, it's desperate as fuck.'

Dorian was exquisitely _not_ in the mood. 'So, what's the plan, then?’

'Avoiding the police, obviously,' Anders said. 'If they're as corrupt as you say—'

'They are,' Cullen said, tone clipped as he joined them. Dorian offered him his water and brown eyes met grey with silent gratitude. God, but it took everything Dorian had not to just _kiss_ him there in front of everyone because, as he'd learnt, life was apparently quite short. Holding hands felt ineffective, being close fell drastically short of giving Dorian what he so desperately wanted then, which was to run away with Cullen and the others he loved and hide forever in the mansion. Lock themselves away, find safety as he had before; in shutting the doors and shuttering his heart to anyone but those already within.

'Then we need to actively avoid them. I'll see if I can buy us time with a few remote hacks, pull facial recognition and plate scanning, but it's inevitable they'll find us eventually.'

In a low voice, roughened with so much unsaid in the moment, Cullen asked Dorian, 'Are you all right?'

Dorian wanted to say _no,_ to fall headfirst into vulnerable honesty because he _could_ be vulnerable with Cullen and he'd been learning to trust that, but this wasn't the time and he knew it. 'Bit banged up,' he managed to say, offering Cullen a brief flash of the only kind of smile he could dredge up. 'You?'

Cullen inclined his head very slightly towards the car, where Lee was now leaning protectively against the doors, phone to her ear. The sky was a confluence of bright white sunshine, obscured in thick chunks by determined charcoal clouds that warned of a deluge. Dorian had a heavy coat on now, splattered with paint, it smelled strongly of drill dust, but he was _not_ freezing to death, so that was a plus.

'I just want everyone to be safe.'

'I know,' Dorian said, squeezing his forearm. Cullen had no such coat or jacket himself, but his teeth weren't chattering and he felt warm. Cullen always ran hot. 'But that's not what I asked.'

'I'm—' Cullen shook his head, dropping his gaze with a sigh. 'Not OK, I think. But I will be, once this is over.'

_Over_. Dorian wanted it over too.

Cullen drifted into his space, both hands cupping his face, studying Dorian with concern. 'You need proper medical attention, baby.'

He was about to dive head first into a guilt trip, Dorian could tell. Feeling guilty was Cullen's go-to coping mechanism when things were rough. Dorian's hands slid warmly around his waist.

'Do you know how much I love you?' he asked, cutting Cullen off before anything could start, anything especially woeful and guilty. Cullen responded by pressing him against the back of the van, just enough for Dorian to wish for _more_ in a way that had precious little to do with sex and everything to do with affirmation. He felt incredibly disjointed, his place in the world uncertain, his membership to the mortal coil in constant jeopardy. Cullen's weight against him felt like _home._

And Dorian really just wanted to go home.

'Nowhere near as much as I love you,' Cullen rumbled, lips against the side of his mouth, palms warm and callous roughened, still cupping his cheeks. Cullen inhaled deeply, something tight in it. 'So, you remember when I warned you about my life being dramatic sometimes?'

Dorian choked out a little laugh, helpless and half hysterical, soothed instantly by Cullen's kiss, soft and shallow, but not _light_. Cullen rarely did anything _lightly_. It was almost possessive, the way Cullen held him then, the way he leaned into him, the way they _kissed,_ but Dorian thought it was more grounding than anything else. A touchstone of safety, a checkpoint.

'Right,' Dorian heard Anders huff. 'Well, if you think I'm making out with the fucking _assassin_ for symmetry, you're all gonna be sorely disappointed.'

Jassen made a dry heaving noise and Dorian sighed, their parting inevitable. It had offered strength, though, for however fleeting a reminder of what their life could be like, should they survive this. Dorian took it.

'So if the police aren't an option, what do we do now?' he asked Cullen, the blond's thumb rubbing delicately over his cheekbones as he stepped away the barest minimum.

Cullen glanced back at the car again. This would usually have been the point where Fenris explained, calm and confident, what they were going to do next because there was no situation he could not command, could not control. But he was sat in the back of Lee's car, staring ahead blindly, unavailable to command, for the time being at least.

'We need to get out of the open, first of all. Anders, where's Sophia and Madeline?'

'They're safe,' Anders told him. 'I got the last update from Stroud ten minutes ago. They're completely safe.'

'Then we need to get everyone else safe too.'

'He'll find someone,' Jassen said. 'So if you're going to huddle, make sure there's no one on the outside you can't live without.'

Lee walked over, phone in hand. 'I called everyone, updated them. Thom and the girls are all safely locked down at my place and, thank _fuck_ , Bran finally called Rosie back. He’s there with them now. Josie is with her sisters in Tunisia, they’re all holed up at their family home just to be sure. Alistair was coming back here from Spain, but he diverted his flight to Corsica, he’s in the villa. They're all as safe as can be.'

'What about Clarel?'

'She was waking as I left. Talking a hell of a lot,' Lee added, scrolling rapidly through her phone. 'Offering help, information. She seemed genuine enough. Maybe we can use her somehow.'

Jassen made a sound of deep disgust.

'Look,' Anders sighed. 'I realise I'm… a bit persona non grata right now, but you're _not_ going to be able to keep everyone safe. There will be _someone_ , somewhere that you've forgotten about, and my bet is that he'll find that person. He'll call, demand a trade and that's how it will be. If he can't do that, then he'll do something worse.'

' _Worse?'_

'He'll vanish. Lie in wait for you to think he's gone and then strike when you're not ready. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we need to go on the offensive. Samson is following orders, Danarius's men are following _orders_. He's the head of the snake and right now, he's scrambling.'

'What are you saying?'

'If we go to the police, he has us. If you hole up, he'll wait. If you run, he'll find you.'

'They should leave,' Jassen said decisively. 'We can finish him off.'

Anders rolled his eyes. 'No offence to your _legendary skills_ or whatever, but you barely survived your last encounter and that's _only_ thanks to my chemical cleverness.'

‘Chemical cleverness that nearly killed us. Look, the only one we actually _need_ is a basket case right now. They should leave, hole up in their place in the Med. It's safe there, I've checked it out.'

Dorian wished he didn't like that idea so much.

'No, splitting up is the wrong move. He'll know they've left; stage a distraction here, for us, and pursue them himself. He's not going to let Fenris go—'

'Not Fenris. _Them_. Cullen and Dorian. They should leave.'

Anders blinked. 'Oh, you make me sick.'

'You make me embarrassed for our profession.'

'I'm not a hired killer.'

'No,' Jassen smirked, dark eyes flashing. 'You're a wannabe terrorist.'

Anders made a sudden movement forward, like he was going to _hit_ Jassen, but Cullen stepped between them, easily preventing it.

'How about for now, we get out of this _highly_ exposed street in broad daylight?' Lee suggested sharply. 'Fenris is in shock. We can't help him here and this, whatever the fuck this is,' she gestured between the pair of professionals. 'Can _wait_.'

*

Dorian went with Anders and Jassen in the van, only to ensure they didn't kill one another. Cullen drove Lee's car, his friends curled up in the back together. A million things were whirring through Dorian's mind as they made good time bombing down the motorway headed to what Anders assured them was a _safe place_.

It was hard to focus, especially with the other pair bickering.

In any other mood, Dorian might have found it interesting, the basis of their dislike. That both loved men who were unavailable, who could not love them back like they wanted. That both were used to dealing in extremes. The difference between them being that Jassen seemed entirely comfortable with who he was and Anders… well, he seemed less accepting.

'Thank you, by the way,' Dorian told Anders.

Anders shot him a quizzical glance as he drove. 'For what?'

'The bomb. I didn't thank you before. I know it, uh. Well, bombs are bad overall, but it got us out of there and bought us time so, thank you. Thank you for everything.'

'Oh. Well, you're welcome,' he replied after a moment of confusion, perhaps unsure about how to proceed in such a way. 'I should have warned you what I was going to do. I'm sorry you were hurt.'

'It's better than being dragged back down there.'

Anders smiled, kept on driving. After a minute or so of quiet, Jassen gave an indignant tut.

'Uh, _hello?'_

'No one's thanking you. You're only doing this because you're obsessed with Cullen,' Anders scoffed.

But… damn it, that wasn't quite right. Dorian, mildly hating himself, sighed heavily.

'Thank you, Jassen, for everything you've done.'

He half expected a sarcastic comment, maybe even some overly obnoxious pretence of gratitude, but Jassen just gave a small nod and returned his attention to the world passing by in a blur, one knee against his chest.

'All right, so, like,' Anders began with the tone of one who already regretted asking. 'Aside from Cullen, what do you care about?'

Jassen looked back. 'Are you talking to me?'

'No, I'm getting to know the _steering wheel._ Yes, _you_!'

After deliberating for a moment, Jassen replied, 'Not much.'

'You have no beliefs? No cause?'

'To justify my actions, you mean?'

'Well, yeah.'

'Well, _no_. Sorry to disappoint.'

Anders sighed. 'It's disappointing that I'm _not_ disappointed, truth be told. I did just sort of hope there was more to you than single minded trauma bonding obsession.'

Dorian could almost feel Jassen prickle. 'What do _you_ believe, then?'

'I believe in good,' Anders said without hesitation. 'I believe in equal rights, in caring for the poorest and weakest among us.'

Jassen turned to face Anders almost fully. 'And what would you do to see your beliefs through?'

'Ideally? I mean, overthrowing capitalism is the main objective, a complete re-think of the financial structure of the country, voting Tories out, obviously—'

'Would you blow up a building? Blow up parliament like you did that warehouse?'

Anders' hand tightened on the wheel. 'It wouldn't achieve anything.'

'What if it would?'

'Violence is a last resort, it should _always_ be a last resort.'

'Sometimes it's all you have to protect what you love. Does that justify it?'

No answer. Dorian wished they'd put the fucking radio on or something.

'You believe in many things, causes a-plenty. You're the kind to write it down, even. Bet you've got a manifesto somewhere, right? Yeah. You know the kind of people who write manifestos?'

'I don't kill for pleasure, you don't get to judge me.'

'You have causes, you have a system of beliefs. I only have one. You can mock it of you want, but it's _my_ cause. It's real to me.'

'And what if Cullen died?'

Dorian's throat clenched helplessly, the mere _concept_ unacceptable agony. Jassen stared for a long time before he said, 'Then I'd burn the world.'

'That's not justice.'

'No, it's _vengeance_. There is no justice. It's a child's ideal, one you're almost ready to let go of. Won't be long, you'll see.'

Dorian turned the radio on. 'Ah,' he said, falsely cheerful, knuckling between his eyes. 'Who doesn't love the Spice Girls, eh?'

*

Another location unknown, another unfamiliar place. This time, it was in the middle of the woods. A cabin in the _actual_ Kentish woods and Dorian could not even work up the energy to be displaced anymore. He got out, the earth frozen beneath his trainers, the sun unable to penetrate with such dense foliage overhead, even in midwinter. Frost crunched beneath each footfall. It gave everything a crisp, crystalline quality, cold enough to make Dorian's lungs spasm reflexively, to make him shiver.

The cabin was nicer than he expected and almost completely obscured in the shade, hard to find without prior knowledge. When Anders unlocked it, Dorian peered inside and saw that it was clean and spacious, if utterly freezing.

Cullen and Lee brought Fenris inside just as Anders knelt to light a fire in the hearth, briefly filling the air with an acrid tang, subtle scent of woodsmoke before the chimney drew out what heat guided up.

'I'll wait outside for a bit,' Jassen said, looking away from the fire with a flicker of something unfamiliar. 'Keep watch.'

'That sounds like a _lovely_ idea,' Anders chirped, filling a kettle with water and turning it on.

Fenris went to the back of the cabin, to the place where the light was coming from, rain-stained sliding doors. He slumped down, back against the wall, knees up, staring out of the smeared glass, slightly green around the edges. He looked so small there.

When they seemed sure he was looking away, Lee put her hand over her mouth allowing herself a single moment of weakness. Cullen kissed her hair, the pair of them briefly entangled in their attempts to offer comfort in silence. Dorian couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this much hugging. She recovered fast, as if taking strength from his embrace and briskly wiped away her tears.

'Let me help you with the tea,' she said to Anders, voice only _slightly_ wobbling.

Anders expression was mild. 'Oh, that's all right, I'm happy to—'

'You might make it wrong,' she said sternly. 'It wasn't an offer.'

Dorian joined Cullen seeking out immediate contact, the instinct was entirely second nature. Palm to palm, fingers slotting perfect, the warmth of Cullen's chest against his own, feel of him, sturdy and solid. They kissed briefly, held fiercely before parting once more.

'I love you,' Cullen said, light brown eyes moving between Dorian's; not so much studying, not quite seeking, just basking for a rare moment. 'I love you so much.'

'I love you… wait, who's turn is it? I've lost track.'

They smiled in tandem. 'It's my turn,' Cullen said after a moment of just standing there, touching, being perfectly, beautifully close. Dorian did so _love_ casual touches; easy, abundant affection.

'Has it really only been a _day_?'

Sobering slightly, Cullen pushed back Dorian's hair from the front, place where some of his loose, black locks were curling at the tips in the absence of meticulous styling. He inhaled deeply. 'You're so beautiful.'

Dorian had no mirror to see himself, could only trust Cullen's word, despite his boyfriend's heavy bias. Cullen also tended to think he was beautiful while swimming in massive, heavy coats and scarves, bundled up in hats and gloves, so he wasn’t exactly the best judge. He liked the way Dorian looked in the morning, liked to chase him around the bed, demanding to kiss him before he brushed his teeth while Dorian breathlessly laughed his refusals, eventually capitulating when captured beneath a warm body. Cullen's sense of security and trust in his own strength was always at absolute peak first thing in the morning. Strange reversal of their night time dynamic, but he always thought Dorian was beautiful and it did make him biased, of course.

But Dorian trusted it anyway, despite having the distinct feeling he looked like absolute trash. It was nice, to have someone think the world of him.

'So are you,' he offered to Cullen, which was the complete and utter truth because Cullen Rutherford, even messed up with dried blood, tiny cuts on his face, bruises and streaks of grime, was utterly stunning in every way. If anything, it just made him look even _more_ lovely, heroic, even.

Kind of like Keanu.

Cullen brought their faces close enough to brush their noses, his warm strong arms around Dorian's back. 'What are you thinking about, baby?'

Dorian suppressed a tiny laugh then, thing that was only _mostly_ born of hysteria. 'I was thinking about… um.'

Cullen waited, stroking his hair back still, fingers pushing through raven locks which were most likely in dire need of yet another shower.

He couldn't help letting a tiny bit of laughter free that time. 'OK, well, this is embarrassing, but I sort of had a fantasy about you being Keanu Reeves once.'

Cullen's answering laugh was the blurted out kind, natural and unstoppable, indicating surprise. 'What?' Then his eyes widened, jaw dropping. 'That night you were watching _Speed_! Oh my God, you were _… y'know_ , weren't you! I knew it!'

Dorian huffed. 'You didn't _know_ it.'

'I did, you were…' Cullen gestured with his hand and Dorian's cheeks went _stupidly_ red and hot because this was _Not The Place_ and _Definitely Not The Time,_ even though Cullen didn't seem to care who saw or heard, never did. 'Oh my God, I totally knew it. Were you thinking of me as Keanu or just playing the role?'

'Maybe we shouldn't discuss this in front of—'

'Literally no one cares,' Lee called out, clanging around with cups. 'We've heard worse from you on the way to work in the back of the car.'

'Oh, they're always like it?' Anders asked, politely conversational.

Lee snorted. 'This is pretty tame.'

Dorian wanted to feel indignant, but Cullen was _kind of_ kissing him, just sort of brushing their lips back and forth, side to side, still beaming about being proved _right_ from a suspicion well over six months prior.

'Were you my Sandra Bullock?' he asked, amusement not quite enough to overwhelm the obvious, ill-timed desire Dorian could sense as they stood in the _middle_ of a safehouse, Fenris staring out of the glass on the floor nearby, likely in all kinds of mental and emotional anguish, Lee aggressively making tea with a man she fervently disliked, the assassin outside standing guard. He gave Dorian a fairly shrewd look then, grinning wolfishly. 'Was it the flak jacket?'

Dorian sighed, giving up. 'It was… a little bit the flak jacket, yes. But now it's… well, you have all these cuts.' He put his fingertips to Cullen's cheek, touching a few of the smaller ones. His boyfriend didn't wince and Dorian tried to ignore how that _term_ was starting to feel woefully inadequate to describe the love of his life, his Cullen. 'We're… sort of in an intense situation.'

'If you're gonna have sex, there's a bathroom,' Anders pointed out helpfully, stirring tea. 'Also, _Speed_ Keanu left me kind of cold. It's _Point Break_ for me.’

'How were you even looking at Keanu when Patrick Swayze was in that film?' Lee demanded.

Dorian felt his attention drawn, inevitably, back to Cullen once more when the blond pressed his lips to the place just below his ear and whispered, 'When we get home, we can play it if you want. I'll get a flak jacket and everything.'

It was a bad time to turn into a quivering pile of shivery goo, but Dorian couldn't help it. He was mentally debating how truly unforgivable it might actually be if he dragged Cullen into Anders's proffered bathroom and gave into the surging, swelling bittersweet clash within, a storm of emotions and desires that demanded they connect, lock together, make each other _feel_ every part of their love… while they still could.

'Yes, please,' he said, because it was that or an embarrassing sound from the very lowest regions of his voice box and that sound, he knew, would lead to _irreversible_ sex territory. 'That would be lovely.'

Cullen kissed him, teasingly gentle and not what he wanted or needed in the moment. It warmed Dorian a bit to know that Cullen was, at least, in the frame of mind where he was able to kiss Dorian like this. Not drowning in guilt or fretful concern. It was nice, it was better than nice.

'OK, well, I greatly look forward to being your himbo super-cop. I'm going to make some food.'

Dorian sighed, closest thing to content he was capable of feeling. 'Of course you are.'

Cullen kissed him again, smiling as their lips touched, smiling despite so _much_ and though Dorian's heart rate did not (could not) yet lower back to normal levels, he no longer felt like he was going to _die_ unless he could get in Cullen's lap.

Cullen joined Anders in the kitchen with Lee, going right for the fridge to assess what he had to work with. Dorian looked at the glass doors and aggressively willed away his wholly inappropriate life or death flak jacket induced _arousal_.

'Hey,' Dorian greeted Fenris. 'Can I sit here? I won't talk if you don't want.'

Fenris's gaze was distant, seemingly unreachable, but he nodded all the same. Dorian sat in the mirroring position on the other side of the door frame, plenty of space between them.

'Thank you,' Fenris said after a few beats. 'You kept him safe.'

'Oh,' Dorian said. 'You uh, remember now?'

Another nod.

'Well, I didn't keep him safe as much as stayed with him. It was you who rescued us.' He left out the parts about Jassen, left out a lot.

They didn't say anything for a long time. Dorian's arm was cool where it touched the glass; thicker than normal glass, he realised.

Fenris spoke very quietly. 'He's not going to stop coming for me.'

'That doesn't mean he'll succeed.'

Eyes closing, Fenris said, 'I understand now, why Cullen would push us away. Why he'd hurt us, try to make us leave him.'

Dorian heard cracking eggs, hissing of yolk meeting oil. Low level chatter to provide privacy, to make white noise for them.

'We're stronger together.'

'I'll just pull them all down with me.'

'I dunno. I'm pretty buoyant. Maybe I'll keep us all afloat with my wit and charm.'

Eyes still closed, Fenris cracked a tiny smile. 'Charm maybe. I don't know about wit.'

'Um, my wit is extravagant and delightful.'

'Does snark count as wit?'

'Oh please, I am a tea-room _marvel_. I've wit coming out my ears. Just when you think things are grim and hopeless, along I come with my indefatigable sunny personality.'

Fenris snorted lightly. 'Many things you are, Pavus, but _sunny_ …' He trailed off, eyes opening, furrowed brown erasing the small smile. ' Lee,' he called out, looking towards the kitchen. 'Lee, did we warn Alistair?'

'Of course,' she answered. 'He was about to fly back from the south of Spain when I called, so I told him to fly to the villa and hunker down.'

'You're positive he's safe?'

'Yes. He checked in with me when he arrived, sent a selfie and everything. He's been sending updates since, just like the others. I have his last message,' she said, pulling out her phone and hovering between the open plan kitchen and the living room area. 'Here we go. He sent one literally nine minutes ago. _"Totally fine, hope you're all OK, keep me updated,"_ plus a ton of kisses.'

Something niggled at Dorian's subconscious then, but Fenris seemed to accept it that time so Dorian let it go, choosing to worry about what was in front of him.

'As long as he's OK,' Fenris relented, frown slowly easing.

Lee returned to the kitchen after momentary deliberation, Cullen gesturing her over. Dorian liked that they trusted him to be there for Fenris almost as much as they could be, albeit in a different way. Dorian had always liked Fenris, right from the very first. They'd been fast friends, if in a somewhat unconventional manner.

'Do you remember everything now?'

'It's…' Fenris settled back against the frame, arms around his knees. The position reminded Dorian of the way Jassen had _not-slept_. 'Like two pieces of myself trying to smash and meld. Fucking monstrous thing, but I'm trying not to let it, hmm.' He swallowed for a moment, an edge of panic about him that he fought back quickly. 'Trying to keep myself together.'

'Like Peter Pan and his shadow?'

Fenris huffed what might have been a laugh. 'You and your metaphors.'

' _Accurate_ metaphor, though, right?'

'I'll allow it.'

'I think you're doing brilliantly, for what it's worth.'

'It's difficult. I feel like…' he sighed, almost entirely without emotion in that moment, dropping his voice so only Dorian could hear. 'Like I want to die.'

'The trick, so I was once told,' Dorian said, after a few contemplative beats. 'Is letting people help.'

Green eyes met grey and the smile softened into something real at last, if very thin. 'I'm glad you're my friend.'

'Me too. I'm an excellent friend to have.'

It didn't _quite_ work. He could not make light of what was still so dark, but Fenris did seem more present, so he counted it as a win.

'I'm sorry about what happened in the field, by the barn.'

Dorian's heart did a strange flip to recall that awful conversation, the sensation of _losing_ someone he loved while they were right in front of him. 'You saying goodbye.'

'It felt inevitable. That I'd had more time than I deserved anyway. I think, when I really search myself, a part of me always knew I was fated to go back there. That he would come for me. I'm still sorry, though. I know what it's like to have someone try to be brave and tell you goodbye. It's an awful thing. I shouldn't have done that.'

The pads of Dorian's fingertips ran absently over rough denim, pleasantly distracted by the feel of the threads, by little bumps here and there caused by over-washing.

'You did what you thought was right. Thank God for Jassen, eh?' he added wryly. ' _There_ 's something I never thought I'd say.'

'Maybe I misjudged him.'

'Let's not go _that_ far.'

'All right,' Fenris permitted with a content sigh. 'Not that far.'

There was a breadth of quiet companionship for a while, the others busy in the kitchen, talking and cooking. The mismatched pair sat by the glass, watching condensation spread slowly on the outer edges of the doors, watching the wind move over the woodlands stretched all before them.

Dorian took a purposeful breath. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Yes.'

They spoke in lower tones now, but no less friendly. It was not an urgent life or death question, after all. 'What did Cullen mean, back at the house?'

Fenris lifted his cheek from his knee, looking at Dorian placidly.

'Hmm?'

'He said, _you know what you are_. What did he mean?'

Fenris smiled, mostly around the eyes, with something bittersweet. 'Cullen said to me once that everyone's life was better without him in it. I told him…' Fenris trailed off, contemplation of that memory, of the past moment demanding his fullest attention perhaps. 'I told him he was the sun.'

Dorian glanced over towards the kitchen, the man he loved coming in and out of view. Bruised and cut, Cullen was busy making something good for them to eat, focused on his task even while touching Lee whenever he could, hand to her lower back rubbing where it often ached. She spoke of serious things, he could tell by Cullen's expression of focused concern. Dorian suspected it wasn't going anywhere for a while.

'He called me that once, I think. Told me I was the sun.'

Fenris's gaze was drawn back to the cold, bright landscape. 'Very apt.'

'So, that's what he meant?' Dorian pushed, not sure _why_ he was pushing. 'He was saying you're the sun?'

'No,' Fenris said evenly. 'You're his sun, have been, right from the start. You know, the more we say this, the more I realise it's a clunky metaphor.' He chuckled with what little humour he was able to dredge up. 'I don't quite have his way of saying things, his poetry. It was a struggle, even then, to put into words what he means to me. The sun was the closest approximation I could verbalise at the time.'

Dorian imagined a time when Fenris had tried to tell Cullen those things, knew that their past was fraught with complications and struggles. He wondered how it would have sounded, wondered at the context.

He also realised, as Cullen announced breakfast was ready, that Fenris hadn't actually _told_ him what Cullen had meant, not explicitly, but Dorian suspected he knew anyway, had only been curious about their love language when under strain.

Dorian's and Cullen's was to touch; to take a palm, press to one's heart and speak true atop that solid, steady rhythm, pulsing anchor to safety and honesty. Their love language was praise and reassurance, it was absolute, perfect trust. Intimacy in intensity, nothing held back, _here, take all of me, take it all, I trust you and you'll trust me and we'll be better to each other than those who came before._

It was making each other shine bright, encouraging radiance.

Apt indeed.

It made Dorian happy to see Fenris sat between them both, his best friends. Lee's arm around his lower waist, Cullen close enough to almost always be touching his side, serving Fenris first, always Fenris first.

Dorian wondered if he should ever have _begrudged_ them their instinctual tight-knit intimacy. He decided it didn't matter, not least because even if it _was_ proper to be jealous, he simply _couldn't_ be _._ He'd learned long ago never to judge Cullen's life by what might be considered _normal_ parameters because that way only served to remind him how insufficient _normal_ really was. That _normal_ was bread and water compared to the lovingly created banquet that was his boyfriend's world.

Cullen being Cullen made food for everyone, Jassen included, though the assassin insisted on staying outside to keep watch. Dorian ate his French toast with beans, basic fare that still tasted delicious because Cullen put butter and salt in the beans, made French toast that lightly crunched on the outside, soft and savoury on the inside. His tea was perfectly brewed.

The small comfort offered by food and company, point of familiarity, it grounded Dorian. Made him feel stronger, helped him think clearer.

'We need to go on the offensive, don't we?' he said when everyone was finished, sat around a small wooden table, sound-scape of rustling trees mixing with the crackle of fire consuming wood. It felt like a hidden, secret place, but Dorian knew they weren't safe. Just out of reach, and even then, only briefly.

He could tell, right away, that Cullen did not like that word _we_.

Anders looked at Fenris. 'I think Dorian is right. He won't expect that, this man. But also,' he added delicately. 'He might think it's _worked,_ the trigger. Perhaps we could use that to our advantage.'

Cullen looked at him. 'How?'

'We have precious few advantages, I'm simply saying—'

'I wasn't criticising,' he explained. 'I simply don't see how we can possibly _use_ the expectation against him.'

Of course he couldn't see it. Dorian wished _he_ couldn't see it.

Fenris answered heavily. 'By setting a trap of our own.' He glanced at the door and called out, louder than before, 'Jassen, get in here.'

'I can hear you just fine,' the assassin called back from outside.

Fenris looked at the fireplace and only rolled his eyes a tiny bit. 'You can stand by the door, just get in here.'

Reluctance stained Jassen's expression as he hovered in the doorway, arms crossed. 'The terrorist is right.'

Anders grit his teeth. 'I am _not_ —'

'Sorry, sorry. The _aspiring_ terrorist is right and so is Dorian. Danarius will expect you to hole up, to focus on keeping people safe. He knows you'll fail. You can never keep _everyone_ safe. Love is messy and contagious and he knows that. If we about turn, run at him while he's looking for us elsewhere, maybe there's a chance.'

'The police are the issue,' Leliana said. 'Were it not for them, we could move much more freely.'

'That and Cullen being world famous,' Dorian added, their gazes meeting then, strange bolt of heat and non-existent friction that came out of nowhere. 'He's far too recognisable.'

'So are you,' Cullen said quickly. 'If I'm being made to sit this out for that reason, then so are you.'

'You should both sit it out,' Jassen said wearily. 'You're both useless.'

'Uh, ouch?' Dorian said, only able to dredge up the barest of indignation. 'Cullen wasn't _useless_ when he saved your life.'

'And Dorian was hardly useless when he—'

'If we set a trap,' Lee interrupted purposefully. 'What would that entail?'

'We can't do both, you understand. Taking a stand and setting a trap are, by nature, mutually exclusive,' Anders explained. He seemed tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, skin pale.

'They weren't mutually exclusive in _Predator,'_ Dorian heard himself say.

Cullen bit down a smile and Jassen said, ' _Huh,'_ like that gave him pause for thought, but Anders didn't seem impressed, rubbing his eyes.

'It was a _stand_ , using traps. Arnie didn't set a trap, he took a stand. There's a difference. If we set a trap, we would need to wait until he thinks he's in a position of power.'

Cullen stared, lips parting in shock. _'Let_ him take someone?'

'And then offer up Fenris in exchange, _or_ ,' Anders added. 'We don't wait. We go hard. Locate him, drop everything we have before he gets to someone. That way is messy. Risky.'

'Risky how?'

'Aside from posing danger to us in the immediate, he could get away. Slip through cracks in the chaos. Hide away like he did before, rebuild slowly and gear up for another attack down the road.'

'No,' Fenris said tightly, gaze fixed downward at the table. 'We can't risk that, but we can't wait for him to take someone either.'

Jassen sighed, running a hand through his hair. 'If we offer you up without reason to do so, he'll suspect. You know as well as I do,' he said, looking at Fenris. 'He's not a stupid man.'

Fenris made a face as if swallowing something disgusting. 'I could contact him myself, say I want to come home.'

He and Jassen stared at one another for a long moment. 'That might work.'

'How would that work and also, _no!'_ Lee snapped, arm tightening around his waist protectively.

'Sometimes, he would… let me run,' Fenris answered, dropping his gaze again. 'He'd leave an opening for me to escape, and I would try but I never got far.'

Dorian's mouth felt very dry, despite the tea. 'Why not?'

'He always promised that if I left, two more would take my place.'

No one asked which two.

'So, when I couldn't run anymore, I would stop. Contact him, tell him I wanted to… come home. It was only a handful of times. Three or four. The last one was in Folkestone. I ran from Jassen's pit after fighting him. I made it to the waterfront.'

'We looked for you there,' Cullen said quietly. 'Someone thought they saw you.'

Anders pressed his fingers together in a steeple. 'How did you contact him?'

'There's a number,' Fenris said, reaching for a leftover piece of toast, no doubt cold by now. Dorian couldn't contain his surprise when he threw it to Jassen, who caught it with one hand, nodding in thanks. 'I used a pay-phone. It's… it doesn't call anyone. It activates a trace. I waited there each time, always a pay-phone. I could do that, wait for him to take me and then when he thinks he has me under his thrall, I can kill him.'

'No fucking way,' Leliana said fiercely. ' _No_! And I realise when I say that, no one is really hearing me, but I refuse to let a plan so foolhardy and fucking _stupid_ go ahead. To go in _alone_ is the exact wrong move. It's how he'll win, relying on the typicality of male self-sacrifice. No. Whatever we do, we do it _together_.'

Fenris looked at her, gaze roaming. Took in every part of her, every visible emotion. 'All right. I promise, no self-sacrifice.'

'Make Cullen promise too,' she demanded quickly. 'He's the worst offender.'

'I'm not—' Cullen objected, but relented quickly. 'All right, no self-sacrifice.'

'Dorian.'

Dorian rolled his eyes. 'Not that anyone evil actually _wants_ me, but yes, you have my word.'

Jassen brightened. 'And my bow!'

Anders half grinned. 'And my axe. Though in all fairness, Jassen, if _you_ wanted to sacrifice yourself, we'll muddle through, I promise.'

Dorian looked around the room, took a single second to marvel at how complicated it all was. The triad, Dorian and Cullen, Jassen loving Cullen, Anders loving Fenris, Fenris loving Lee but not _being_ together, Lee bearing scars of Anders' knife and loving Fenris in return. Dorian was, in all honesty, the least complicated part of it.

The only way for it to be more complicated, he mused, would have been to have Alistair there.

The niggling feeling returned _hard_ , sudden sensation of something cold at the base of his spine. He couldn't place it, could not identify the phantom bad feeling when thinking of his friend.

'Lee,' he said, unable to help how his throat tightened. 'Can I see that message from Alistair?'

The previously relaxed tension vanished. 'Of course,' she said, handing the phone over. Dorian scrolled past dozens of messages. Check-ins from Rosalie, from Josie. Apologies from Bran. Updates from Morrigan about the state of the world they'd left behind. News alerts about the missing alternative superstar. Police enquiries, visits to Lee's place. So much was _happening_ outside that cabin.

There it was.

**_All fine here, hope you're OK, keep me updated xxxxx_ **

Dorian's blood turned to water.

He stood so fast that he knocked his chair back, heart lurching high, wedging in the base of his throat because Alistair…

Alistair had been the one to tell him about kisses. In a foreign supermarket, piling two trolley's high, reading Dorian's texts from Cullen upside down, he’d told him.

Dorian's memory was thinly stretched by exhaustion and it was hard to focus over the cacophony of everyone asking him what was wrong, but that had been one of the best nights of his life and he remembered it vividly. He'd even explained it to Sera and Lana, the wisdom Alistair had imparted to him.

_"His kiss game is all off though, bless him,"_ he'd said, all those months ago, Hawaiian shirt and painted fingernails. _"No one understands how many kisses to put. It_ _’s one for flirting, two for family, three for true love, four for an apology and five to warn that you’re mental."_

Five to warn, five to _warn_.

In all the thousands of times they'd text one another, Alistair had never, ever put five kisses.

'Something's wrong,' he said without preamble. 'Five kisses, he—he told me something once, about five kisses.'

He gave the phone back to Lee, who handed it straight to Anders. The red head pulled a laptop from his bag on the floor and began typing quickly. 'You're certain?' she asked, quietly stricken.

Dorian nodded, even though he didn't _want_ to be certain, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

'His phone pinged a few minutes ago, he's at that location still, in Corsica.'

'Your hideaway,' Jassen said. ‘Danarius knows you might go there. Knows it's somewhere you consider safe.'

'Good place to lie in wait with a hostage,' Anders admitted.

'He should have been here with us,' Fenris said, voice strangled. 'Should have been with everyone else we love. If he's hurt him, I swear to God—'

'But he couldn't _be_ there already, Danarius,' Anders pointed out, frowning. 'It's been less than two hours.'

'If he's not there already, then that's where we need him to be,' Fenris said, standing also, something determined and _cold_ coming into every element of him. 'No CCTV for miles, isolated, no corrupt police he can rely on. Only the amount of men he can bring with him. That's _our_ land, our territory. He doesn't know it like we do.'

'Alistair,' Lee uttered miserably. 'Fuck, I should have done better by him, checked in on him more.’

'Nothing will happen to him,' Fenris promised fiercely as the others stood, Jassen watching quietly.

'Leaving the country will be difficult,' Cullen pointed out. 'Even with a private plane.'

'We would need a distraction,' Jassen said, stepping inside finally. ' _And_ being that I'm the one with the morally bankrupt but highly effective ideas that everyone detests, I _do_ actually have a suggestion.'

His gaze moved subtly to Dorian, resting there until everyone else followed suit. Cullen seemed to understand last, eyes widening, furious scowl forming in an instant.

' _No fucking way!'_

_*_

The doctor sent in was someone who clearly worked for Morrigan. The man loudly proclaimed that Dorian was fine, saying nothing of the gun shot wound in Dorian’s thigh and even wrote a brief report of such.

Morrigan had just filled out page four of her handwritten notes when the Doctor left and was swiftly replaced by the man who worked for Danarius. Samson walked _into_ the interview room and sat down, giving Dorian a tiny heart attack.

'All fixed up, then?' he asked calmly, not a trace of concern, recognition. Nothing. He didn't even seem injured, except for a red patch on one side of his face. Something like a burn. 'Fancy a chat?'

Dorian’s instincts clenched hard, but he didn’t falter.

Morrigan stared at him with that manner of a cold gaze that made lesser men shudder, but Samson was clearly used to staring at terrifying people and he simply gave her a pleasant smile.

'I'm ready, yeah,' Dorian said.

'Are you on the case, Detective Chief Inspector?' she enquired before Samson could draw breath to put behind his _questions_.

'I am leading the investigation into the disappearance of Cullen Rutherford. Case which has now morphed into a suspected terrorist plot with underground criminal ties. Dorian, may I call you Dorian?'

Dorian nodded, his skin cold and clammy.

'Dorian,' Samson said heavily, gaze unreadable. 'I think I understand why you're here.'

'I need help.'

'Yes, you do,' Samson agreed, brows raising, expression stony. 'And I'm here to offer it. Now, listen to me very carefully. I _know_ there were others involved. I know for a fact that there was a man involved who you're protecting. A bad man.'

'That sounds worryingly like you're pressuring my client, or worse, leading him.'

'No more than you, Miss Korcari.'

'As his counsel, I am more than entitled to offer guidance, whereas DCI of Organised Crime Units is perhaps _less_ entitled to do so.'

'It's—' Dorian shook his head. 'It's fine. Let him speak.'

Morrigan sat back, tapping the nib of her pen on expensive paper.

'By all means, continue to _wade_ deeper, Detective Chief Inspector,' she purred threateningly, the only person Dorian had ever known who could pull off such a thing.

'This _bad man,_ ' Samson went on, looking back at Dorian. 'Maybe you think you want to leave him out of it, maybe you think you ought to. That if you keep the story small and simple, it'll be easier on you down the road but I promise,' he said with subtle emphasis. 'That if you want to name that man, you _will_ be protected.'

Dorian wished he had Fenris there to whisper to him what Samson's motives were. Wished he could understand it the way Jassen or Anders would have, instinctual understanding of this underworld that had eluded him all his life. As it was, he hadn't prepared for this. Didn't know what to do.

Thankfully, though, he wasn't entirely alone.

Morrigan gave a tiny shake of her head.

'I've already told you,' Dorian said firmly. 'His name is Jassen Emory.'

'I see,' Samson said, reaction unfathomable. 'Well, in that case, continue giving your statement with Detectives Keran and Thrask. I'll go and continue using every resource available to me to try and find Cullen Rutherford.'

Dorian's back teeth ground together.

'What happened to your face?'

Samson hesitated, halfway to standing. 'Pardon?'

'Your face,' Dorian said, neutral and clipped. 'Looks like you _burned_ it. Fell asleep on the toaster, maybe?'

Samson stared for a long, protracted moment before he forced a smile across his features and sat back down. 'You know, we had your brother and sister in here until a few hours ago. My, _my_ , they're in hot water, I don't mind telling you. All manner of shit we're uncovering about them. Looks like they might have colluded with your boyfriend's stalker, hired him even. There's a paper-trail to be followed. I wonder where it will lead.'

'I don't speak to them, Evelyn and Maxwell.'

'You spoke to them last night, turned up just as they were being arrested. Tricky thing about cameras, they're just _everywhere_. Your siblings have likely ties to funding terrorism, were you aware of that?'

'No.'

'We have a dossier on you,' Samson said, arms crossed, gaze focused. 'We have them for all relatives of high calibre criminals, even ones like your Father who turned informant. Yours is rather _colourful_.'

'That is _quite_ enough,' Morrigan warned. 'This level of intimidation will not—'

'Funny how _you're_ here without Cullen, isn't it?' Samson cut over, eyes flashing. 'Pair of you are joined at the hip most times, no? Your story so far is shaky at best, Pavus. You go to the warehouse, there's conflict, it explodes. What then? Why not come to the police? You got what you wanted, after all. You had Cullen. Where did you go, after all facial recognition technology so _conveniently_ took a hit? When license plate tracking went on the fritz? What have you been doing in all the hours since then?'

'Am I giving _you_ my statement?'

'I'm just asking.'

'Oh, inspecting, you mean? Because that's what you are, isn't it? That's what you stand for, protecting the people. Solving crime.'

' _Maybe_ ,' Samson whispered silkily. 'You're not here for help, but to cause a big old scene. You're good at that, aren't you?'

The door burst open and Thrask marched inside, his face red, Keran and three others at his heel who had the good sense to remain outside the door, hovering uncertainly.

'Samson!' he barked, looking between the DCI and Dorian. 'A word?'

Samson and Dorian stared at each other, neither blinking until Samson's mouth twisted with displeasure and he rose from the table, visibly irritable. He said nothing, left in angry silence and Dorian willed his heart to calm, to be steady.

Keran took Samson's seat, watching the door after it had closed.

'Sorry about that,' he said, giving Morrigan a strained apologetic smile.

Dorian half expected her to hiss about all the emotional damages they would be suing for. 'Not at all,' she said, as close to _pleasant_ as Morrigan Korcari was capable.

'Now, where were we? Any further medical attention you require?'

'No,' Dorian said. ‘Doctor told me I’m fine.'

Keran had three drinks that he'd set on the table. Dorian looked at the triangle, tried not to let his insides sting with worry at the helpless connotation. 'I managed to find you a green tea, Miss Korcari,' he said, pushing one of the cups towards her.

'Well, well,' Morrigan purred, glancing up from her notes. 'How impressive, thank you.'

'So,' Keran said, attention swivelling back to Dorian. 'Would you like to continue now? We can start again.'

There was a loud crash from somewhere outside the room, followed by distant, angry yelling.

'The fuck is that?' Dorian muttered.

'Police business,' Keran said simply. 'Although I should tell you that Thrask and I just got through talking with DCI De Chanson. Clarel had plenty to say, not only about you and your friends, either.'

'Hmm,' Dorian commented, not trusting himself to speak. 'Right, well.' He looked at Morrigan, turned to her notes and tapped his finger at the delicately obscured capital letters. 'Still the same?'

Morrigan nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'Let's proceed.'

*

'We're not splitting up, no _way!_ ' Cullen said over and over, with a variety of different reasons each time. 'And like _fuck_ is Dorian the distraction!'

Dorian had already reconciled the fact that he could do this, _would_ do this. The others were prepared to trust that he would be in no more danger than he was now, especially in the limelight as Cullen's boyfriend. To kill him inside the police station would unavoidably implicate the police. So long as he went there but gave no reason for Samson to act rashly, he would have their attention just long enough to let the others slip out of the country, while eventually alerting Samson to the fact that Dorian _was_ a distraction. It would make them seem desperate, make them seem weak.

Because contrary to what Anders had said, it _was_ possible to make a stand and set a trap, but the risk was high.

Dorian watched his boyfriend _(inadequate term, lacking entirely)_ work himself into a fine frenzy about the very _concept_ of leaving Dorian behind in England, of shoving him under the police spotlight for Samson to see, to panic over and watch like a hawk.

'If I do it, I'll be shot on sight,' Jassen said, as if there was any doubt he would not leave Cullen's side. 'Anders is, however it pains me to say it, too useful to sacrifice.'

'I could do it, but I'm witness to nothing, Samson would not fret over me walking in there,' Lee said while Cullen's hands pulled at his hair, breath coming fast and panicked.

'If I give myself up, Danarius will retreat, reclaim me and then kill all of you later.' Fenris looked to Cullen, quietly imploring. 'I hate it too, but he's almost as well-known as you are, he'd be under enormous scrutiny. That would protect him as well as draw Samson's focus enough for Danarius to realise it's a distraction, to know where we're headed, but giving us the advantage regardless.'

The other alternative was, of course, for Cullen to do it.

But that would mean _him_ sitting out the confrontation. Leaving his friends to go and face their past alone. He could never, ever do that.

Dorian was clever enough to know _not_ to try and reassure him that he would be safer in England, safer in a police station. Every step forward they took contained hidden dangers. But this way, they had a chance to get to Alistair. To end it all.

'I know you hate this,' he said to Cullen, when the others gave them a moment alone, tactfully loading up the van with what was useful from the cabin, Lee calling in all manner of favours from people in all manner of languages. 'Darling, look at me.' Cullen did, anguish overwhelming. 'I _know_ how hard this is.'

'I can't—' he said, the words becoming stuck. 'I can't bear it. I want you to stay _here_ , stay safe instead.' Dorian waited. 'I _want_ that but I…' Cullen shook his head, exhaling roughly. 'I know this is the right thing to do. I know I should…'

'Trust me to be strong?'

Cullen touched his forehead to Dorian's, intimately painful proximity because they were _parting_ again soon and the uncertainty was like a hand gripping Dorian's heart.

'I do,' Cullen said, but it wasn't concrete, wasn't what Dorian needed, what they both needed.

And really, what they both needed was to collapse into bed, together, with food, with family, behind a locked door, with no expectation to rise for at least three days, but…

For now, a kiss would have to do.

Dorian's lips moved over Cullen's with restrained insistence to begin with, but the first instance of that touch in such fresh, delicate turmoil sent a _rush_ of something electrical through them both. Stress turned to _urgency_ in the immediate, hearts pounding under the distant threat of death and all Dorian wanted then was to feel alive, to make Cullen feel alive.

What began as comfort turned feverish, turned almost feral. Cullen's hands moving to that familiar position behind Dorian's thighs, like he was _itching_ to lift him, to crush him into a wall and bury himself inside, lock them together. It was a familiar feeling, similar to when they'd been in a cold, dark cell, awaiting death. Now they were in the bright light of that late December day, only three days until Christmas, and Dorian had never wanted to be fucked so badly in his whole life.

'Oh God,' he panted, flinging his arms around Cullen's neck and resuming the kiss with a shuddering, shaking need that rocked him to his core because it felt… fuck, it felt like he would _die_ without him. Like they were at the very height of the world, looking down at the universe and holding their own mortality in hand. 'Cullen, this is—we should—oh, _fuck_.'

'I can't let you go,' Cullen was softly gasping into his mouth, voice cracking apart beneath the weight of desire and danger, glass fracturing beneath a love that had always been on the right side of _too much_. 'I can't, don't make me.'

His tongue was deep in Dorian's mouth, hands clumsily pulling material up, seeking warm, solid planes of familiar skin. Cullen didn't have his nipple stud in because he'd been going to a meeting the day Danarius had sent men to crash their car, mostly because the nipple stud showed through his shirt sometimes. Dorian felt the urge to laugh but knew it would only manifest in tears, in sobbing his heart out because it felt like _years_ ago but it _still_ had not been twenty four hours yet.

'You can,' he promised instead. 'You _will_.'

Cullen's palms took hold of Dorian's wrists and when his back hit the wall, it didn't leave him breathless from impact. 'No,' Cullen denied, mired in the bittersweet desperation of it all. 'We can do something—else, I'll—' He had Dorian's hands on either side of his head and this marked the most he had ever taken control in such a way, had ever exerted force, especially when under stress. 'I'll think of—'

'You'll come back,' Dorian said, so proud that his own voice could remain steady for once. 'And I'll be waiting for you, with everyone else.'

Cullen dropped his head, taking a single step back, but his grip on Dorian's wrists never faltered, kept him pinned to the wall as if he could _make_ Dorian stay there, in that safely hidden place under shadows cast by trees. Their bodies no longer touching, he tried to catch his breath, but it was wracked by instability, by the paroxysms of _too much_ love.

'I couldn't live without you,' Cullen said, so quietly Dorian barely heard it, but of course he heard it, the words went right to his chest, embedded like an arrow.

And Dorian wanted to be stern, like Leliana. He wanted to be quietly angry, the way Fenris might have, that Cullen could ever say such a thing.

'You won't have to,' he promised instead. 'I can be strong, I just need you to trust me. I _want_ you to trust me.'

In one swift movement, Cullen released his wrists, walked into him and took Dorian's face in his hands, kissing him; gentle violence and appreciable madness fading and ebbing, cooling because Dorian had asked for something, had said the word _want_ and Cullen had never been very good at refusing Dorian anything.

'I-I trust you,' he told Dorian, without ever parting their lips. Breaths shared back and forth and Dorian knew now, he _knew_ that breaths could be finite. Could be numbered and numbered _low_. 'I trust you to be strong, Dorian.'

'And I trust you to come back to me,' Dorian said, fingers pushing up into Cullen's sweat damp curls, into his hair that once, Dorian had wiped glitter all through. Stolen afternoon of madness and wine, of realising he was painfully attracted to his then-roommate, that had been the first time he'd touched Cullen's hair. The nostalgia hit different, hit _deep_ when they both knew this might be the _last_ time.

Cullen made himself move away, Dorian could feel the force it required, left him shaking. 'I'm sorry if I hurt you,' was what he said when enough distance between them provided minimal reassurances they wouldn't clash again, would not _melt_ together.

'You didn't,' Dorian assured him and then he said, 'I have never loved anything in this world like I love you.'

Dorian watched as Cullen looked away, jaw working. He watched as tears fell, as Cullen's resolve set and he regained control over himself.

And then Cullen said, smiling in a way that broke Dorian's heart to _pieces,_ it was so sad, 'I love you more.'

*

'It's a rather short statement,' Keran commented, reading it back.

Dorian sighed. 'Everyone's a critic. I told you, there's whole chunks I don't remember.'

'So, what you're telling me is, you went to the warehouse, it blew up, you lost Cullen and Fenris, wandered around, passed out, woke up, came here—'

'Ah,' Morrigan interrupted. 'First, he called his people, but they were and still _are_ protected from any further abduction attempts in a very spacious, well-outfitted panic room. Don't leave parts out in your attempt to _summarise_.'

'Yes, you attempted to contact your people, my apologies. _Then,_ after that, you made your way to us. Why didn't you call us, have us collect you?'

_Because I would have been shot and left in a ditch,_ Dorian did not say.

'My phone died and then I lost it. I hitched a ride with someone into the city from Kent.'

'And here you are.'

Dorian spread his hands. 'Here I am.'

Keran crossed his arms, sat back. 'What do you think Clarel told us?'

'No idea.'

'OK, well, how do you think your statement sounds to us?'

'Like someone who got hit in the head?'

Keran smiled, but it was dry. 'Dorian,' he said, lifting his gaze. 'Do you know what the most unsettling part of all this is, for me?' Dorian waited. 'It's the fact that you haven't once asked if we know where Cullen is.' Keran set the file aside, surveying Dorian evenly. 'It's how _calm_ you are.'

It was hard work to prevent a slip in his facade.

'Perhaps my _faith_ in your department's ability to do more than I could is lacking.'

Morrigan pointedly cleared her throat, but Dorian ignored her. He could walk this line, he just had to be very careful.

'I can see that,' Keran said. 'But I need you to be aware that coming in here as you did, making a statement like this, it's suspicious. Your siblings are being investigated over ties to the kidnapping. Your family had ties to organised crime. I personally investigated Cullen's background,' Keran went on. 'Notes at the time are sketchy to say the least and a great deal of concrete information has been lost, but Cullen Rutherford was the beginning of the end for Rebstein Danarius. He drew attention to things that were, from my humble interpretation, best left alone. Your Father, Halward Pavus, was known to deal with Danarius on occasion, before his downfall. This whole thing,' the young Detective shook his head. 'It's tangled and messy. Tangled means sometimes, the wrong person gets caught up in the snare.'

'Are you implying my client is under suspicion?'

'I'm making it clear that the breadth of this investigation means we can discount _no one_ ,' Keran said emphatically. 'External _or_ internal. Now, I have nothing to hold you on. You came to us and I have your statement, which can be adjusted if need be. But Dorian, I'm asking you if there is _anything_ else, anything at all, you can tell me that will help us get to the bottom of this?'

Dorian crammed down how much he _wanted_ to blurt out the truth, the whole ugly, awful thing, just spill it and be honest because if nothing else, Keran really did seem decent.

But instead, he shook his head. Keran sighed.

'Fair enough.'

Thrask walked in and sat down in the same manner as before; heavy and irritable.

'Clarel has verified your story, what little of it there is,' he said without preamble. 'While she's been guarding Rutherford's friends and family, she says you contacted them at the time you claimed, that she gave you intelligence about the warehouse, not knowing you would head there alone. She's corroborated what little you've given us.'

'I… see,' Dorian said.

'She's not our department, works with Samson,' the older man said, his eyes bright and glaring, watching Dorian avidly. 'It's funny, she's been unreachable for hours, but Samson assures us he's been in constant contact with her, that he wanted to ensure her position _protecting_ those in the Kensington suite was free from any potential,' Thrask barked a sharp, bitter sneer of laughter. _'Corruption_ within the ranks.'

'Right,' Dorian said, battling down relief because Clarel had been a gamble, no matter how faithfully she'd assured them that she would play along. Jassen made for excellent incentive and of course, anything beyond Dorian's narrative of simplicity and focus on Jassen would lead to scrutiny upon her and her entire department, namely Samson. 'Well, good. Am I… free to leave?'

Thrask seemed quietly furious, but not at Dorian.

'You are,' he said, speaking purposefully slow, as if it could cool his ire. 'Sorry we can't do more to help you.'

He knew, Dorian realised. He knew about Samson, maybe Keran knew too. But they couldn't do anything without Dorian. Because then Dorian would be well and truly fucked. Bullet through that two way glass, no doubt. People he loved, hunted and hurt. Samson could manufacture evidence about his connection to the twins, he might be _arrested_ for being involved in Cullen's kidnapping, for God's sake.

'I'm sorry too,' he offered awkwardly and meant it.

'All right,' Thrask said, looking away.

Dorian stood slowly, leg twinging after so many hours seated in a plastic chair. 'Please keep me updated.'

'Yes, of course,' Keran said, pulling something out of his wallet. A small card. His blue eyes gleamed, a promise beneath them. 'If you remember anything, anything at all, call me.'

*

Saying goodbye was too difficult, it was impossible. At the drop point in a country lane close to where Dorian could safely hitch into the city, he did everything he could _not_ to say goodbye to any of them.

'We'll message Morrigan as soon as we land,' Lee promised.

'Let us know when you're safe,' Fenris said. ‘Morrigan will give you the number.’

'Of course, don't worry.'

It went far beyond nerves; a horrible tingly feeling throughout his entire being.

'Right,' Cullen said abruptly. 'See you soon, then.'

Dorian toed the ground, gaze fixed down. 'Yeah, see you all soon.'

'Just think what a story this will be, come Christmas day, eh?' Anders said kindly.

'Between us or worldwide?'

'I imagine the two versions will vary,' Jassen muttered, hanging back once more.

Dorian wasn't letting Fenris or Leliana go without a hug, even though they both kept it brief. Stiff upper lip, that seemed the way to go, otherwise Dorian couldn't say with any degree of certainty that he was going to _let_ them go without him.

He and Anders went for the usual manly backslap, which was fairly bracing, reminding Dorian of a time _before_ he'd fallen headfirst into Cullen's family pool, all of whom were fond of squishy hugs, kisses and sombre declarations of love. 'Take care of yourself,' he told Dorian. 'And remember to get those bandages changed once you're out of there, yeah?'

'You know where the first aid kit is,' Lee said. 'Rosalie will help you.'

'I still don't see why I can't just go home. I hate the idea of them having to open the door for me, letting me inside when I'll probably be trailing half of London's most corrupt cops behind me.'

Jassen frowned slightly. 'It's safer there.'

'Dorian's loft _is_ secure,' Fenris pointed out, seemingly on the verge of agreeing.

'It's _not._ I got inside several times, even after your additional security.'

That seemed to be news to Fenris. 'How?'

Dorian _badly_ wanted to say something then, about how Jassen had bypassed security by using Lana, about how he'd completely ruined her life in the process, but he bit down hard and contained it completely. Better to protect her, to hide the awful truth.

'I lifted fingerprints from Dorian's friend,' Jassen explained casually, no trace of shame, but equally no indication that he knew anything _more_. 'And the two second rule was invented by—'

'Yes, I know,' Fenris interrupted quickly, tone clipped. He'd paled a little. 'I know.'

Lee looked over. 'Wait, does that mean he has access to the villa? To my place?'

Jassen shook his head. 'The girl's thumb print was entirely unique to Dorian's loft.'

'Danarius won't even be in the country,' Dorian reasoned, seeking to move the conversation along before he _hit_ Jassen for referring to Lana in such a way.

'Just please go there with them?' Cullen asked quietly.

‘All right,' Dorian assured him. 'Don't worry about anything here. Just focus on coming back, like you promised.'

The moment had come, time to say goodbye without actually saying it, because Dorian was _not_ doing it, refused to part in any way that would let fate think they'd had their chance, their opportunity to make peace with that goodbye being permanent. He would not provide a full stop, only a comma.

Brown eyes lifted to grey. 'I will.'

'OK, well,' Dorian swung his arms, awkward agony of doing everything _but_ saying goodbye. 'Good… luck,' he went with, lamely.

'And to you.' Lee slid into the front of the van, Anders driving.

Jassen hung back a little, giving Dorian something that might have been a _respectful_ nod before saying, 'I'll keep him safe.' Dorian's anger about Lana, about _so much_ to do with that man was still raging within, but he nodded back.

'And yourself,' he generously managed.

Fenris grasped Dorian's shoulder, departing silently and that left Cullen, who still could not look at Dorian, who seemed torn between just _going_ without another word or tying Dorian to a nearby tree and risking fleeing the country with the eyes of the police on them.

Silently, Dorian approached him, palm raised. He placed it atop Cullen's chest, over the rough material of a warm winter coat and pressed it there. Beneath, he felt that familiar, _thud thump, thud thump_ , Cullen's rhythm in blood and fuel. Cullen mirrored the gesture, his own hands over Dorian's heart, neither looking at the other, but not able to look away, either. Staring at their hand on the other's heart. Promises made in touch, it was as close to a goodbye as Dorian could permit.

Cullen was half turning away when Dorian caught him by the hand and yanked him back, pulled the slightly taller man into him, brought them flush once more and kissed him. Closed lips and almost chaste, but beneath the seemingly still waters, a whirlpool was building and it sought to drag Dorian down, to drown him in safely and love and all the most base expressions of that love. A kiss in the final moments they had left.

_Not a goodbye, not a goodbye,_ Dorian tried to convince himself.

'All right,' Cullen said, wrenched himself away, hand briefly touching Dorian's face, trembling badly. 'S-see you soon.'

Dorian stood still as his boyfriend walked in the other direction.

'See you soon.'

*

Dorian left the station with a feeling of trepidation that best resembled walking slowly out of a wolf den. He sensed eyes on him, sensed that from some dark place, Samson was watching. He passed Clarel; she gave him a single nod before looking hurriedly away. Morrigan guided Dorian out, hovered almost protectively when he signed something at the front desk and then they were outside in the early darkness of a London evening.

Dorian breathed deep, hoped and prayed that Cullen and the others would make it safely there. That they would be safe _regardless_ of what they were about to attempt.

A Bentley pulled up right in front of the curb and Morrigan opened the door, waiting for Dorian to get inside, which he did.

'You did well,' Morrigan said once the car was moving, gliding across the roads with the low hum of an exquisite engine. Halward favoured Bentley's, Dorian recalled.

'I think maybe I should have kept quiet until you got there.'

'It would have seemed ridiculous, you voluntarily offering a statement and then saying nothing. Well,' she added, inclining her head. 'The whole thing was ridiculous, but that would have been a bridge too far. They landed safely, just now.'

He looked over so fast he almost cricked his neck. 'Show me.'

Morrigan's phone screen showed a message from an unknown number which read, **'Landed safely, make sure Dorian goes somewhere safe, no exceptions. Suggest you and Kieran do the same. Lee.'**

'They'll get him back,' Dorian said, his voice coming out strangely wobbly. 'Alistair, they'll… he'll be all right, I know he will. They'll save him.'

Morrigan's voice did not waver or wobble, but there was a thin line of tension running through it all the same. 'They had better.'

Dorian couldn't stand the thought of the alternative.

'We're headed for Kensington?' she asked him after the driver enquired.

'Uh, no. No, I'll stay in my loft.'

'It's safer at Lee's place with the others.'

'I'd rather be home,' Dorian said. He had a whole explanation ready in case she persisted. How he didn't want to risk exposing the others, how he didn't want to risk drawing anyone there, if indeed he was going to be targeted. He still held Keran's card in his hands, still couldn't _quite_ let go of the idea that he and Thrask could be trusted. That maybe he could render Samson powerless for when the others returned safely. Even if Danarius was dispatched of, Samson would remain.

'Suit yourself,' the lawyer said, rendering his arguments entirely unnecessary, but for convincing himself. 'Here, so you can keep in touch with them.' She handed him what seemed to be a burner phone; cheap, clunky thing that could call and text and not much else. 'I stored that number in there, the one Lee texted from.'

'Thank you.'

When they turned into Dorian's street, Morrigan said, 'This is all going to blow up, you know. The whole world is looking for Cullen, there are conspiracy theories flying around like I've never seen before. This will all come out, everything.'

'Yeah, I agree.'

'I hope you're ready for it,' was her advice, coolly given. 'I know you're used to being in the public eye, but this will be different. Every single person in the world will know who Cullen is, now. Music fans or not. This will make waves.' The car stopped outside his building. 'Just be ready to swim.'

Dorian thanked her again, refrained from pointing out that her metaphor was clunky (that made him smile to think of Fenris) and stepped out of the beautiful car, heavy phone in hand and nothing else. His building looked exactly the same, it _was_ the same. It was home in every way, except that Cullen would not be there.

Cullen was thousands of miles away, he was _in danger_ with the others and Dorian hadn't quite realised it would be this fucking _awful_ until he was stepping out of the elevator, headed for the door.

Because his part was done now. His big, risky thing was _over_ and Cullen's was just starting. Now Dorian had to sit and wait, had to rock back and forth, clinging to the phone. He had to resist the temptation to book a flight and go there. He could clean frantically, he could shower and make cookies, call the others, check and double check. He was safe where the others were not.

When he reached the heavy, impenetrable door, he paused and fired off a quick text to the unfamiliar number and then he placed his thumb on the scanner for the customary two beats. It unlocked obediently. Heavy clunk of cogs and tumblers falling into place, permitting him entry.

He pushed it open, headed inside and his heart seized _._

Hardiss Lilbourn was in his kitchen, eating a croissant with one hand, pointing a gun at him with the other and on his sofa, were Evelyn and Maxwell Trevelyan, twin stares unflinching and cold.

'Welcome home, kid,' Harry greeted.

*

_**It's a long way down to the bottom of a bad idea,** _

_**It's a long way to sink without your love.** _

_**And I know there's always a reason to stay right here,** _

_**But I find that I'm daydreaming of light from above.'** _

_**Where you go I will follow,** _

_**And if it's dark then I won't hide.** _

_**Where you go, I will venture too,** _

_**For you I'd swim into the tide.** _

*

_Cullen was stupidly, impossibly_ happy _with his new life in Dorian Pavus's loft._

_Dorian was quiet and he was warm, genuine and accidentally hilarious, even though Cullen never felt the need to laugh, simply internalised all Dorian's sheer fucking beauty and did everything he could to make his life better._

_Mostly, that meant cooking. After the first night when Cullen rubbed his back while his new roommate emptied his stomach to rid his body of all the roiling alcohol, they established a little routine of sorts. Wherein Cullen would make dinner and Dorian would enjoy that dinner._

_Cullen wanted to be around him all the time, but he worked hard, needed to prove to Lee and Fenris that this wouldn't affect his work life in the slightest, even though he_ longed _to take a holiday, take a break and just spend it with Dorian, make him happy._

_He loved making him happy._

_Small things made Dorian happy. Tea, food, interest, care._

_Cullen knew he was falling for him, recognised the feeling as it took root and began to grow, blossoming through him each time he made Dorian laugh, each time he made those stunning silver eyes widen with the surprise of an unexpected kindness. Cullen was falling hard for him and it hadn't even been a week._

_When Dorian fractured his thumb, Cullen felt a sick swoop of concern that solidified what he was feeling in a way that seemed irreversible. He was angry at himself but at the same time, he couldn't fight it. Every new thing he learnt about Dorian made him love him more, made him care more, just made him_ more _interested._

_The day Dorian came home from work, despondent and sad, the way Cullen was used to seeing him in those earlier years, he felt that he would do anything to make him happy again, though he was getting used to exerting restraint._

_There were issues between them, one of the biggest was that Dorian, quite understandably, hated music. Cullen didn't blame him, even if he did somewhat regret the loss of being able to play for Dorian. Their first night together, Cullen had promised never to write a song about Dorian and the guilt he felt was potent, because he kind of already_ had _, but he just resolved never to do it again, even if all manner of inspiration was coming to him thick and fast._

_He was honest with Dorian but he also_ _… wasn't._

_When Dorian asked about his lip, he told the truth but he also glitzed that truth up a bit. Didn't want to burden Dorian with the grim nuances of his awful sexual experiences, of what had been some of the darkest years of his life, riddled with pain and unbearable, unacceptable loss. He made things seem better than they had been, but when it came to Sophia, there was no way to control that pain and Dorian_ _… hugged him. It was the first time they'd hugged and Cullen fell harder._

_He had a performance that night, which was why he'd been home practising and chilling out that morning, but Dorian didn't want to be alone, Cullen could tell. So, they drank wine - Dorian drank three times more than Cullen, who still didn't quite trust mind altering substances - and they relaxed around one another properly for the first time._

_Cullen felt like a kid who wanted a day off school, the whole thing was so intimate and just making Dorian smile had his heart pounding like crazy._

_Not as crazy as when they started rifling through all Dorian's old things, when Dorian tried on a pair of leather trousers that fit him perfectly._

_When Cullen lost a bet (quite on purpose) and ended up with Dorian's clever fingers painting him with body glitter._

_He knew he had it_ bad _after that._

_He knew, when his friends came calling the next day, furious with him for ignoring their calls and for (again) removing the tracker while he slept, that he wasn't acting like himself because he never missed performances, never ignored them like this, but he couldn't help it._

_'Are you in love with him?' Fenris asked quietly, while Dorian showered. Cullen sighed but otherwise didn't answer, focused on making breakfast for Dorian. Lee came over, ending a call and he hoped she hadn't heard that._

_'You cannot miss shows,' Lee warned him, her gaze entreating, pleading with him to understand. 'You promised this wouldn't affect work.'_

_'I was having fun,' he said, turning the sausages. 'I was having so much fun and I just_ _… I know I messed up. Tell me how to fix it.'_

_'Prague. Additional performances. What, may I ask, are these conditions? Because the tracker stays on and there is no way we're going around_ Prague _without security. Thom will come along, Josie too, that's not negotiable.'_

_'I want Dorian.'_

_Fenris sighed while Lee glowered._

_'_ _…what?'_

_'To come with us,' he clarified quickly, cracking eggs while the kettle reached boiling point. 'I want Dorian to come too.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Because,' Cullen said, focusing on the breakfast. 'He just got fired, he's a bit down and I_ _…' but his breath gave out on all his rational excuses, all his_ reasons _. 'I want him to come along.'_

_'And he wants that, does he?'_

_'He might not,' Cullen admitted, nerves prickling at the thought of losing the bubble of peace and contentment that had been growing around him the last few weeks. 'But if he_ does _want to, then he's coming.'_

_'We don't get a say?'_

_'How is this any different than you bringing someone to the villa?' he asked, hands shaking a little as he buttered the toast. 'You're both capable of making time for someone else and so am I. Once I get the hang of it. Yeah.' He brightened. 'I'll get the hang of it, balancing everything and you guys can get to know him. He's amazing, you'll_ love _him.'_

_*_

Cullen hated flying.

He'd _always_ hated flying, but it was that much worse without Dorian, especially being crammed into the fucking cargo hold of all places. It was a precaution Fenris had insisted upon and Cullen trusted him, of course he did, but he also felt it very keenly that they were in the bottom of the plane. He felt every vibration, every single part of their journey, couldn't help thinking if he poked a hole in the metal beneath his knees, he would see the earth speeding past.

They sat around mostly huddled together because it was _freezing_ cold in the small, metal space. The only good thing about stowing away in such a place was that they could talk as loud as they liked.

While Fenris and Anders went over (and _over_ ) various strategies, approaches, plans and so on, Leliana sat beside Cullen, their arms around one another. She felt terrible that she hadn't noticed the nuance in the message, felt that she should have protected Alistair more than she had. Every now and then, Fenris would glance over from his intense discussion with Anders and sort of _snap_ at her that it wasn't her fault. Fenris's worry for Alistair was making him irritable and edgy. Cullen could say nothing especially reassuring. Yesterday, it had been _him_ , waiting to be rescued like a lump of dead wood, terrified and uncertain, made to kneel and _collared_ like a dog for the amusement of the man who'd marked Fenris a decade ago.

Cullen offered Lee his body heat and his presence, holding her tightly, trying to ignore his own fears every time the plane lurched _down,_ the engines creating an endless stream of terrifying sounds.

Jassen was not part of the huddle. He sat closest to the small door, didn't participate much except to answer any questions posed by Fenris now and then.

Part of Cullen wanted to demand that he just _get over_ there with them and huddle for warmth because it was painfully cold in the bottom of that plane, hurtling through the stratosphere.

Part of him preferred the distance. Things with Jassen were… muddled, at best. The assassin was very firmly lodged in his _You Hurt Dorian_ category which offered simplicity by way of protective hostility, solid way forward except that in the quiet moments, lulls in loudly spoken conversation, Cullen couldn't help but begin to reconcile Jassen's intentions.

It was a strange thing that he didn't want to examine too closely. Every time he talked with Jassen, sought to clarify, the man just ended up confusing him anew.

In the end, it began to irritate Cullen, Jassen's distance. Respectful though his intentions may be, he was shivering all over, his breath coming out in uneven, juddering whorls before him and he wasn't even wearing a coat, for God's sake.

'Jassen,' he called out, ignoring the way his friends and Anders looked at him. 'Come here.'

For his part, Jassen simply looked over as if he wasn't freezing to death. 'What's up?'

'No, come here,' Cullen said, back teeth seeking to grind, because it was almost humiliating, _caring_ about the man who had done so much to hurt them, who'd _glassed_ him in the face when he was a teenager, but like fuck was he letting someone suffer needlessly. That wasn't who he was. He extended his arm, making clear his intentions.

Anders, who was on the end of the huddle beside Fenris, scoffed loudly. 'Let him catch a cold,' he said.

Jassen looked away. ‘I’m fine, I don't feel the cold.'

‘It’s sub-zero. Stop being stupid, come on.'

For some reason, Jassen seemed almost angry. 'I'm _fine_.'

'Leave him, then' Anders muttered, but Fenris had noticed Jassen's shivering now.

'How useful will you be when you plunge into hypothermia?' he suggested dryly. 'Get over here, no one's proposing marriage.'

Movements jerky and visibly aggravated, he crawled over, unable to stand due to the low ceiling, and sat beside Cullen. It felt ridiculous, bordering on comically stupid, when Cullen placed his arm around Jassen's shoulders, pulling him close. The other was _rigid_ , carved from stone and just as warm.

'You're freezing,' Cullen said disapprovingly. He felt the severity of Jassen's shivering.

'Yeah, well, I don't feel it.'

Cullen didn't believe him, but permitted him whatever illusion was required to save face, even if Anders did look over with a somewhat teasing brow slanted. Jassen stared ahead, arms around his knees as if suffering something unbearable in stoic silence. The position was all too familiar.

Cullen hated that he knew _why_ they did that, Fenris and Jassen. Remembered reading about the cages they were made to sleep in. _Kennels_ , they were described as. Wall to wall metal boxes, barely big enough to fit a man inside, let alone to stretch out.

After a while, Jassen's shivering lessened and his breathing evened out. Cullen kept his arm around him, the other around Lee, backs against some boxes strapped to the base of the plane.

Jassen didn't thank him, it would have been too awkward, Cullen suspected. They sat like that the rest of the way. Cullen half expected him to relax at some point, for his posture to ease, but it never did.

Oh well, at least he was warmer.

Cullen could tell when they started to descend, gut clenching in warning that they were _lowering_ , dropping. He hadn't stopped missing Dorian, couldn't force himself to let go of the gnawing terror and uncertainty about his beautiful boyfriend, but how he wanted him then, because Dorian was so _good_ at making him feel safe, feel better.

Lee talked him through it, telling him loudly of all the things they would do once this was over, of how much shopping they were doing together and how many new shoes she would buy. Cullen laughed through the worst of his nerves, telling her she already had too many shoes.

He felt the impact of landing as if he'd dropped onto the concrete himself, fear exaggerating every part of it, but then their trajectory was _solid_ , suddenly. Slowing more and more, no longer airborne and at last, the worst of that primal fear released him.

Cullen didn't realise he'd been holding Jassen's hand until the other man untangled their fingers and moved away quickly, like he couldn't wait to put space between them.

'Won't be long,' Anders said, voice low now that the small, private plane was being towed into its overnight home. The pilot would remain on the island on standby, ready to fly it whenever they needed.

They kept quiet, Jassen scooting back to his position by the door, guarding.

The plane had been stationary for five minutes when Fenris deemed it safe to leave.

They stole through the shadows, the familiar smell of the island causing Cullen's heart to swell. Cold pine and bracing sea salt all wrapped up in the muted chill of a Mediterranean winter.

Anders hot-wired a car from the parking lot and Lee drove them into the night, Cullen's mind rooted still with one man, so many miles away.

*

_In the Mandarin hotel, Fenris took him aside._

_'Cullen,' he said with a small frown. 'He knows who you are, right?'_

_Baffled and distracted, Cullen squinted. 'Eh?'_

_'Dorian. He_ _… knows who you are, doesn't he?'_

_'I mean, he doesn't remember me, or more likely didn't notice me, which is honestly a relief, but of course he knows who I am.'_

_'He knows you're a singer?'_

_'Fen, of_ course _he does. It's why it's so difficult for him, why I told you not to talk about music.'_

_'Even though you brought him on tour.'_

_Cullen frowned, pang of guilt plucking hard. 'I'm trying to make it as nice for him as I can.'_

_'I know you are,' his friend said. 'Just_ _… I don't know, there's something he doesn't_ get _.'_

_'Yeah,' Cullen said, that guilt turning solid and heavy. 'That I was the fucking reason his ex wrote that album in the first place.'_

_'Absolute bullshit and no, that's not it. Just be careful with him, all right?'_

_'You like him,' Cullen realised, instantly feeling better because approval from his best friends meant everything._

_Fenris inclined his head, tiny smile in place. 'Hard not to.'_

_It was like stepping out of a black and white film into glorious Technicolour. It was food tasting good again, it was music coming to him in solid structures, complete with ideas and lyrics. It was feeling_ hopeful _again. Excitement and anticipation and he knew, he_ knew _he was totally gone for Dorian when they went walking along the river at night after dinner. He knew it when Dorian joked that they should get a padlock and write their initials on it, wanted to fall to his fucking knees and propose marriage there and then._

_He was used to reigning himself in by that point, he had learned to control the majority of what made him too much, but he_ ached _when he was with Dorian. He bought a padlock and Dorian wrote their initials, wobbly and slightly wonky where he was drunk. Cullen clicked it into place on the fence and he felt the same kind of click in his heart, threw the key into the river, irreversibly locked now unless broken._

_'I'm in love with him,' he told Fenris, while they sat in his cramped bathroom of the O2 arena in Prague, and Fenris absolutely already knew. They stood against opposing walls in the small space provided, voices low. In the changing room just beyond that door, Lee spoke fluently with the people Cullen was hiding from. 'I'm_ _… completely in love with him. Fuck.'_

_'Like, more than a friend?'_

_Cullen nodded, sensed the true question beneath the seemingly odd phrasing. 'I want him so much. He_ _… he put body glitter all over me in London. He took pictures of me and told me I was good and it was all I could do not to come in my fucking jeans.'_

_Fenris snort-laughed, brow lifting in surprise. 'That whole sentence is gold, sorry.'_

_Cullen grinned, half rolling his eyes. 'It's OK. I don't feel uncomfortable about it, for once. I just_ _… Christ, I'm_ pining _for him, I think. I love him, I'm absolutely in love with him. Oh, it feels good to say it aloud. Scary, but good.'_

_'I'm glad. But Cullen,' Fenris said slowly. 'This is complicated. You know that.'_

_'I know.'_

_'He's been through so much.'_

_'I just want to make his life wonderful.'_

_'Even if that means being his friend?'_

_'Of course,' he answered easily, truthfully. 'His happiness is more important than what I_ want _.'_

_'God, you really are in love with him,' Fenris sighed, but he was happy for Cullen, even if it was tentative. 'Just be careful, then.'_

_Someone knocked at the door. 'I will.'_

_*_

'Let's go over it again,' Fenris said, shooting Anders a quelling glare while his friend sat on a sandy bank, their beach approach exposing them to the elements, but it was _stealthy_ , apparently.

'We understand,' Leliana said, the cold making her impatient, despite her warm outfit.

Fenris shook his head. 'Let's—'

'We don't have _time!'_

'Better to be clear than make a mistake.'

'Do you truly think so little of Cullen and I?' she demanded fiercely, shooting a barely there glance at Anders and away again. 'Just because we're not _professionals_ , doesn't mean we—'

The sound of vibrating filled the air. Lee quieted abruptly, pulling a phone from her jeans pocket.

'It's Dorian,' she said and Cullen quite literally felt the world _tilt_.

'Is he OK?'

' _"Everything went well on this end, letting you know I'm safe. Anything I can do? Xxx"'_ she read out, handing the phone to Cullen afterwards so he could see it himself. Unfamiliar number, not Dorian's number of course, because his phone had been shattered and destroyed, pieces from his shoe traded to a now dead medic.

Something that had been coiled very tightly, loosened just a notch after Cullen had read the message six or seven times, over and over, imagining Dorian with the others, behind a heavy door, totally safe and unharmed where no evil could reach him.

It gave Cullen strength then, made his focus turn clear.

'You're right, let's go over it again,' he said.

So they did. They talked it through, what could happen, what was unlikely to happen, but what they needed to be ready for regardless. Endless scenarios, but the main backbone of the plan was what Fenris explained the most.

It was not a simple thing. Cullen worked hard to suppress his internal wish that Lee had stayed home with Dorian, that she too was safe now. She would find that highly insulting and likely nudge him hard in the ribs. But then, if he was being honest, he wished _everyone_ had stayed home and it was only him there, only him about to take this risk.

_Trust me to be strong,_ Dorian had said. Cullen could do that for his friends too, knew how amazing they were, knew that inside and out. It was a hard thing to do, but they were standing on the very edge of their world, carving the path as they went and in such extremes, he knew he had to trust them.

'That's a mistake,' Jassen said again, he said it every time they came to the part about the _exchange_. It was also the part that Cullen despised most, the part he felt was the most risky. Jassen sounded weary, resigned to the fact he would be ignored.

'There's no alternative,' Fenris said, _again._ 'It has to seem desperate.'

'You're mistaking desire for weakness. Just because he wants you back does not mean he would risk himself in such a way.'

'Which is why we need to—'

'I _understand_ ,' Jassen said, eyes flashing. 'But it's still a mistake.'

'Your suggestion is a far greater risk,' Anders said, looking up from the dim glow of his computer, the kind that was built into the carry case.

'Not for Cullen.'

Anders, Lee and Fenris made almost identical sounds of exasperated disgust, shaking their heads, rolling their eyes but Jassen was not abashed.

'My God, we _get it,'_ Anders muttered.

Cullen, still buoyed by the knowledge that Dorian was _safe_ , moved closer to Jassen, took him aside. A dark and moonless ocean stretched before them, the sounds soothing, the winds bitterly cold when freshened by salt water. Cullen couldn't wait to return in the summer, to swim with Dorian.

'Look,' he said and Jassen, very pointedly, did _not_ look. He avoided his gaze almost entirely and Cullen couldn't help but wonder what he'd done _wrong_ which… yes, he knew that old, rotting habit very well, a vestige of his tenure with Madeline. Misplaced guilt and an ache at the base of his spine from shouldering worries he had no part in. 'We can't do this without you.'

'Do you realise how far I've drifted from myself?'

Cullen blinked, reeling slightly. ‘Sorry?'

Jassen's dark gaze lifted to Cullen's, something detached there, but also angry. 'Do you realise,' he repeated. 'How far I have drifted from _myself_? A self I fought hard to preserve.'

'Um,' Cullen said, looking out at the water to buy himself a moment. 'I'm—I really appreciate that you're—'

'I'm a killer,' Jassen said, looking at Cullen fully then, letting him see so much of what had indeed been suppressed for a while now. Glittering darkness on a still, flat surface. A body of water that the moon held no sway over. 'I kill people. I _enjoy_ killing people. I— _you_ are the only reason I am here. That reason is a real thing, but you're…'

Cullen stared. 'I'm what?'

'You're twisting me into something else. Into—' Jassen ground his jaw hard, nose furling. 'Into _yours_. How I would be if we were _friends_.'

'That's not what I'm doing. I'm grateful for everything you've done to help. I don't mean to put expectations on you, if that's how it feels.'

Jassen seemed abruptly tired of the conversation, as if Cullen simply would never understand. 'OK, great. Thanks.'

He pushed past Cullen, but Cullen didn't let him. He took hold of his wrist, stopped him. 'No, wait. Look, if there's something you want to say, now's the time.'

'Now is really _not_ the time, actually,' Anders called out from a dozen feet away, but Cullen ignored him. Jassen turned back, rigid once more with something like anger, yet Cullen couldn't help but think it was _fear_.

'What?' he asked, lowering his voice. ' _What_?'

Jassen didn't pull free, he didn't look at Cullen either. He kept his focus on the ocean when he said, 'What am I supposed to do after this, if I survive?'

'You _will_ survive,' Cullen said sternly, but it tripped right off his tongue, automatic assurance because he couldn't stomach the idea of anyone dying except Danarius. 'And I… I suppose you can do whatever you want.'

'Things were clear before.'

Cullen began to understand. 'And now they're… less clear?'

He still held himself very tightly, the assassin. He looked out at the water with cold contempt playing all about him. It was strange to Cullen, seeing him in such a way. Jassen was a fluid person, whose energy was serpentine; playfully lethal and capable of twisting however necessary in the moment. It was weirdly not right to see him like this, so stiff he might _break_.

'I know to you I'm a…' he shook his head very slightly. every syllable clipped. 'A disposable person, someone you don't like but you have to rely on for now. I know that after this, I will not be going with you. So please,' he uttered, Adam's apple bobbing as his throat contracted. 'Please stop making me feel like this.'

Cullen looked down at the point of contact. 'Like what?'

'Like I have a place in your life.'

'How am I—?'

'You're kind,' he whispered, expression grim. 'You're too _kind_. It's a contagion.'

Slowly, Cullen let go of Jassen's wrist. 'I haven't been kind to you.'

'Maybe not by your standards.'

A wrench of sadness twisted low in Cullen's abdomen then. Tangled, complicated feelings were nothing new to him, but this was different for too many reasons. Complicated in a way that he could not _un-_ complicate, even as he wished he could. Like he'd wished he could take Declan home with him, feed him up and keep him safe, so he wished he could humanise the rigid man before him.

Jassen inhaled briskly, trying to shutter the worst of whatever it was he'd let Cullen see behind a usually impenetrable mask of glassy, sarcastic humour. He thought of how Jassen had been cut all over, how much he'd _bled_ , how Danarius had hurt him in other ways that no one had brought themselves to ask about because no one _really_ wanted to know the answer.

And it was stupid, it was absolutely a mistake to say such a thing, but…

'You're my friend,' Cullen said anyway, even though he could practically _hear_ Dorian cursing him. 'You'll still be my friend after this, even if perhaps you don't come to dinner or whatever.'

Jassen darkened. 'Don't tease me.'

'I'm _not_ ,' Cullen said, daring to take a step closer, boots sinking into the wet sand, dampened by recent rains. 'I'm _not_. Look, like I said in the cell, you glassed me in the face and you did terrible things, but you've also _helped_ a lot. And I remember that you sat with me when I was alone.' Cullen lowered his voice, not wanting anyone else to hear what he was saying now because he was probably going to get _punched_ if they did. 'You stayed with me when things fell apart and you were… you could have hurt me but you didn't. I offered to,' he cleared his throat awkwardly. ' _Let_ you hurt me when I pushed the others away and you never did. I'm sorry that you're drifting from who you were before but maybe that's a good thing.'

'And what? After this, what? You'll meet me on the rooftop once a month and ask how my life is going?'

'I don't know,' Cullen answered honestly. 'But short of you killing anyone I love, you're my friend.'

Jassen blew air through his teeth. 'You're so fucking naive.'

'Yes, probably,' Cullen said, looking down, unexpectedly hurt. 'I've been told that more than once. But you helped me and you helped my friends by proxy.'

'I don't care about them.'

Cullen watched him closely. 'You care about Fenris a little. You care about Dorian, too.'

Oh, that glare struck like a knife. 'Because _you_ care! I don't want to care about them, about any of this! I should have locked you in a crate with food and water for a week and dealt with Danarius myself!'

'But you didn't,' Cullen countered, bracingly trying to ignore the muted horror of such a consideration. 'I'm sorry that I've made your life complicated. I do tend to do that.'

An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and Cullen wondered what fucking _universe_ they were in that he was trying to make this man _laugh_.

'Yes, you do,' he sighed, the tiny smile puncturing the worst of his anger. 'Well, I doubt I'll live to see the sunrise, but… hmm.' He didn't expand, didn't elaborate, yet Cullen hoped the _hmm_ meant he was at least somewhat reassured. They did need him, that was true, but Cullen also wasn't exactly _lying_ when he said he was his friend. Lower tier friendship, perhaps, but real nonetheless.

And Cullen knew he was naive about people, he always had been but it didn't seem like that was ever really going to change. He'd never felt threatened by Jassen, could never bring himself to truly _fear_ the man, even when he knew what he was, _who_ he was.

'Are you guys done, by any chance?' Anders called out. 'Because maybe Fenris and I might like to stand twelve feet away and have our own awkward, emotionally stunted conversation about the subtleties of friendship amid bloodshed if you're able to wrap up?'

Jassen let out an exaggeratedly pained sigh and Cullen saw how quickly all his shutters came back into place, how _completely_ he mastered himself when turning to glance over his shoulder and call back, 'How about _you_ be less desperate to bottom for me, post-violent altercation? Obvious blood kink aside, it's getting embarrassing.'

Fenris looked up, shaking his head. 'I never thought I'd have to say this, but can you two _stop_ bickering? At this point, I'd _rather_ you went off somewhere and hate-fucked it out of your system, Jesus.'

'Aww,' Jassen said, grinning widely as he climbed up the sandy bank to throw his arms around Anders who struggled and attempted to shove him away. 'He doesn't hate me enough for that!'

The red-head sneered, 'Ten more seconds might do the trick.'

'Enough,' Fenris warned as Anders pushed Jassen off and into the sand where the assassin rolled, cat-like, back onto his feet. 'Alistair needs us.'

' _Exactly_ ,' Lee agreed, impatiently glaring at them both. 'Let's focus.'

Jassen sobered. 'Then _listen_ to me when I tell you that Danarius is too smart to fall for the idea of a trade in this manner. He's going to want _proof_ that you're able to be controlled by him and that proof will be you killing everyone you care about, starting with Cullen.'

'We only need to delay for ten seconds, just enough to get Alistair free and clear.'

'He _knows_ this. He knows what you're going to do,' Jassen said. 'He's still in your head so much and you don't even know it. Look at the bracelets you make, the design of the doors. You guard Cullen the way Danarius was training you to guard him!'

A dangerous silence descended very quickly. 'Watch yourself,' Fenris warned, brow raised, expression flat.

'And anyway,' Anders said, typing without looking up. 'You were there too, you could be just as influenced as Fenris.'

'I wasn't given the level of _attention_ he was and Danarius wasn't my pit master.'

Cullen suppressed a shudder at the vile term.

'That's not—'

'Maybe he has a point,' Lee said. 'We have to take a step back here and look at the breadth of this thing.'

'What are you saying?'

'I'm saying maybe you're too deep in your memories,' she said gently. 'To realise that you might be walking a path he's familiar with.'

Cullen stepped forward. 'I might have an idea, actually.'

*

_Cullen wondered sometimes if Dorian was magic. If he had actual magical powers because he had this way of looking at Cullen, of saying things and making Cullen feel like he'd left his body. With anyone else, it might have been embarrassing, mortifying even, but he trusted Dorian and it felt right, it all felt so right._

_Songs kept coming to him, they came almost fully formed and they poured in endlessly. Dorian was his muse and the harder he tried to ignore it, the more they came, louder and insistent. He never wrote a single one down, as if that made it any better, but in his mind, he had an entire album._

_And atop the love songs, the secrets were stacking up._

_Their last night in Prague, Cullen watched Dorian sleep. He guarded him in his rest, making sure he was safe but also just_ watching _him. It was definitely not the kind of thing that was considered healthy or normal, but Cullen kept his distance, didn't touch him once, not even to stroke his face or brush his hair back. Dorian snored loudly, even more so when he'd had too much wine but Cullen didn't mind._

_And in the morning, when Dorian asked, Cullen felt like the words were pulled out of his chest. Honesty came tumbling forth because he_ wanted _to be honest with Dorian, he wanted to spill himself and show the other man everything,_ everything. _He told him he was in love with him and Cullen felt_ peace _then, not having to pretend anymore._

_Dorian wanted time and Cullen wanted what Dorian wanted, so he continued to restrain himself. They left Prague behind, went shopping in Sardinia and back to the hotel where they fell asleep on the sofa, all tangled up._

_'You've fallen in love with him,' Lee said when Dorian was packing his stuff, preparing to head off to the villa._

_'Yeah,' he said, looking up from his tea. 'Sorry I didn't tell you.'_

_She watched him measuredly. 'You think I disapprove.'_

_'I know that's not it. You like Dorian.'_

_'I do. But—'_

_'I know,' he said quickly, cheeks heating a little. 'I know I make bad decisions about stuff like this, but this is different.'_

_'He is different, you're right. You're different too. You're happier than I've ever seen you.'_

_He sighed. 'But?'_

_'No,' she said after a moment of consideration. 'No buts. If you're happy, be happy. Despite everything, he's perfect for you, Cullen. He actually is.'_

_'I know you don't want to see me hurt.'_

_Leliana looked away. 'I couldn't bear it, not again.'_

_'I promise to be careful.'_

_'Oh love,' she said, sad smile playing about her features. 'You're so careful with everyone but yourself. Don't work to assure me, I'm happy for you, I really am. I just wish the situation was less complicated.'_

_Cullen's fingers tapped on the side of his mug. 'I wish that for you too.'_

_It brought Lee back to the present moment with a snap. 'Well, time in the villa is what we all need, I think.'_

_He smirked playfully, kicking her under the table like they were kids. 'Time with Alistair?'_

_'Too fucking right. How I've missed that boy.'_

_*_

Everyone groaned, even Jassen.

'No, Cullen,' Lee said, pinching the bridge of her nose. 'That's… not a good idea.'

'Why not?'

'It's just not,' Fenris agreed. 'It's far too obvious and, no offence, but it's dumb.'

'Ah,' Cullen reasoned sagely. 'But he won't see it coming.'

'Yeah,' Anders agreed with a friendly wince. 'He also wouldn't see it coming if we burst inside wearing clown costumes while throwing cheese wheels at him, but that's not a good plan either.'

'That's actually a slightly _better_ plan,' Leliana muttered. 'Cheese wheels are large, they could knock him out.'

'What is the absolute last thing he would expect?'

'Probably the cheese wheels,' Anders chuckled before sobering. 'But look, I respect what you're saying. You're aiming for the effective cut off, like Indiana Jones when he shoots the crazy sword guy.'

'The problem is,' Jassen said. 'That Danarius isn't the crazy sword guy. He's clever and he's patient.'

'But what I'm saying,' Cullen pressed. 'Is that he's going to be thinking like Fenris. You said that yourself. He'll be anticipating Fenris's instincts, so if we go against them—'

'Yes, but then what?' Fenris argued impatiently. 'Then we've let ourselves be caught and sure, he wasn't expecting it but then we're right back where we started.'

'Ah!' Cullen said triumphantly. 'But _not_ all of us. Not if Lee and I stay behind.'

'It's too risky.'

'He'd expect _you_ to be here, Cullen,' Jassen said slowly, looking at Leliana. 'But there is someone he wouldn't expect you to bring.'

Cullen reeled. 'Wait, what?'

'He knows you'll be here, even if he does consider you useless, but,' Jassen said, tone turning speculative. 'He'd think you'd both be too chivalrous to even bring her, let alone use her.'

'Oh, hang the fuck on,' Leliana said, getting to her feet. 'I thought we were all in agreement that this plan to _let yourselves_ be caught was an atrocious one?'

Anders considered. 'Not if we then also let him catch Cullen, let him think he's got the backup too.'

'Danarius likes to posture. He wouldn't kill us all outright.'

'Well, now _there's_ a reassurance to be trusted, coming from his little dragon.'

Jassen didn't rise to the bait. Cullen felt a tiny bit proud, even if his idea was blowing up in his face.

'OK, it was a terrible plan, I retract it fully. Let's go with an intelligent plan.'

'No, wait,' Lee said and now it was Cullen's turn to groan. 'Maybe you're right. I can get inside through the bubble. I can climb it, I know I can.'

'What could you do from inside?'

'Cut the power? I don't know, what would you need to flip the situation?'

'Exactly,' Fenris said quickly. 'So we let him capture us, tie us up and then… _what?_ Wait for Lee to rescue us? It's not a good plan.'

Jassen said, 'What about Anders' magic healing shit? Danarius would want that for his hand.'

'Does he know about the effect?'

'I don't think so.'

Cullen watched Fenris's mind race, considering all possible outcomes. 'We can do that without involving Lee.'

'When he uses it, he'll panic once he realises he's losing consciousness. That's the perfect time to knock out the power.'

Fenris was about to argue with Jassen when Anders cut in.

‘Guys, I'm in the security system of the villa,' he said, gesturing them over. 'Sorry, the signal here is atrocious. All the cameras have been shot out, all except for two. This one here from the outside, see, view of the pool and exterior and this one, in what I'm assuming, Lee, is your aforementioned bubble.'

'All the rest are out?'

'Yes.'

'Can you recover the footage before they were destroyed?'

'I'm doing that now. OK, here we go.'

They huddled around Anders, watching the screen.

'How long ago was this?' Fenris asked, watching as the six mini screens told a story in reverse of how Alistair had been in the villa, not knowing the villa was slowly being surrounded. A vaguely familiar blurry outline of a woman knocked on the door and Alistair, bless him, _opened_ it. From there, the men swarmed inside, restraining Alistair forcefully, binding him with cable ties.

A man walked inside; his black hair was twisted neatly atop his head in an actual man-bun. He wore jeans and a leather jacket and it was only when he lazily lifted a finger to the corners of the ceiling, no doubt instructing them to shoot the cameras because that's what they did next, that Cullen realised he seemed to be in charge. The last thing Cullen saw was Alistair on his knees.

'That's his brother,' Jassen said quietly. 'Danarius's brother, Erimond.'

'I remember seeing him a few times,' Fenris said, frowning intently. 'He came with you when you fought in my pit.'

'He was my _Danarius_. When the rings fell, Erimond sent people to collect me. He promoted me to what I am now, trained me a bit himself. He also ran what remained of the Syndicate in Danarius's absence. He's the middle brother.'

'I didn't even know there was a third.'

'The youngest has nothing to do with the Syndicate,' Jassen said, moving closer to the screen. 'Changed his name up and chose an embarrassingly rebellious career instead. They don't speak to him. Can you go back, about forty seconds? Yeah, the girl. That's Natalie, right?'

Lee gasped, grabbed the edges of the laptop to better see. She stared as if able to burn a hole through the screen. 'Oh my God, I'll _kill_ her, that bitch!'

'Alistair wouldn't know,' Fenris said, still frowning. 'He thinks we trusted her. We didn't warn him _not_ to, we didn't tell him anything specific. He should have been with us.'

'I mean, the good news,' Anders said, something forcibly casual about it. 'Is that for them to go to such lengths, they know he's someone you really care about.'

Lee and Fenris couldn't look away from the screen.

'Which means they wouldn't just kill him, right?' Lee uttered.

And Cullen knew his friends, he knew what had been slowly growing between them with Alistair firmly at the centre, but it had never been clearer than when Fenris, gaze riveted to the pause of Alistair kneeling and bound said, 'It _has_ to.'

'If we act like we're making a genuinely complicated attempt to sneak inside the bubble, we can actually do half the work for Leliana,' Jassen said. 'Just because they'll catch us, doesn't mean we can't wedge the door open a bit.'

'Plus if we position Cullen at the opposite end of where they catch us, they'll go towards him and away from where she could get inside.'

Lee stood up. 'And then what?'

'The healing compound is the best play. He'll be desperate for it by now. If we let him get it, think he extracted it from us—'

'That would be sufficient distraction, right? Time enough for Lee to plunge the lights off and give us a chance while he's out and can't give orders.'

'Erimond will still be able to.'

'Anders,' Cullen said, looking at the laptop. 'Can you see inside from the exterior camera?'

'It's tinted glass, so no. We'll need to do a proper recon run to ascertain whether or not Danarius is inside.'

'He will be,' Fenris said grimly. 'He knows we're coming here, we made it obvious with Dorian as the distraction.'

'We'll still need to find out how many there are, choke points and so on.'

'I can do it,' Jassen said. 'I'll see how close I can get and report back in five. That way,' he added, grabbing one of the walkie talkies from Anders' tech kit. 'You can all have a nice chat about me when I'm gone.'

*

_Cullen was losing his mind. He sat with his head in his hands, chaos of better people all around him and in his lap, his phone remained silent._

_He was losing his fucking_ mind _._

_And while all the people he loved did everything they could to stem the flow of the leak, of those_ pictures _that were everywhere, to stop the story from running, to take control of the narrative, Cullen just sat there, silently falling to pieces._

_He sent Dorian another message. And another. Then another. He'd already sent so many by that point, had ignored Fenris's quietly offered advice to_ stop _because he couldn't. He couldn't stop. He needed Dorian to look and see, to read his words, to acknowledge him._

_Fingers tightened around his hair, pain grounding him enough to breathe for a few seconds as he typed out another, the last one he was going to send, he promised himself, but it was a lie._

_Josie was talking about how to frame the break-up._

_The_ break-up. _Cullen stared at her for a long time, that girl he loved who worked her arse off for them, whose brilliance was a gleaming glittering thing, and he wanted to scream at her._

_'We're not broken up,' he said, each syllable low and purposeful._

_They all looked at him then. Morrigan fucking Korcari's eyes fluttering with an aborted roll, Lee pale and determined to get them through this, Josie's brief flash of sympathy and sorrow._

_Fenris was the only one he could stand to look at._

_Their silence was damning. He shoved away from the chair, headed outside to Lee's balcony, all of London set before him like an artful spill and somewhere, not_ too _far away, was Dorian._

_If everyone in the world was quiet, Cullen could probably shout to him, that was how it felt in those moments. Like the world just needed to_ go away _so Dorian could hear him._

_He leaned on the railing, knuckles white and fingers groaning. It felt like containing a demon, every single part of his body was_ straining _and struggling to control what was inside him. He was breaking apart, he was_ dying _._

_He was losing his mind._

_Fenris followed him outside. Fenris always followed him._

_'He needs time,' was what his friend said. 'You have to stop messaging him.'_

_'I can't.'_

_'You can and you_ need _to. Think how he feels, seeing all those messages.'_

_Cullen didn't look down, wasn't stupid enough to do that while his best friend was standing beside him, leaning on the same railing, but he wanted to. Sunrise wasn't far off, he hadn't slept. Couldn't imagine sleeping ever again. How was he supposed to sleep without Dorian?_

_Oh God, but that was selfish. Selfish, useless, pathetic fucking_ loser, _no wonder he was gone, no wonder he didn't want anything to do with him, no fucking wonder_ _…_

_Fenris's arm was light over his back and his comfort was wordless. He was just_ there _. Cullen squeezed the railing harder, eyes screwed tight shut, jaw clenched as it crashed over him then. He endured it like a man standing in the ocean amid a tsunami. It was merciless and precise, all the worst of him, turned sharp, weaponised and aimed squarely inward._

_The pain in his hands was not enough to eclipse what was happening inside him, not by a mile but soon enough he couldn't sustain it, suffering draining him of energy, his muscles giving out to the entropy of_ failure _. He wanted to hit himself, to slap his face hard and leave a mark, but Fenris was right there and he wouldn't allow that._

_Cullen kept his eyes closed, did not dare open them even as something in his chest cracked, glass fracturing beneath the weight, and there was only so long it could hold._

_*_

They talked about Jassen as soon as he was out of earshot.

'You're an idiot to give him any measure of hope that he can be part of your life after this,' Fenris said, uncharacteristically curt. 'He is _obsessed_ with you and not in a nice, normal _Dorian Pavus_ kind of way.'

'Let's focus on not dying for now, shall we?' Cullen snipped back, crossing his arms. 'We need him for this.'

'My God, Cullen,' Lee said, equally disapproving, but less angry. 'Of all the people to bond with.'

'I am _not_ bonding with him! He's helping us!'

'This is the same man who attacked you while you were sleeping!'

'He said he was helping me when I had a nightmare!'

The other communication device crackled to life. _'The exterior is clear, they seem to be contained inside. Vehicles parked nearby. Ten to one Cullen already defended me at least once already, over.'_

_'_ They can't hear that, right?' Lee asked, frowning at the walkie talkie.

'They're closed frequency,' Fenris assured her.

Anders spoke into it. 'Scout for optimal entry point and while you're there, see if you can't go and fuck yourself, over.'

_'Can confirm best entry point is the top cloister from my vantage and I'd have to queue up behind you for that privilege, over.'_

Fenris glared accusingly at Anders. 'You _are_ flirting with him. Please desist.'

Anders didn't even deny it. He was watching the screen intently. 'He's there. Jassen, we see you, just shy of the north quadrant. Can you get close enough to try and see inside? We can watch your back from here, over.'

Cullen half expected a lewd comment about Anders _watching_ his back, but Jassen was all business. _'Going dark, standby.'_

'What does—?'

'It means not to say anything until he speaks, so we don't alert them to his presence.'

They watched on the exterior camera as Jassen moved closer to a dark, shadowy portion of the wall. Inches away, the tinted glass emitted a soft glow of light, but permitted no sight beyond that. Jassen tarried in the shadows before carefully moving away again. He melted in the dark, seamless and invisible before a crackle of static hailed his return.

_'Danarius is inside, I heard his voice. He was walking around the property, stationing people here and there. I didn't hear anything else. Scaling the side to reach the top balcony is definitely doable. Coming back now, over and out.'_

Cullen asked for Lee's phone. 'Whatever you're sending Dorian, keep it brief,' Fenris warned, eyeing him. 'No details.'

'OK,' he promised, typing.

**‘Just an update to let you know we're OK, still making plans, love you so so much, give the others kisses and hugs from all of us xxx. _’_**

He sent it quickly, handed it back to Lee as Jassen came over the sandy rise.

'If we're going to do this, we should do it now. The longer we wait, the more it'll devolve in there. Danarius was irritable. He hates Erimond, hates having to work with him.'

'Right then,' Fenris said as Cullen tried to contain his disappointment he might not get to see any reply from Dorian until _after_ this absolute fucking madness. 'Let's go over it.'

*

_After almost twenty four hours since his life had fallen apart, Cullen's phone finally received a message from Dorian. He was sat in his room at Lee's place, everything dark while he tried to think clearly and then that little buzz indicated a notification that he actually wanted._

_Heart in his mouth, he opened it and began to read. It was so long he had to scroll._

**'This is not the proper way to do this but it's the best I can do right now. I am grateful for everything you did for me. I will always be grateful, but you need to stop. Stop sending me messages, stop thinking of me, stop contacting me. I cannot be with you. I don't want to be with you. You're not who I thought you were and I don't think I'm who you thought I was either. Someone who can cope, someone you thought was strong enough to deal with this. You didn't lie to me, but you weren't honest and I can see it now. I can see that there were times you let me believe that you were less than you really are because you knew, deep down, I would struggle with it. You pulled me along and you took me from where I was safe. I was blind to so much because I wanted to believe that you were safe. I wanted to believe in what we had and I ignored so much. You're not to blame and neither am I, but I can't do this. I won't survive it. This is the last message I'm sending you. Please don't try to contact me again. Your life is not my concern and mine is not yours. We're not friends. We're not anything anymore. You go your way and I'll go mine. Respect what I'm asking. I wish you all the best.'**

_Cullen felt like he was falling, dropping hard and fast, crash inevitable. He read it over and over, committing each word to memory. He didn't even realise he was crying until Leliana found him, drew him into her warm embrace as the beginnings of_ grief _began to seep in past all his well-intentioned denial._

_*_

The urge to object, to blurt out that they needed more time, _more_ details about this plan, was hard to suppress. Cullen felt very keenly like he was being told to pilot a rocket-ship after having only been provided a single glance at a TikTok tutorial. He was numb and shaky, but it was easy enough to mimic Fenris's determination and strength, to borrow it like it was his own and most of all, Dorian was safe at home and Lee was in the least danger, that made it just about bearable.

His hands were shaking when he took Anders' place on that sandy bank, sitting with the laptop and what remained of the unnecessary equipment. The rest was being taken and hidden strategically for Lee to get inside once the three of them had been caught trying to get in via the cut off, access code-locked bubble.

It was like an out of body experience, watching them go. He tried telling himself that Fenris had done things like this dozens of times before, but it only made that nervous sickness collide against a solid wall of _terror._

When he was alone, he fought the irrational urge to send Dorian a fucking email telling him how much he loved him, to send one to everyone just in case he _did_ die but he dared hope that should such an event occur, everyone already knew how much he loved them.

He thought that of all his failures in life, letting people know he loved them was perhaps not one of them.

It was almost a relief when he was descended upon by men in SWAT gear and, much to his distant, internal amusement, flak jackets.

*

_He hurt them. He hurt his friends as their situation steadily devolved. He hurt them to make them leave. He said terrible things, truly pushed the boundaries of what could or could not be recovered from and then he fired them. It was that, the cold dismissal and implication that they had been his_ employees, _that really did it. He saw them reach their limit of what was tolerable, of what they would take and stick around for._

_He drank every day to numb the feeling, always reasoning that it was this or getting high, that he was still in control somehow, that he could find his way back one day, but he didn't believe it, not really._

_When he threw a glass at the wall, he heard Sophia let out a tiny scream and that scream hurt him more than he'd ever realised anything could. Cullen was a distant bystander to his actions at this point. Madeline would be within her rights to take Sophia away, even though Jassen lost his temper with Madeline for it, stayed with Cullen for reasons that made no sense, some weird, unearned declaration of loyalty._

_Cullen didn't try to hurt Jassen, didn't care enough about him to bother. He would leave soon enough. Cullen descended into an all too familiar spiral, except this time he had so much more to lose. Bad behaviour in public had_ consequences _, losing his temper had immediate, full sized consequences splattered all over the front page._

_Cullen was hurting everyone in his life, couldn't stop himself from self-destructing because he was hurt inside, he was_ dying _inside. Wracked with guilt, with a sense of loss so sharp that he cut himself freshly on it every time he woke up, rolled over in search of Dorian and found nothing, no one, only Jassen on the windowsill._

_It became commonplace, occurred enough that Cullen didn't question it. There was something strangely comforting about it, his presence there, reminding Cullen of the shadow some years ago. A quiet, still presence, absent of expectations or requirements._

_It made an unbearable kind of sense, that he hurt everyone he loved and so only the loveless remained. It felt like justice._

*

They didn't hurt him, but maybe that was because he put up hardly any fight. They yanked him through the front door into his villa, _their_ beautiful villa or _mansion_ , as Dorian called it, and someone kicked the back of his knees, dropped him hard and painfully to the marble floor, agony shooting up the bones of his thighs, causing his back teeth to grind. His hands were zip tied far too tight and from there, he was dragged into the wide, ordinarily spacious kitchen area, central hub of the entire place, except that it was currently filled with men.

Danarius was a lot less frightening beneath the lights of Cullen's own kitchen, but the threat he posed had not waned in the slightest. Not when he stood, holding a knife to Fenris's throat, Anders and Jassen on their knees nearby, four people with guns trained on them.

Alistair was in the corner, similarly bound and kneeling. He seemed to despair a little when Cullen was brought in and Cullen hated deceiving him, but his reaction likely helped with the ruse.

'Ah, and here's the other,' Danarius crowed, flicking a glance heavy with disdain in Cullen's direction.

Fenris visibly paled, lips parting as he stared at Cullen and tried to reign in his reaction. It was shockingly heartfelt and Cullen genuinely floundered for a moment, wondered if he wasn't _meant_ to get caught, Fenris's acting was so authentic.

'No,' Fenris said quickly. 'No, let him go, please.'

'Begging for all the wrong things, my, you've a lot to re-learn, don't you?'

'Just let him go.'

There was a beat of silence, a long moment where Danarius just studied Fenris. Took hold of his chin and tilted his face up with his good hand, the other still bandaged in a black sling that matched his shirt, _examining_ him.

'You are riddled with it,' he spoke softly. 'It's all tangled up in your veins, look at you. But you are not _unintelligent_ , my little wolf. You never were. A misstep from the dragon, that I would expect, but from you… hmm.'

Erimond - whose man-bun severely threatened Cullen's ability to take him seriously - stepped forward, uncrossing his arms with barely concealed impatience as he addressed his brother. 'I have a _thing_ tomorrow. Are we doing this here or what?'

Danarius didn't even seem to hear him. His focus on Fenris was absolute, even as a smile slowly curved his lips.

'I see fear in you, little one,' he breathed, uncomfortably close as the grip on his chin morphed into a caress. 'That fear grows from the roots of _love_. How many times did I tell you that it would be your downfall? That if you ran, two would take your place?'

Cullen watched in muted, locked-down horror, unable to tell if Fenris's reflexive swallow was real or fake.

'You disobeyed me,' Danarius went on, barely three inches between their faces. He was a tall man, had to tip Fenris' head back almost all the way. 'But that's because you are not _my_ Fenris, are you, _amatus_?'

In answer, Fenris spat at him.

Danarius's mouth curled with disgust and he released Fenris, only to smack him hard across the face. Cullen winced, the sound of it resonating in his bones, helpless empathy causing him to feel the blow as if it were his own.

'That was _rude_ ,' Danarius admonished, tone severe, like a parent whose teenager had returned the family car with a dent. 'Rudeness is so uncalled for, especially when I have been gracious to you and your friends thus far. Such effort I have exerted for you, only to find that you will need to be fully retrained again. Disappointing.'

Danarius inhaled steadily and then wiped the saliva from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He no longer donned a full suit, had opted for something more relaxed, though still obviously expensive. Black and grey, silk and pure wool.

He wore a ring on his right hand little finger and Erimond had a matching one, though that was where the similarities between the brothers ended. Erimond wore skinny jeans, lace up ankle boots and a leather jacket that, when parted, revealed what Cullen thought might actually be a tour t-shirt of Isabela’s last jaunt in Europe, the summer previous.

Danarius didn't seem to be burnt anywhere, not even singed. His only obvious injury was his arm, cradled against his chest.

'Now then,' he said, stepping away from Fenris, who was forced to his knees with the other two, Cullen still standing a good six feet away, flanked by four men. 'You,' Danarius spoke to Anders. 'I will offer a quick death in exchange for your serum.'

'You mean like anti-ageing serum?' Anders quipped, lightly unaffected. 'Because I don't think they make anything to combat that level of ugly.'

Danarius smiled down like a benevolent God. 'The young ones are always so _witty,'_ he mused to himself. 'I do so enjoy the spark of this generation. Mine were the more stoic, silent kind. Many a dull day spent torturing a man back then. But now you're all so chatty. Far more enjoyable, I daresay. Very well. Necessity will draw it out, but remember, this was your choice.'

With his good hand, Danarius picked up a gun and pressed it to the centre of Fenris's chest, drawing back the hammer.

'It'll miss his heart, but _ooh_ , the risk to his central nervous system. He knows about that, of course. His favoured way to kill a man with a knife, find his _middle_. I swear, one time he punched a hole clean through someone. It was a sight to see. Where is the healing serum?'

'I didn't bring any.'

This was it. Cullen wished he wasn't sweating, wished he could make his heart calm as the moment that everything hinged upon came due.

'One.'

Anders grit his teeth. 'I didn't bring it, I _don't—'_

'Two.'

'Please, I can help in other ways, I trained for years to—'

'Three.'

'WAIT!' Cullen burst out, stumbling forward, not a single shred of acting put into it because he was really, truly terrified. 'Wait, I have it, please, please don't hurt him.'

Danarius looked over, surveying Cullen head to toe before nodding at the men holding him. They began to search him, rough and thorough and there, low and behold, they found the cannister.

'That's it,' he babbled, still struggling as if he could somehow get near Fenris. 'That's what you want, just don't hurt him, _please_!'

One man brought it to Danarius who laid down the gun, walking slowly around the kitchen island, examining the cannister.

'So,' he said. 'This is it, then?'

'Yes,' Cullen panted. 'That's it.'

'It matches what they found hidden beneath the flooring of the van,' Erimond said when he peered at it. 'Cannister's the same.'

'Good. I will be in a far better mood with a functional left hand.'

With help from Erimond, whose nose wrinkled in disgust at his task, and two others, Danarius removed his arm from the sling, pulling back layer upon layer of bandages until a faintly sour scent became detectable; like rotting fruit and week old meat.

'That's impressive,' Jassen commented, craning his neck to see. 'You actually _sawed_ below your wrist to make it a neater fit.'

'Shut your mouth,' Erimond warned, though it was a bit weary, like the man hadn't slept properly in weeks and was resigned to Jassen's _ways_. 'Be grateful it wasn't _your_ hand.'

'Side effects?' Danarius enquired, glancing over his shoulder at Anders.

'Sickness, nausea, headaches, searing agony and the risk of cardiac arrhythmia, especially for an old codger like you.'

Anders left out the part about the _coma_.

'I see.' He looked at his brother. 'Apply it.'

Erimond looked down, clearly battling the urge to say _ugh_.

'Just… all around the wrist?' he gestured vaguely. Cullen couldn't see from where he once again knelt on the floor, but by the smell, he was guessing it didn't _look_ great.'

'Yes,' Anders said. 'If it will work, it must absorb fully into the skin, but there is no guarantee. It's been hours.'

They'd discussed that part. Adding a small warning so they didn't seem too eager for him to apply it. All they needed was the momentary panic, just a few moments of chaos for Lee to _hopefully_ be in position to help.

Erimond had the small nozzle right by Danarius's wrist when the older man lifted his good hand, bidding him hold.

'Bring the girl,' he said suddenly, tone still pleasant enough.

Erimond sighed and called out, 'Natalie!'

Danarius shot him a look. 'I could have done that.'

The young girl who had been a helpful fixture in their lives for the last few months came inside. She wore a cool, detached expression, her gaze sweeping the room.

'Sir?'

'The perimeter is all clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Has Samson reported in?'

'Yes, sir. He says your cover remains intact for now, and his.'

'Pavus?'

'Alive. At home in his loft, all told.'

_Alive, alive, alive_ , the word was the baseline of every thud in Cullen's chest, even if later he was going to _scold_ Dorian for not going to Lee's place.

'Excellent. You've done a wonderful job for me, Natalie. I'm very proud of you and will give my utmost compliments to your employer. And my apologies.'

Danarius's smile never faltered as he swept the gun from the countertop and shot Natalie in the stomach, point blank range. The gun had a silencer on it, hence the ridiculous little sound it made when that bullet tore through her middle, came out the other side and lodged in the bottom of the cupboard behind her.

She fell back gracelessly, spluttering and gasping, clutching her stomach.

'Administer a small amount of the serum,' Danarius instructed, curiously. 'Let's see what you'd have me fill myself with.'

'If she has spinal damage, it won't fix that,' Anders pointed out.

He didn't sound nervous, not like Cullen _felt_.

'Don't use too much, that's all there is,' Jassen added. Erimond looked back at him, frowning slightly. Jassen smiled widely, obnoxious as ever but Erimond didn't seem especially _fooled_ by it.

Danarius watched intently as one of his faceless men applied a small amount of the foamy substance to Natalie's freshly exposed abdomen, blood streaming absolutely everywhere, fitting into the grooves of the tiles. She gurgled and tried to breathe, but it was like she'd been punched in the throat.

'Oh, it's a foam,' Danarius observed with clinical interest.

Cullen found himself bending to see, even while he was on the verge of hyperventilation. Natalie began to slur, she began to flail her arms as they went lax and then she passed out. Cullen could just about see bubbling as the foam reacted with her wound. She slipped into unconsciousness.

'Blood loss,' Anders pointed out blandly. 'But see for yourself, what it's done to her skin, even in that small amount of time.'

Danarius did not bend to see, he had his men lift her up, yank back her bloodied top and show him up close.

'Remarkable. I think I will keep _you_ alive and in my employ, at least until I can recreate this marvel. It will come in _very_ handy, pun wholly intended. Will it reconnect nerve endings?'

'Did the surgeon not already do so on your hand?'

'He did, but he was under enormous strain. He insisted the procedure would not be a success.'

'By the smell of it, I agree with him.'

'Well, either way, we can wrap up here. I will apply the serum, or _foam_ as it appears to be, somewhere safe under medical supervision.'

Oh, shit.

'Lock Fenris down. Kill that one,' he said, swivelling to smile cruelly at Cullen. ' _Last._ He is the seed of all the contamination. Let him see how his garden grows.'

Erimond stepped forward. 'What of Jassen?'

'He betrayed me and disintegrated my fucking hand. Your favourite or not, I want him _in pieces_.'

'He'd make for a solid patsy,' Erimond argued. 'Samson said that Pavus named him repeatedly.'

'Pavus is fucking with Samson, he was the distraction for their little _attempt.'_

_'_ Yes, and when I warned you not to come, you ignored me,' Erimond pointed out, weary once more, if somewhat irritable. 'You dropped everything, risked exposure all to come here for _him_.'

'For the serum, too, as I said.'

'You put the Syndicate at risk _yet again_ because of your obsession. Jassen is _useful_. Just because you have no desire for him, does not render him disposable.'

It was quite something to kneel in his own kitchen, blood of a young woman reaching his knees while watching two brothers _argue_ about murder as if contesting ownership of a car.

'I am pretty useful,' Jassen agreed with a modest shrug.

Danarius scowled but then it melted away into an unpleasant smile. 'Well, why not settle it, hmm?'

'I'm only pointing out that—'

'Your champion versus mine, what say you, brother?'

Erimond blinked and then his expression became painfully frustrated. 'What the fuck is this now?'

'Let's have them fight in earnest.'

'I was literally just pointing out that it helps the narrative already in motion to—'

' _No,_ no,' Danarius countered, all false pleasantness towards his brother. 'You've long maintained that Jassen is your best, despite his wayward tendencies. Let's see him go up against my little wolf.'

Erimond looked around with evident exasperation. 'How about _no?_ Look, there is _work_ to be done, do you realise that? What you fled and left in tatters has taken years to rebuild and you cannot just drain resource after resource to sate your wounded pride on a failed experiment!'

Danarius did Erimond the courtesy of waiting until he'd finished speaking before he pistol whipped him across the face. The gun went flying, clattered into a corner and Cullen was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

'How you dare speak to me like that, I'll never understand. Our Father named me _Dominus_ of the empire even as he lay dying from wounds I inflicted. I am the backbone of this Syndicate. I am it's beating heart!'

'Yeah,' Erimond said, hand over his bleeding mouth, eyes narrowed. 'Hearts and spine, neither are indestructible nor unique. I ran things better without you.'

'You ran our empire from the shadows like a frightened child!'

'We are _meant_ to operate from the shadows! Your delusions of grandeur have brought us ever closer to discovery and now, now here we stand in the home of _Cullen_ fucking _Rutherford_ ,' Erimond sent a heated glance Cullen's way. 'Big fan, by the way,' he said before glaring back at his brother. 'And you're proposing some kind of gladiator-esque duel with two people who are clearly allies!'

Danarius smiled. 'Precisely.'

Erimond spat blood on the floor and rubbed his eyes. 'Fucking hell. Fine. Make them fight, the fuck do I care? Christ, just hurry it up, this whole island is bringing out my allergies.'

'That'll be the pine,' Jassen supplied.

'Wonderful!' Danarius glanced at his men, a manic kind of energy about him now. 'Set up a firing squad, make it a circle, right outside there. Whoever goes down and stays down for five seconds, put holes in them. If no one fights, shoot them both on the count of ten.'

Cullen didn't know what was happening, his mind wasn't functioning. Where was Lee, was she still waiting for Danarius to slip into a coma? Cullen looked over at Alistair, then at Fenris as he was hauled up with Jassen.

'Have one of them open the back door,' Danarius ordered. 'Ensure the print only holds for two seconds.' He gave Fenris a sickeningly adoring gaze, almost love-struck. 'You kept me close, didn't you, little wolf? Embedded me into all your safe points. Mine deep down, aren't you?'

'I am _not_ yours,' Fenris said, voice trembling with anger.

'You always have been and now you'll prove your worth to me once more. Seems only fitting you kill the man who harmed me, retroactive payment as my _bodyguard_.'

Both Jassen and Fenris were surrounded by men whose weapons were aimed steadily. They used Fenris's thumb print to open the back door and out they went into the night, but Cullen, Anders and Alistair were left behind, guarded by four. Erimond wandered over to Natalie, crouching down as Danarius walked outside, easing his bad arm back into the sling.

Curiously, Erimond tapped her face a few times, drew back an eyelid, even lightly slapped her.

'Blood loss, huh?' he commented under his breath. This close, Cullen could see he had a small star tattoo behind his ear and a beaded bracelet on his wrist. He fixed Cullen with a measured gaze. 'My brother knows where your daughter is,' Erimond told Cullen. 'Where she's being held with her mother. He's going to kill them both when we return. He's going to kill everyone you've ever cared for.'

Cullen remained silent, jaw clenching hard, neck muscles straining. The anger was a living thing within, writhing and growing, stretching and _pushing_ all the air out of his lungs as the threat to his daughter began to sink in.

'I half expected heroics,' Erimond commented, his words vague and calm yet with an intensity in his gaze belying all else. 'But maybe you're fresh out.'

He pushed up on his knees to stand and hovered by the countertop. 'Rebstein,' he called out to his brother. 'The cannister was air tight when we opened it. I think it might be susceptible to decay.'

Danarius reappeared, agitated to have been interrupted.

'What?'

'See here,' Erimond said, offering the cannister. 'The seal is the kind used to store temperamental materials. I think you need to use it now because I think they're banking on you delaying.'

'What of _her_ wound?'

'It's almost fully healed, at least from the outside,' Erimond said, placing the cannister down. 'Why not let them do it while you watch the fight? You only have a small window of opportunity and we don't know how long it takes to make more of it.'

The older brother seemed to be weighing everything, all the moving parts. Erimond yawned and adjusted his man-bun, tightening it before tapping his fingernails on the surface besides the cannister.

'Yes, good idea,' Danarius said at last and from outside, Cullen heard the sick impact of a fist on flesh, couldn't tell whose. 'All right, you come help me, brother mine.' Erimond scooped up the cannister and walked out. Danarius glanced at the men who stood above Cullen.

'Kill those two when the fight ends. Make it hurt.'

He about turned and left, headed outside. Cullen couldn't see past the island, couldn't make out what was happening. His ears were ringing, heart thundering. Sophia. Danarius was going to kill _Sophia_.

Anders was closest to the door and Cullen could just about see him in his peripheral vision. 'Wait,' he said quietly to Cullen.

'Wait for what?' one of the men asked.

The medic seemed to be listening, though how he could hear anything over the thud-thump-smack of a bare knuckle fight, Cullen would never understand.

'Not yet.'

'What are you—'

'Just listening to the fight,' another man suggested, looking down at Cullen. 'Hey, I liked your song, _Swim Into The Tide.'_

'Yeah, everyone does,' Cullen heard himself say, his focus on Anders, just _waiting_ for a sign, for a hint of hope, fucking anything. He tried to tell himself he'd done this before, that he'd let himself be pulled down into the dark, dangerous underworld and that just like _before_ , Lee would save him, would save them all.

'I like that whole album actually,' the guard went on, quite conversational. 'It really explored the nuance of complicated relationships while challenging a lot of stereotypes. But oh, the new song, _Home?_ That blew me away. Your best vocals too.'

'Hey,' the other guard warned, stepping closer to Anders. 'What is that in your hand?'

Anders looked up at the man, bare faced and said, 'Justice.'

The lights went out. The darkness was merciless and it was total. No moon, no backup generators, the villa was plunged into pitch black and in the seconds before all hell broke loose, Cullen took his chance.

He did the only thing he _could_ do then, which was make for Alistair. He had to trust that Anders could handle himself, had to believe that Fenris and Jassen were capable of somehow surviving. He crawled through the kitchen he would know blindfolded and well, he sort of was.

Anders had clearly got free and was fighting in the dark with the guards. There was a thump, then a crash and then _more_ sounds that Cullen couldn't distinguish.

Along the way, Cullen yanked out the cutlery drawer, sending metal instruments clattering to the ground as the guards turned torches on at the end of their weapons. Fingers straining, wrists _burning_ , he found a large knife. He'd made it to Alistair just as two shots were fired and then the guns were dropped.

'Free him and get upstairs,' Anders said, before he took the guns and fled outside to where all the _real_ noises were coming from.

The words _firing squad_ had Cullen's heart in a fucking stranglehold, but he sounded steady when he told Alistair to turn, awkwardly used the knife to cut his ties, even if he did accidentally cut his hand along the way more than once. He felt Alistair's wrists spring free.

Alistair yanked his gag off, took the knife and cut Cullen's restraints in return.

'Lee is here,' Cullen told him, voice lowered as they ducked behind the island. Someone outside was screaming, no one Cullen recognised so he didn't stop to care. 'Get up to the bubble, it's safe there, that's where she promised to go once she cut the power.'

Alistair was holding Cullen's shoulder with one hand, knife in the other. 'No fucking _way_ , no, I can help, let me—'

More men came running through the kitchen, streaming towards the commotion outside. Someone stupidly tried to fire _through_ the glass, but it was Lucite, so the bullets pinged and ricocheted. Cullen yanked Alistair close, the pair trying to protect one another.

The screaming ended abruptly, more shots fired, more yelling, some of it genuinely terrified and the rest of the men fled outside.

'Go,' Cullen whispered frantically when there seemed to be no one left in the kitchen. 'Protect her, _please_. You know the way, go on.'

Alistair didn't waste time debating, he squeezed Cullen's shoulder, took the knife with him and crawled off into the darkness, headed for the stairs. Cullen leaned back against the cabinet for a few seconds, forcing air into his lungs. Three solid deep breaths before he stood up and swivelled to see what was happening outside. 

There was no moon and no light coming from anywhere except for the split second orange glow of the weapons being fired. It painted a jagged picture, stuttered animation of the complete fucking _madness_ out there.

Cullen started forward, but tripped over something huge and solid. He crashed down awkwardly in the dark where his hands met a warm, wet body. Natalie was still on the floor, slippery puddle of blood all around her.

There was a genuine moment of quandary when he wondered if he should try and help her, despite everything she'd done. It passed quickly when he heard a sound outside that was more familiar, a _Fenris_ sound.

Cullen felt around her waist, the right hand side had a gun in a holster. He took the gun and rose slowly, looking all around but all the action was, thus far, outside. He seemed to be alone in the kitchen.

He definitely heard Fenris yell something then, his voice unmistakable. Cullen didn't realise it was a warning to get down until the pitch black of night exploded into bright, burning light, so vivid and dazzling it seared his corneas, damn near blinded him.

It wasn't a big blast, nothing like what Anders had unleashed on the warehouse, but he'd still felt the _push_ of it, even from inside, the wide open glass doors not five feet away.

Whatever it was, it had set fire to the wooden veranda, was burning one of the chairs and now, _now_ Cullen could see what was happening.

Jassen had Danarius in a choke hold, the older man struggling to stay conscious, constantly dropping his head and jerking it back up again. His bad arm was hanging limply. Jassen was flanked on either side by Anders and Fenris, both of whom were…

_Shit_.

They were _covered_ in blood.

Anders was spattered all over and it was all up Fenris's arms, like he'd reached down into a bucket of red _paint_. It looked almost black in the firelight, but there was no mistaking it. Bodies were scattered around, still and broken. Anders had one remaining gun. He was turning slowly and precisely on the spot, aiming it at everyone in turn. They were almost entirely surrounded, but Cullen could see through the gaps.

'CULLEN!' Fenris bellowed, not looking in his direction, focused on the men. 'GET THEM OUT!'

He didn't know Cullen was standing there and in that moment, Cullen knew that doing as he was told was the _right_ thing to do, not least because he would only be used against Fenris. Would become a hostage once more, that was his _value_. An anchor, a weighted obligation. He knew the _smart_ thing to do was exactly what Fenris had said.

But he couldn't make his feet move.

He _trusted_ that Lee was safe with Alistair in the bubble and he trusted that he could do this.

Cullen raised the gun, aimed it at Danarius and even though he couldn't aim for shit, had never fired a gun in his whole life, they didn't have to know that, did they?

'MAKE A PATH!' he roared, loud as he could. 'I HAVE DANARIUS IN MY SIGHT, MAKE A PATH OR I'LL PUT A HOLE IN HIM!'

He hoped it was the kind of thing people like Fenris and Anders would have said, professional enough to fool any of them. It didn't sound _afraid,_ at least.

Fenris spun around, weapon-less but for his hands and oh, God, that was a glare Cullen would never forget. His teeth were bared, he was all but _feral_ , blood covered and _pushed_ to that point of physical peak he'd sought to explore when they got him back. This was it, this was what he'd been chasing, albeit unknowingly. The ability to rent men apart, to kill them with his bare hands.

Danarius's little wolf, except he was _furious_ at Cullen, so much so it had his breath trembling when he exhaled, visible in the cold, fire-lit night.

The ring around them, the men with guns, half turned, but there was confusion now.

'Get in here!' he instructed in his sternest voice, trying not to laugh at how _angry_ Fenris would be later for this stunt. This, he realised, was why Dorian laughed sometimes when things were terrible. Bubbling hysteria reacting and clashing with pulsing pounding adrenaline.

'Do it!' another voice chimed in from the side, weak with some sort of injury. Erimond came into the picture, clutching his stomach, though Cullen saw no blood. 'We can't risk them hurting him, _move_!'

The armed men parted like the red sea and warily, steadily, Fenris and Anders covered Jassen as he dragged Danarius, now almost fully unconscious, inside the kitchen of the villa.

There were _so many_ guns trained on them then that Cullen couldn't help but imagine how that would feel, what a way to die. Once they were _inside_ , Anders closed the sliding doors and locked them.

Outside, some of the men in the firelight lowered their guns, looking to Erimond. Cullen let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as they melted back into the shadows, away from the fire light.

'Where's Lee and Alistair?' Fenris asked quietly when they were in the entrance hallway. 'They're safe?'

'I sent Alistair up there, haven't seen Lee.'

'He's almost fully unconscious,' Jassen grunted. 'Can I drop him? My ribs are broken and he weighs a fuck-ton.'

'So long as _dropping him_ isn't a euphemism for killing him,' Fenris said distractedly.

Jassen released Danarius with a loud, unceremonious thump, catching his breath before he made for Cullen. In the absolute gloom, Jassen was only a grey shadow. Somehow, he was more familiar that way.

'You hurt?'

Cullen shook his head. 'I'm fine. Fen?'

'We're OK,' Fenris said, carefully taking the gun from Cullen's hand. 'Can you carry Danarius upstairs? I'll do a quick sweep down here, make sure it's secure and meet you there.'

'Yeah, OK, I'm-I'm sorry if you're—'

'You were amazing,' he told Cullen firmly. 'You did _great_.'

Oh, sure!' Anders complained. 'When _Cullen_ does something reckless and daring, it's _great_! I'm so fucking unappreciated in my time.'

'You did great too,' Fenris said, taking hold of Cullen's hand now that it was free of the gun, squeezing gently for just a moment, just enough to right the world. 'Everyone did.'

'Even me?'

'Yes, Jassen, even you. Sorry about your ribs, by the way.'

'Eh, the lower left always give easily.'

Cullen heaved Danarius's not inconsiderable weight upstairs, all the way to the narrow, secure entry into Leliana's custom built bubble. Cullen's arms were trembling beneath the weight as he stood there. Dorian had felt much lighter.

The door unlocked from inside, opening outward.

'Trick or treat!' Jassen chirped.

'They're surrounding the villa,' Alistair said as they carefully traipsed inside and Cullen dropped Danarius a second time with not a care for how hard the fucker landed. 'You guys all right?' His breath caught, looking behind Cullen. 'Where's—where's Fenris?'

'He’s OK,' Cullen said as they embraced. 'He's doing a quick sweep. Lee, are you—?'

'We're fine,' she promised, slender arms around him with no hesitation. Comfort in the brief interludes of abject hell. 'I saw what you did. Very brave.'

'Very _stupid_ ,' Fenris corrected dryly, but there was a touch of exhausted humour about it as he stepped into the room after them, locking the door behind him. 'We're secure for now. Our castle is holding up under siege.'

Alistair ran to Fenris, flinging his arms around him, almost lifting him clean off his booted toes as he clung to him, embraced him, _kissed_ him.

Fenris had his hands on either side of Alistair's face when they parted. 'You're all right? Did they hurt you?'

Cullen couldn't see their expressions, could not _see_ what he could hear; pained concern bleeding into affection, into relief so powerful it came in a rush and Cullen understood, knew exactly how it felt to hold the person you cared for, feeling them for injuries, making sure they were safe, that their heart was beating as it should.

'I'm fine,' Alistair promised him. 'They didn't hurt me and I knew you'd come. That man, Erimond, he told me to send a message saying everything was fine, but I knew you’d figure it out with the kisses.'

‘Actually, that was Dorian.’

‘Where is Dorian, is he all right?’

‘He’s back in London, he’s fine,’ Cullen said.

Lee joined them. ‘What of Natalie? I saw Danarius shoot her.’

Fenris still had one hand on Alistair’s cheek. ‘I checked her pulse downstairs, she’s dead.’

Lee hissed something in low French. Anders said, ‘Injury like that would require the entire cannister. She likely bled out from the exit wound on the other side.’

‘No tragic loss,’ Lee said darkly. She turned her attention to Fenris and Alistair. Cullen gave them what little privacy he could, turning to stare out at the near panoramic view.

Anders sat on the floor, going through the backpack and kit that Lee had snuck in with her. 'They can't see us, I'm guessing?'

'Special glass,' Lee answered, a tiny bit breathless from what Cullen assumed was some kind of three way kiss, the very idea of it warming his heart ridiculously. Dorian would be so happy for them.

_Dorian_.

'Lee, you have the phone?'

'On the floor,' she answered. 'But maybe don't send Dorian anything else until we're actually clear and safe.'

Cullen knew she was right; nothing would be worse than offering false hope, telling Dorian they were safe when there was still a solid chance they _weren't_.

'Right, who's hurt?' Anders asked, his kit set out before him. 'I've got iodine, I've got bandages, I've got stitches; get 'em while they're fresh.'

Jassen crouched in front of the glass, looking out intently. 'All good, thanks.'

Rather than capitulate spectacularly and do something stupid like _call_ Dorian, Cullen joined him on the floor, settling awkwardly.

'You're hurt,' Cullen pointed out.

Jassen didn't answer, his gaze was focused on one point right by the steadily burning veranda. Cullen followed his stare, saw Erimond speaking with three men.

'What are you thinking?'

'I'm weighing outcomes.'

'Are any… good?'

Jassen shrugged. 'At least thirty percent.'

'Shockingly high,' Fenris said from behind them. 'Alistair needs stitches for his hand.'

'I _don't_ , I'm fine.'

Cullen half turned. 'Oh, I'm so sorry,' he said, regret searing the back of his throat. 'I didn't mean to—'

'Only Cullen Rutherford could apologise for rescuing you,' Alistair chuckled, sitting in front of Anders, despite his protests.

'Jassen,' Fenris said. 'You know this man, Erimond.'

The assassin answered levelly. 'I know him, yes.'

'Can we trust that he wants his brother dead?'

'You can trust that, yes.'

'What can't we trust?'

'That he's not scrambling someone to air drop something large and explosive on top of us. He wants his brother dead, especially because of the mess he's made in trying to get you back, but he'd also be happy to tie up loose ends.'

'He defended you earlier.'

Jassen shrugged. 'I make for an excellent surface villain. I tie it all together nicely. The stalker, the rogue assassin with an obsession. It's neat if it ends with me.'

'Lee, where are your handcuffs?'

Alistair and Lee answered in perfect unison, 'Top drawer.'

Fenris lifted the slender set of drawers from beneath the floor where they were cleverly hidden to make space. He handcuffed Danarius's good hand to his ankle, causing his position to look almost foetal.

Cullen peered at his face. 'Is he comatose?'

'I'm going to need a bit more light,' Anders said. 'And no, not quite. He'd only put the smallest amount on before he clocked that it was doing something to him and he wiped it off. It's knocked him out, not put him fully under.'

Fenris turned the spotlights on halfway, low light filling the bubble. Cullen couldn't help but feel nervous about it, despite knowing that no one could see in from the outside.

'They tried shooting at the glass,' Lee said, sat beside Alistair as Anders bandaged his hand. 'It made a pretty noise.'

Anders said, 'What if we killed him and just tossed his body down there?'

'Erimond would be grateful but his men are mostly _Danarius's_ men. Some of them are very loyal. They would demand retribution.'

'We kill them all, then?' Leliana asked, glancing over at Jassen.

'In an ideal world, yeah. But short of a mini gun or nerve gas, there's precious little we can do from here.'

'So we go down,' Fenris said. 'Take them out one by one, guerrilla style?'

'That would be smart. The others could stay here, Anders with them while we pick them off. The problem is that Erimond is smart too. He'll anticipate it.'

Cullen looked at Jassen. He was spattered with blood, all three of them were, though Jassen had a perfect, almost artful spray of it right across his face. His focus on the fire lit area beneath was absolute.

'What would you do, if you were him?'

Jassen frowned slightly. 'I would set fire to the villa, especially around the exits and then I'd wait until the fire made you desperate enough to climb out the balcony and pick you off one by one.' His frown deepened. 'If the villa didn't burn, then I'd get people to find your daughter. I'd hold her somewhere, show you video of her. I'd let you think there was hope, that I only wanted Danarius alive.' He moved his gaze very slowly to Cullen then before he said, 'But I'm _not_ Erimond. I'm not Danarius either.'

_I know you're not_ , Cullen wanted to say, but didn't.

'So we flip the script again? Do the unexpected?'

'He can't just firebomb us if we have Danarius.'

'If he convinces his men that Danarius is dead, he can.'

'Fuck's sake,' Anders muttered. 'We have to wake him up?'

'We could rouse him enough for proof, distract them with a visual and then Jassen and I can—'

'Your absence will be completely suspicious,' Lee said, coming to kneel beside Cullen, watching them through the glass. 'They'll be looking for you both, Anders too. They don't _know_ I'm here.'

'Sweetheart,' Alistair said reasonably. 'You're the walking incarnation of dark glory, but even you can't go down there and kill thirty armed men.'

'I don't need to kill thirty,' she said solemnly. 'I can just shoot Erimond from a hidden position.'

'Absolutely not.'

'No way.'

'I think it's a pretty good idea.'

'Shut the fuck up, Jassen!'

'But she shouldn't kill Erimond,' the assassin was quick to add, turning to look at Anders. 'You got any more IEDs, terrorist?'

'Go fuck yourself sideways and _no_ ,' Anders snapped but then he frowned defensively. 'I mean, I have a few flash bangs, localised incendiaries and one distance trigger in the kit, but nothing of that magnitude.'

'Perfect. Leliana can slip out while we all stand on the balcony with Danarius. Plant what we need in their vehicles parked up near the trees.'

'They wouldn't leave the vehicles unmanned,' Fenris snarled, moving slowly closer to Jassen with what seemed like murderous intent. 'There is _no way_ we're risking her life for a mere distraction.'

'It will panic Erimond. If we hint that we have cavalry on the way, when the cars go boom, he'll think we're saved. His men will make a botched attempt to recover their _master_ or they'll go full metal jacket to avenge him. Some will flat out _leave_. Either way, mistakes will be made and Leliana will be far away, hiding safely in the trees.'

Cullen felt almost _pleased_ that Jassen hadn't suggested he go with Lee, that he too should go hide in the trees.

'That's inviting chaos and hoping for a half decent outcome,' Anders said, eyes narrowed slightly. 'I don't believe you truly think that would work. You're _lying_ again.'

Jassen gave a sigh serrated with disgust. 'Jesus Christ, human lie detector over here. How many people did you torture and interrogate to get good at that?'

'Enough to know, confidently, that you're being deceptive again. Just when I was starting to hate you slightly less, as well.'

'What's your plan?' Cullen asked him. 'Tell us, maybe we can help.'

Fenris looked away with a sneer. 'If he's lying about it, that means it involves some of us dying. Anyone but you, Cullen.'

'Oh for— _fine_.' Jassen sighed shortly. 'I was going to make a deal with Erimond while the others scattered.'

Alistair looked over, holding his bandaged hand. 'A deal for who? Who were you going to trade?'

'The only one who has any value to him,' Jassen said flatly. 'Which is me. Once the cars blow, those with no loyalty to Danarius will run, assuming the big leagues have arrived. Those with loyalty will go berserker. We can take them down.'

Alistair gestured vaguely. 'So then just take Erimond down too!'

'No. The Syndicate cannot be left to its own devices again. Leaderless madness will lead to half-arsed vengeance plots which will be directed your way. Erimond can be reasoned with. He operates from the shadows, doesn't hold grudges. I can level with him.'

'He'll expect you to take the fall, that’s why you’re valuable?'

'That's already in motion with what Dorian told the police.'

Anders stared intently, squinting. ' _Almost_ completely true.'

'All right, _almost_ will have to do.' Leliana stood up. 'This is the closest thing we have to a successful plan.'

'Wrong,' Fenris said, glowering at her, his arms stained with dried blood. 'We don't know how fully the place is surrounded, if they've established a crow’s nest in the trees, if they have thermal radiation sensors in the vehicles to see you coming. I don't doubt your ability to be sneaky, Lee, but there is _no way_ I'm risking you.'

'I can do this!'

'I know you can, but I can't let you. This is not your _world_!'

' _You_ are my world!' she snapped. 'You and Cullen and Alistair and everyone back home, waiting for us to _deal_ with this! This is my world and this is my _land!_ Trespassers will not be tolerated.'

Fenris seemed _caught_ between grudging respect and painfully inconvenient desire. 'It's too uncertain,' he whispered, a tiny bit breathless.

'It's _my_ turn to risk myself for those I love,' she replied staunchly. 'I can do this, I have plans.'

He laughed at that; broken, wrought little thing that had him shaking his head. 'You always have plans.'

'I swear to you, I'll stay in the shadows. I got up in here without anyone seeing, didn't I? I'm not a man; I'm not about to do something _stupid_ or _brave_.'

'She's the only one they don't know is here,' Jassen said.

Fenris remained silent and Lee looked back at Cullen, pleading.

Cullen joined them where they stood. 'Trust her to be strong.'

The silver haired man screwed his eyes tight in angry capitulation, and breathed, 'Fucking _hell_ , all right.'

*

There were no messages from Dorian and Cullen couldn't think of anything to send that didn't sound like he was about to die. He hoped Dorian was asleep, was resting. He hoped he could wake up with a kiss when they got home.

Erimond started setting fires at the exit points around the house, just as Jassen had predicted.

'That will confuse thermal tracking, at least,' Fenris admitted quietly.

'And I can slip out through the downstairs bathroom window,' Lee said, changing into her own clothes; slinky and all black with a pair of Dr Martens. 'I'll be fine.'

'Here,' Anders said, handing her something small that glinted in the light. 'Better safe than sorry.'

Fenris seemed suddenly fascinated with examining the handgun.

Lee looked down at the small, folded knife. 'Is that— _really?'_

Anders spoke earnestly. 'A weapon is neither good nor bad, only the wielder decides its fate. Trust me, this one has saved my arse more than once.'

Leliana pocketed it, along with what seemed to be an entire diatribe aimed squarely at the medic.

Fenris very carefully led the way downstairs, Anders, Alistair and Jassen guarding Danarius upstairs. Everything was dark, quiet. The smell of smoke was seeping inside.

'There is no way the building would ever burn,' Lee said confidently, but Cullen saw her nervous swallow as she glanced at the orange glow from outside.

'I'm going to watch from the bathroom window,' Fenris said, for the tenth time. 'Cover you until you reach the vehicles. How long is the delay on the devices?'

'Ten seconds.'

‘Where do you put them?’

‘Over the fuel tanks.’

'And when do you arm them?'

'When I hear someone yelling.'

'And then what?'

'I run to the trees like a woman fleeing persecution for witchcraft, I'm not an idiot.' Inside the small bathroom, where Cullen had _oh so_ wonderful memories of time spent with Dorian, Fenris slowly opened the top window, narrow and just wide enough for Lee to slip out of.

'If they could be detonated remotely, I would go,' he said, _again_.

'Well, they can't be,' Lee said, one knee on the sink, ready to push up and climb. 'Now, tell me you love me.'

' _Leliana_.'

'I'm not like Cullen and Dorian. I require abundant declarations in the face of overwhelming odds. I'll not be parted from either of you without hearing it.'

'I love you,' he told her, like the words were glass in his throat, so much pain to say something so small.

'I love you too,' she told him plainly, honestly. 'Cullen, tell me you love me.'

'I love you, Lee.'

'Love you both, so much. Keep Alistair safe,' she said, gripping the top of the window. 'Come get me when everyone bad is dead or dealt with.'

They handed the devices and a few other necessities to her through the window and then watched her go, Fenris peering through the gap, barrel of the gun trained in the direction she went. Cullen couldn't see, but he trusted Fenris's line of sight.

'She's well hidden, close to the woods,' he said softly, nodding to himself. 'Fucking hell _,_ the state of our lives sometimes.'

Cullen's fear was well contained beneath adrenaline fuelled clarity. He understood now how Jassen was able to quip so much when things were dire. 'Just imagine what a great movie they'll make about it, though.'

'Oh _God_ ,' Fenris sighed, wrinkling his nose. 'I suppose that's inevitable.'

'They better cast good people.'

'I'd actually prefer a well-made series, maybe HBO or Showtime.'

They smiled at one another, gentle thing in yet another _in between_ moment, before Fenris sobered slightly.

'I keep waiting for Jassen to betray us.'

'I don't think he will.'

'He could be vying for a position of power within the Syndicate.'

'Well,' Cullen said, looking down. 'I've been reliably informed that I'm ridiculously naive, so maybe my opinion doesn't count for much, but I really don't think he'll betray us.'

' _You_ , you mean.'

'No, _us_. I trust him. There have been too many times he's helped when he didn't have to.'

'If Erimond offered to let you walk in exchange for our lives, I think we might see something different.'

Cullen couldn't help but bristle. ' _Really_? He knocked you out before you walked into the barn, he almost died keeping you from Danarius.'

'He could have done that because he thought Danarius would trigger me and force me to kill everyone, you included.'

'No, Dorian told me he was going to do it, up until a certain point when he realised I…' Cullen cleared his throat. 'That I'd be lost without you.'

Fenris seemed almost sad; it played around his eyes, swirling amid the beginnings of fatigue. 'Oh Cullen, to see the world with your eyes.' He pushed away from the wall. 'Look, I'm not arguing and he's too useful to us right now, but I'm simply saying let's be careful once this is over.'

Cullen affected a shaky smile. 'I really, really want this to be over.'

'It will be soon,' Fenris promised, though that didn't do anything to lessen the dread, potential double meaning heavy in the air.

'How are you doing, with the memories?'

Fenris smiled, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. 'Another bathroom heart to heart. I'm OK. The memories are, hmm, perhaps assimilating is a good word. It's painful, but not unbearable.' He opened his eyes, dark shadow passing behind his somewhat glassy gaze. 'Though I understand now your horror at the security I implemented. I understood before, abstractly, but now I _understand_. I was securing you the way he secured me.'

'I'm so sorry. For everything.'

'I thought it would change me, to remember.' He shifted uncomfortably. 'I thought the memories would take over, but there are, it turns out, too many good ones. I was afraid for so long.'

Cullen watched him for a long moment. 'You love Alistair.'

'I do. It's not the way I love Lee, the way I love you, even.' He tilted his head slightly, something almost like a smile present. 'It could be, though.'

'Have you told him?'

'No, but I will. Once things are safer.' There was something fierce about the way Fenris looked at Cullen then. 'Thank you for being my friend. For dragging me into your frankly mental life. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.' He took a swift breath before Cullen could reply and opened the bathroom door. 'We should get back. Can't be late to our own show, can we?'

*

Danarius was conscious when they returned to the bubble.

'Lee just checked in,' Alistair said, holding the small walkie talkie. 'She's all set up.'

'Great,' Fenris said with a nod, but his gaze was on Danarius. 'He talking?'

'Non-stop,' Anders complained, face lit up by the laptop. 'We're in the reverse psychology stage right now, just finished some truly imaginative death threats. Also, they're jamming our communications.'

'To be expected.'

'Fenris,' Danarius said as soon as there was a lull. 'Look at you, blood up to your elbows, just like I taught you. Always such a good boy, fast learner. Did you punch clean through or was it pre-existing bullet holes that made it easier?'

Fenris swerved expertly. 'Your brother wants you dead.'

'Nothing new there,' Danarius chuffed with evident amusement, all of it focused on Fenris. 'He is a rank, arrogant little upstart with _delusions_ of how to streamline a business I singlehandedly turned to an empire. He is the _now_ child, herald of the modern and I refuse him at every turn. Of course he wants me dead.'

Cullen glanced over at Jassen, who seemed nervous, looking down at the orange flames with a tight jaw.

Danarius picked up on it instantly. 'It's the fire,' he whispered loudly. 'Each pit has a row of punishment rooms, they're _themed_. Mostly, it's to keep the guards amused, but also to imprint specific fears. Jassen spent more time than anyone in the _Lightbulb_. Always had a fear of fire ever since, didn't you, little dragon?'

'The building won't burn,' Cullen told him firmly.

Jassen remained silent.

'So!' Danarius said, abruptly cheerful. 'What's it to be? Trading my life for your freedom will not work. Killing me will grant my brother carte blanche to wipe this place off the map. You could take them out one at a time, but so very risky, especially with all your _beloveds_ inside. Not long until the sun rises and you've no more shadows to hide in.'

Fenris crouched before the man, masterfully detached.

'You won't see the sunrise,' he told him with all the calm certainty in the world. 'I promise you that.'

Danarius's gaze roamed over Fenris's face, adoring affection tangled up with bitter darkness. 'You'll never be free of me, pet. Never. I took a sad little boy off the streets and turned him into a weapon. I stole a pup and reared a wolf. You will always bear my marks, slave to my legacy.'

'Men like you,' Fenris said, almost wonderingly. 'believe your legacy matters so much. You think it will outlast time itself. That anyone will care when you're gone. As if somehow, you found immortality in my suffering. You're dead already, Danarius. You're living on borrowed time, that's all.' He moved away, expression shuttered. 'Gag him well before we go out.'

'Gag me when I know things you never will?' Danarius interjected swiftly. 'When I've been watching you all for _years_? When I know things even Jassen does not?'

'God, they love to monologue, don't they?' Anders sighed, moving forward with a gag, but Fenris halted him.

'What do you know?'

'Get me through this alive and I'll tell you everything and more. You have a family, Fenris, a real one. Did you know that? You have a sister, you even have a _Father_.'

Jassen muttered, 'That's the plot of Star Wars.'

Cullen felt irrationally terrified that Fenris was going to _fall_ for this, for such a ploy at a time when things were tenuous enough, but his friend simply stared down at Danarius for a few seconds before he blinked and said, 'I already have a family. Gag him.'

Danarius struggled, but he was bound cleverly and soon enough, his toxic words were no more than muffled grunts.

Fenris took a deep breath. 'Jassen, kill whoever you need to, so long as it isn't one of us.'

Jassen turned, offended. 'As if I wasn't going to _anyway?'_

'Well, consider yourself to have _limited_ free reign.'

'I mean, that's a whopping great juxtaposition there, but sure, I get it.'

'Except for him,' Fenris said, looking down at Danarius. 'He's mine to kill, understand?'

'Then keep him on a tight leash.'

Anders stood up. 'Is everyone ready?'

'I think so,' Alistair said, clearly swallowing nerves. 'I just kind of lurk in the background, yeah?'

'So they can see you, but not so you're in any immediate danger, yes. The position of the balcony is excellent, there's nowhere for sharp shooters to set up.'

'What do _I_ do?' Cullen asked.

Fenris smiled wryly, double checking how many bullets there were in the two remaining guns. 'As Lee would say, stand there and look pretty.'

*

Whatever Anders had given Danarius had fully woken him instead of simply rousing him and he struggled hard when they hauled him out onto the balcony. Cullen immediately tasted smoke and metal, fire beneath them blazing as it consumed the veranda and in the distance, rain was approaching.

'Hold, hold,' he heard Erimond say calmly. 'Jassen, what are your terms?'

Fenris actually _bristled. '_ He doesn't speak for us.'

Erimond stared. 'I don't know you. I know Jassen.'

Jassen being Jassen couldn't help but smirk. He leaned on the balcony as if casually chatting Erimond up. 'Did you catch a bullet there?'

Danarius's man-bun wearing brother shrugged and scratched his left ear. 'Through and through, I'm fine. What are your terms? You know you can't kill him.'

Jassen smiled darkly. 'You jammed us too late.'

' _Us_ , is it? Not like you to break your solo streak,' Erimond observed as if they were having a pleasant, friendly conversation. 'So, what? You've called in the big guns, have you? Hoping we'll turn tail and leave you to it?'

Danarius struggled, gag effective in muffling his instructions and the position he was in with his right hand chained to his left leg made him lean heavily against Cullen. Alistair hovered behind.

'Fair warning,' Jassen shrugged.

Erimond's lips curled, almost fondly. 'You're a lot of things, Emory, but fair is not one of them. You have terms or not?'

'I'll hand over to my second in command,' Jassen said, shooting Fenris a teasing look and gesturing.

'You're stalling, then?' Erimond nodded to himself, glancing around. 'But if you were _really_ stalling, you wouldn't be out here. I wonder who it was who made the lights go out? Someone else you've got stashed away in there or maybe somewhere _else_?'

Fenris stared down. 'We'll trade him.'

Erimond very subtly rolled his eyes with amusement. 'For _what_? I'm in no position to make offers on my brother's behalf.’

Danarius screamed furiously behind the gag and Cullen gripped him tighter, held him firmly in place.

'Are you saying you're not prepared to even negotiate to save your brother's life?'

'I'm saying I saw what he did to you in the pit,' Erimond stated flatly, eyebrow slanting. 'I have no belief whatsoever that you would allow him to walk away.'

'Then why not have your men just storm the place?'

The man directly to Erimond's left stepped forward, pulled his black ski mask and helmet off. 'Sir!' he called up loudly, clearly addressing Danarius. 'Are they stalling to distract us?'

Danarius, the fucker, nodded enthusiastically.

The unmasked man began ordering his men to go around the sides, to search the grounds. Panic lanced right to Cullen's heart but Fenris was quick to yank Danarius in front of him, wrenching his bad arm up, causing Danarius to scream, wordlessly, this time.

'NOBODY MOVES OR YOUR MASTER IS DEAD!' he bellowed.

And be it the sheer volume of his voice or perhaps the threat, they all froze, weapons trained upwards.

Cullen began to mentally count, praying Leliana had heard that.

_Ten_.

Anders had their gun trained down, no doubt who he was aiming at, regardless of what Jassen had warned about a leaderless Syndicate. Alistair stood behind them all, gun in hand, but not aiming at anyone.

'Hold him,' Jassen muttered to Cullen and between the two of them, they helped Fenris to hold the now violently struggling Danarius.

_Nine_.

'You're not going to damage your only—'

_Eight_.

Fenris twisted Danarius's new hand until it tore, until stitches popped and gave, until Danarius's screams made Cullen's ears ring.

_Seven_.

He threw the hand down to them where it landed with a little bounce before them.

_Six_.

'I will throw him down in _pieces_ if you fuck with me!'

_Five_.

'Everybody, _hold_ your ground!' Erimond warned.

_Four_.

Thunder rumbled distantly.

_Three_.

'Sir, he's going to kill him.'

_Two._

Erimond frowned, took a solid few steps back, even as the men asked what he wanted them to do.

A bang rent the air from behind, followed by another and another in close procession. From around the side of the house, Cullen saw a _glow_ reflected in the visors of the men who stood beneath and then a much _bigger_ bang, an explosion that sent debris rocketing upwards with nowhere to go but down again.

'Backup!' mask-less man yelled. 'They've got backup!'

Cullen and the others quickly retreated as the shooting started, bullets pinging off the protective glass but before they could fully close the doors, Danarius _launched_ himself forward gracelessly, burst out through the doors and went hurtling _over_ the side of the balcony.

Fenris stared open mouthed, but no one could rush forward and see how he'd landed. Alistair closed the doors and locked them.

'Here we go,' Jassen said, popping a piece of gum.

'We're going down,' Fenris said after the beat it took him to recover from Danarius _throwing himself_ off the balcony. 'Cullen and Alistair, stay in the middle of Jassen and Anders. We're going to get Lee. As soon as we get weapons, we'll give you some, for now, duck when you're told.'

Jassen held a small packet in his outstretched hand.

‘Gum?’

As they left the safety of the bubble, there came another more localised _bang_ followed by a huge crash from below; glass giving way to something enormous, men pouring in.

As they came to the upper landing, able to see down, six men moved inside, bright white lights on the end of their weapons.

Fenris gestured down so Cullen crouched. Anders perched his semi-automatic gun atop the railing of the banister and aimed low. Then he fired six steady shots and took each of them out neatly.

Silently, Fenris glanced at Jassen, made a hand gesture Cullen didn't recognise and the assassin went down the stairs quick and quiet, retrieved two guns before more white beams of light heralded others. He flattened himself against the wall, slinging one gun over his shoulder, using the strap the way Cullen did with his guitar and held the other with both hands, Anders covering him.

When four more men stepped into view, Jassen shot them all. One ducked out of the line of fire, wildly got a few shots in Jassen's direction, but Anders took him out swiftly.

Peering around the side towards the kitchen, Jassen made another signal. This one ended with two motions of _five_.

'Let's go,' Fenris whispered urgently. 'They could be searching for her.'

In stealth and silence they descended. At the bottom of the stairs, Jassen handed Cullen a weapon and Alistair too.

The glass at the top of the front door indicated blazing fire, removing it as an option. Cullen looked around the side to see that the glass doors leading out to the garden had been blown open and shattered. It was raining outside.

'They're waiting for us to bottleneck,' Fenris whispered, watching intently. The weapon in Cullen's hands felt heavy and clunky and he'd never been more disconnected from the belief that he was, or ever would be _safe_ again.

'How many are left?'

'It only takes one,' Anders said grimly.

Fenris eyed him. 'Flashbang?'

His friend grinned. 'Thought you'd never ask. Look away, people.'

Anders pulled something from his pocket, yanked a pin and then tossed it through the gaping hole that led out towards the ocean. Even with his eyes closed, looking away, Cullen's lids detected the peripheral brightness, the sudden burst of _white_ , followed by a jarringly loud crack, sharper than the explosions before it.

Fenris moved fast and they followed, keeping formation. In the kitchen once more, smoke from the _flashbang_ drifted inside. They ducked behind the island, Natalie’s body nearby.

Jassen peered around the side.

'Danarius isn't there,' he said quietly. 'No obvious spatter, either. He could have landed on his men.'

Fenris snarled, but they didn’t delay. They headed outside, formation intact. The men who'd been waiting for them were taken care of with five precise shots from Jassen and two from Anders. Fenris had yet to fire anything.

It felt like walking through a nightmare, seeing their beautiful garden looking like a veritable war zone. The light sheen of rain had not yet put out the flames that licked wherever they reached but the moisture in the air made everything sharply cold, made Cullen's breath catch in the back of his throat.

'Oh my God,' Alistair breathed, looking around.

There were bodies everywhere, but it was as Jassen said. None of them were Danarius, nor Erimond.

'Keep moving,' Fenris said.

Anders glanced at his friend. 'We're staying together, right?'

The thunder was closer that time, storm moving in across the seas. Fenris hesitated for what felt like the longest moment before he gave a sharp nod. 'Yes, together.'

In their formation, they moved around the side of the house, Anders and Jassen pausing to collect ammunition now and then.

At the side, leaning around to see, Cullen caught a glimpse of the carnage Leliana had wrought. Where there had been four large vehicles before, one Jeep and three pickup trucks, now there was only fiery debris and scorched craters in the pebbles.

'My explosives didn't do that,' Anders said.

'They brought their own,' Fenris suggested grimly. 'Probably planned to level the place after…'

He trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Cullen's lip curled with cold, shockingly unfamiliar rage, hands tightening on the grip of his gun. They looked around the debris strewn clearing, crunch of gravel beneath them as the rain began to intensify, but Cullen couldn't really feel it, the cold.

'She'll be in the trees there,' Fenris said, wiping wet hair from his eyes. 'Jassen, Anders, stay at the edge, cover us until we return. Fire a single shot if there's an advance.'

'They seem to have gone,' Alistair said quietly as they trudged into the woodland area, becoming gradually more shielded from the rain as they headed deeper into the beach-side forest. 'Maybe we got them all.'

'There were thirty six in total,' Fenris said leading the way and looking in all directions, cautious and careful as always except this time it wasn't to ensure only Cullen's safety from overzealous fans or potential stalkers, to keep people back with a polite arm.

It was to shoot and kill.

'By the way,' Alistair said again. 'Is anyone going to fill me in on why we're best friends with Jassen?'

'We're _not_ ,' Fenris answered, shooting Cullen a look.

' _But_ ,' Cullen said determinedly. 'He is trying to help us. He explained that a lot of—'

' _Some of.'_

_'—_ what he did was to protect us.'

Fenris shook his head. 'To protect _you_ , Cullen.'

'So, he's like a _nice_ assassin stalker?'

'He's on our side.'

'Right. Well, fair enough. And the other one, Anders, he's the, uh…'

Fenris stopped abruptly and turned. Alistair visibly flinched, clearly anticipating backlash.

'I'm sorry we didn't bring you home,' Fenris said, so heartfelt it came out rough. 'You should have been with us, Alistair. You should have been kept closer than you were and I'm so sorry you've been dragged into this.'

Even in the near pitch darkness, Cullen only able to make out the movements of his friends and little else, he could tell Alistair was shocked.

'Oh, I—I mean you don't have to apologise.' He tried to laugh it off. 'I'm often dragged into trouble, so it's OK. I know if I'd been in the country, I'd be in Lee's place with the others. That means a lot to me, to be considered a friend worth protecting.'

'You're more than…' Fenris made a small sound, a kind of frustrated huff. 'We'll talk about it later.'

'How do you know she went this way?' Cullen asked when they resumed the trudge.

'I'm tracking her.'

'It's pitch black.'

'She came this way, ran fast and straight. I think maybe—over there!'

They turned sharply left from the beaten path, heading into the foliage, following Fenris blindly through the underbrush, twigs and small branches catching and snapping, but Fenris was right, there was a small light ahead.

Leliana knelt on the ground, a gun three feet away, harsh light pointing in her direction, casting shadows on half her face and the man lying before her. She had blood on both hands, a thin spray across her chin and the man lay on his back with a knife sticking out of his chest.

Fenris crouched carefully, slowly.

'Lee,' he spoke with no trace of urgency. The way Cullen had heard them speak in bed sometimes, first thing in the morning, waking one another. 'It's us, we're here.'

Her breathing was steady but sharp. Leliana looked at Fenris, blinked a few times and then frowned.

'He saw me running from the last pickup,' she told him, voice toneless. 'He followed me. I-I-I—'

She seemed to get stuck on the word and Fenris reached out carefully to touch her hand, a simple touch, but she flinched violently.

'It's fine,' he promised her. 'You did so great and you're safe now, you're _safe_.'

'I…' she looked at him, blinking hard. 'I killed him.'

Cullen knelt beside her, shoulders of a dead man by his knees. The mulch was damp and his breath unfurled like steam, making him wish he had tea to offer her, to wrap his own cold fingers around.

'You did what you needed to,' Fenris said and when Cullen placed his hand on her shoulder, she didn't flinch that time, just turned to look at him, dull shock writ large.

'I killed someone,' she whispered to him, stunningly child-like. Cullen had no memory of Lee ever _being_ a child. From the first time they'd spoken, her entire demeanour was that of an adult forced to suffer two highly immature boys. She'd always been the grown up, the adult; forever strong, forever capable. Shock rendered her younger than Cullen had ever seen her. 'I stabbed him over and over until he was… not moving.'

With icy wet fingers, he stroked her face. 'It doesn't matter,' Cullen told her. 'All that matters is you're all right. Did he hurt you?'

Lee shook her head, returning her gaze to the man below. Her teeth were lightly chattering and she was shivering all over.

'Can you stand?' Fenris asked, interlacing their hands together, both stained with the blood of men.

'I just…' she closed her eyes hard. 'I need a minute.'

Cullen had no jacket to offer her, he realised belatedly. Nor did Fenris, not even Alistair. Jackets apparently got in the way of life or death plans.

Which made it all the more sweet when Alistair moved behind her and draped himself lightly around and over her like a blanket, his knees on either side of her hips as he knelt, hugging her.

'Whatever you need, sweetheart,' he whispered lovingly, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek as she let out a shuddering exhale. 'We're here.'

*

When she stood, it was without anyone helping her and she withdrew the knife from the body herself too, ignoring Fenris's offer to do so.

'Are you—?'

'Next person who asks me if I'm all right,' she said, attempting a wry smile and only _just_ missing the mark. 'Gets punched.'

They stopped asking, but Alistair didn't move from her side the whole way back. Fenris took anything helpful from the man who'd dared follow Leliana into the woods. He led the way back through the near total darkness, leaving the torch behind.

'Is he dead?' Lee asked. Cullen knew who she meant.

A clearing in the trees loomed. Fenris answered ominously, 'Not yet.'

'Took your sweet time,' was Jassen's greeting when they emerged from the woodland area.

'Shut the fuck _up,'_ Anders snapped, his gaze moving to Lee, scanning and assessing, lingering on her hands. 'Are you injured?'

Lee shook her head, offering him back the knife. 'Here.' Without the partial cover of trees, they were exposed to the full downpour of the storm now overhead. Each raindrop that landed on her hand washed away more of the blood there, exposing her pale skin beneath it. 'It _was_ useful, thank you.'

Anders closed her fingers around the now retracted blade. 'You keep it for now. Give it back when we're safe.'

Cullen looked around. The rain had put out the worst of the fires, though the veranda was still burning at the base, tiny spots of orange scattered here and there. Thunder rolled overhead after a brief flash of lightning. 'What do we do now?'

'They had no vehicles to flee in,' Fenris answered, swapping his gun for Jassen's without a word. 'Danarius's men would stash him away somewhere safe, most likely. Erimond, I don't know what he'd do.'

Jassen chewed his gum, shaking his head to dislodge the rivulets of rain running into his eyes. 'He'll be with Danarius.'

'Roughly fifteen remain, unknown how many scattered with no intention of coming back. Let's be generous and say five, which leaves ten, plus Danarius, plus the _unknown_ element that is Erimond, regardless of what you say, Jassen.' Fenris cocked the gun, glancing at Anders. 'What do you think?'

'I think we should leave. The possibility of them drawing us out in pursuit of him, picking us off one by one, is high.'

'We're not leaving until he's dead,' Leliana said flatly. 'This will never stop otherwise. He's on this island somewhere, within our reservation likely.'

Cullen looked at the ocean. 'What about the docks? Our boat is there, it's a good place to put him.’

Fenris nodded. 'They would want to keep him mobile if possible. It makes sense that Erimond would be there, too. All right. We’re splitting up.’

‘The exact wrong move,’ Jassen muttered.

‘We’ll form teams.’

'Shotgun not Jassen's team!' Anders blurted out just as Fenris said, 'Cullen and Lee can take the north point. Jassen, you can provide cover, keep Alistair with you. Anders with me.’

'Oh, fuck off, I'm not providing _cover_!' Jassen scowled. 'You need me by your side! Anders can protect…' he paused, eyes screwing tight with a tiny shake of his head. 'Sorry, what was your name?'

'Alistair Therein, _so_ lovely to meet you,' the man by Lee's side deadpanned. 'And I know I'm not useful in a fight, but I don't have to be protected or babied, I can _help_!'

'Yeah, if someone needs a blow job, I'm sure you'll be _very_ helpful.'

Lee caught Fenris's wrist before the punch could land and Cullen put himself between the two, shoving Jassen back.

'Don't,' he warned, undertone of meaning there that he hoped would resonate with the assassin. 'This is not—'

'I will _not_ be relegated to the side-lines, like you’re doing to the others,' Jassen hissed. 'If you're facing Danarius, I need to be there.'

'Why?' Anders asked, almost curiously.

'To make sure it's _done_! Not like I trust any of you to get your hands truly dirty. With all your _ethics_ and _morals_ about not killing people.'

Cullen said, 'Danarius doesn't count, he's not human to begin with.'

Lee took one of the guns from Anders. 'And I think we've made it clear we're willing to get our hands dirty.’

‘You shouldn’t split up,’ Jassen warned Fenris, ignoring the other two. ‘Your instincts, when pressed, are knowable to him. He’ll expect you to stash the others while you fight him head on.’

‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

Anders winced. ‘It kind of is. You’re stationing the others far away, grouping them so that they’re safe.’

Fenris seemed mildly betrayed by Anders then. ‘Having them take up positions to provide cover and keep watch isn’t—’

‘ _Necessary!_ ’ Jassen insisted. ‘Nor is it smart, not if Danarius knows what you’re going to do!’

‘He doesn’t!’ Fenris burst out. ‘He hasn’t anticipated anything we’ve done so far!’

‘Only because you followed _Cullen’s_ terrible plan, because you went with _Leliana’s_ idea, no matter how grudgingly.’

Fenris dug in. ‘You’re wrong.’

‘You fucking _idiot,’_ Jassen scathed mildly, shaking his head. ‘Does your pride really come before safety?’

‘Your objection is so noted _, killer_ ,’ Fenris said coldly. ‘But I know Danarius better than you do.’

‘Yes, exactly. He’s not in my head like he is yours.’

‘He’s not in my head _at all_.’

Lee cut in swiftly. ‘We’re wasting time. Fenris, you’re sure about this?’

Fenris and Jassen glared at one another.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’

‘Then we’ll do that, split up, but not like this. Anders can stay with me and Alistair, we’ll set up on the North bluff overlooking the docks. Take Jassen with you.’

‘What about me? I’m not standing around looking pretty,’ Cullen said. ‘Not this time.’

Fenris looked him up and down, jaw working.

‘You should stay with the others.’

‘No way.’

‘Let him come,’ Jassen said, voice taking on a more sincere quality, almost _pleading_. ‘He can help.’

Fenris stared in disbelief. ‘You want Cullen in danger, do you?’

‘There is no safety unless we finish this. Hiding him away will lead to failure.’

‘Fine,’ Fenris said after a minute, clearly displeased. ‘Fine, Cullen you’re with us. Anders, you take Lee and Alistair to the bluff, provide cover.’

‘Be safe,’ Lee said.

When they began to separate, Alistair punched Jassen right in the face; landed a good solid hit out of nowhere. The assassin stumbled back, hand on his mouth, expression hilariously indignant.

'How'd you like _that_ blow job?' Alistair uttered sweetly while Anders tried, and failed, not to laugh. 

*

' _Ow_ ,' Jassen complained, pouting as they made their way around the South curve of the beach. ‘That pun didn't even make sense and I think he cracked a tooth. Mother _fucker_.' When no one said anything, he shot Fenris a benign glance. 'That why you like him? Cos he's strong?'

'It's OK to be nervous,' Fenris told him, tone absent of inflection as they adhered to the edges of the woodlands, ocean to the left, rain utterly pouring now as a rare kind of winter storm moved over head.

Jassen bristled. 'I don't get nervous.'

'You antagonise people. It's a common coping mechanism.'

'Is that _not_ why you like him then?' Jassen pressed, ignoring what he'd said. 'You stabbed the woman years ago, didn't you?'

'Jassen,' Cullen warned quickly. 'That's enough.'

He ignored the warning, continuing in earnest. 'You want him between you and her, I get that. He _is_ actually pretty strong. He was kind to Cullen when they came looking for him that night in the club.'

Cullen really did not want to think about _that._

_'Yes,'_ Fenris answered with a tiny hint of impatience. 'I like him because he's strong and kind, but there's more to it, more to _him_.'

Jassen nodded and they came to a halt behind a bluff, the sand wet and gritty. They’d curved around through the woods, bringing them south of the docks. 'Fair enough. Hell of a right hook, I'll say.'

Fenris checked and then double checked their weapons. 'Cullen, you’ll take up position here.’

Cullen baulked. ‘What? No, wait.’

He refused to meet Cullen’s gaze. ‘This is the best vantage point of the boardwalk to the docks. I only trust you to cover me this close.’

Oh God, but he was _lying_. Cullen could tell.

‘No, I’m coming in with you.’

‘We’re going around the back, through the water. You can’t hold your breath that long.’

‘Fenris,’ Jassen started to say, but fell silent when Fenris shot him a look.

‘I can swim well,’ Cullen insisted, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the downpour. ‘And I’m not leaving you, not when—’

‘You’re useless,’ Fenris said, expression shuttered. ‘Except to provide cover. Stay here, use the bluff, watch the entrance for us. Understand?’

Few and far between were the times Cullen was furious at his best friend, but this was definitely one of them.

‘Fine,’ he said, gritting his teeth.

Fenris nodded. 'Jassen?'

'Yeah?

'If you fuck me, I'll kill you.'

'Seeing as how I'm _not_ a kick-ass, compassionate red-head, I don't know why I'd ever want to fuck you.'

'Nervous,' Fenris said, still avoiding all eye contact. 'Like I said.'

'I'm not nervous. I _may_ be somewhat tense.'

‘Only tense?’ Cullen asked, desperately trying to distract himself from the impotent anger that coursed through him, the sting of rejection from being _benched_ and told, flat out, that he was useless, even though it was true.

'Sharks like the rain,' Jassen explained blithely, turning to look out at the great, black expanse, surface a sheet of grey movement with the millions of raindrops pelting down, waves agitated. ' _And_ they hunt at night.'

'They hunt primarily at _dusk_ and _dawn_ ,' Fenris corrected irritably. 'And if a shark attacks you, why don't you just render it dumbstruck with your overwhelming snark?'

Jassen frowned. 'They hunt at night too, or was _Jaws_ all a lie?'

' _Jaws_ was all a lie,' Cullen said, sounding strangely confident even to his own ears. 'We watched a documentary.'

Fenris wasn't emotional, he wasn't distraught. 'Cullen, if you see me go down, run back to the others. Don't come back for Jassen, don't try to save me or think I'm only hurt. If I go down, it's because I'm dead.'

Cullen had no words.

'This is a good spot,' Fenris went on, taking his silence for tacit agreement. 'You'll be able to crest the bluff, shoot anyone you see coming our way. You remember what I showed you? How to change the magazine?'

‘I remember. Will your guns work after getting wet?'

Fenris nodded briskly. 'They'll work. AKs are hardy. Now, you can't be flanked here, but that doesn't mean no one can run up on you. Don't hesitate, be smart and keep yourself safe. Think of Dorian, waiting for you at home, right?'

It felt like goodbye and Cullen refused to participate. Cullen had pushed his friends away enough times to know it when he felt it. He had a dozen things he _wanted_ to say.

_Let me protect you. Let me be by your side, where I’m meant to be. Don't you dare leave me. You'd better come back. Please be careful. I love you so much._

Instead, he just nodded, mimicked the way Jassen was holding his gun and tried to think clearly. Lightning split the sky above, jolting adrenaline, briefly lighting up the entire area and rendering Cullen momentarily night-blind, the imprint of the fork floating before him when he opened his eyes. Thunder smashed directly above them, a deep rumble more closely akin to an explosion that resonated in every hollow part of Cullen.

'The storm is good,' Jassen said. 'It'll give you a lot of cover.'

Fenris slid into the strap of the gun, wore it like a backpack. 'Any questions?'

Cullen shook his head again.

'Then I'll see you soon.'

He watched Fenris walk away, melting into the darkness with Jassen by his side, headed for the water. They dove beneath the inky black surface and were gone.

The fear hit Cullen then; right in the solar plexus, it winded him, gutted him. With Fenris, everything had seemed safe, _was_ safe.

'Just you now,' he said to himself, blinking rain out of his eyes, struggling to master his fear, to push away the mental image of Fenris _going down_ , of being expected to leave him. He tried not to think of how one of the last things Fenris had said to him was that he was _useless_. 'You can do this.'

He pushed up carefully onto the ledge of the bluff, peering over the top. The docks were in sight, water crashing around the base. He couldn't see inside, the doors were closed and Fenris and Jassen would emerge from behind, but he would protect them from anyone approaching from the front.

That _word_ rang in his ears, wrongness of it all disorienting him. 

Useless. Useless. _Useless_.

He waited, gut tight, instincts askew, and tried to be strong.

*

Fenris could hold his breath for three minutes. That was his record. He'd always been pretty good at it, remembered at the local swimming pool competing with Cullen, who could never get past ninety seconds, but like so much of the _then_ and _now_ , that ability was altered and enhanced. Seal training had taught him how to use what was enhanced and control what was not.

The water was lightless and pitch, even with his eyes open. Icy brine seeped up his nose, but he let it, allowed himself to equalise, breath well contained in strong, durable lungs, despite how Jassen had cracked a rib earlier, soft retaliation for breaking his. As he swam, calculating speed and distance in the darkness, his clever body warned about injuries, the way a computer might notify for viruses.

Sprained wrist, left hand little finger broken, bullet graze on his left thigh, which was stinging, Anders' patch come loose. He vaguely hoped there _weren't_ sharks nearby, because he was definitely bleeding a bit. Other injuries were less severe; cuts, scrapes, bruises. They would all heal, so long as he didn't die.

He compensated for the tide, but it wasn't especially strong, despite prevailing winds. Beneath the surface of the ocean, he heard thunder clap from above. He thought of Cullen on the beach guarding their front, of Lee and Alistair and Anders to the north. They were his oxygen, they were his reasons to live, to come through this and _win_.

Fenris tried to ignore the guilt he felt, to reconcile that he'd purposefully set them aside, those he loved and could not lose. He tried desperately to put Cullen out of his mind, to focus on his task. Isolating them had been the right thing to do. The risk was too great.

And if he could not win, at least he could take Danarius down with him.

He surfaced, slow and cautious, ventilating deeply. He blinked stinging saltwater from his eyes and got his bearing. Jassen was nearby, closer to the docks than he was. They were approaching head on from the sea, facing inland. The back of the boathouse was slightly ajar and there was light coming from within.

Someone was inside, that much was clear.

He signalled Jassen silently to approach together. Jassen nodded and waited for him to catch up. The gun on his back felt heavy, made swimming quietly that much harder but he'd done it before.

Jassen trod water until he caught up and then they swum together, submerging once more and popping up carefully just shy of the support beams.

Fenris signed for Jassen to prepare to attack, but Jassen shook his head and signed back, _‘Confirm first.’_

Irritable, but unable to deny that it was a good idea, Fenris told him to stay put while he swam silently _beneath_ the wooden boards. His fingers traced slimy wood, ran over small, gritty barnacles as he moved himself beneath, gaze focused upward to the origin of the light. He heard voices, speaking rapid-fire, natural Russian, knowable to his multi-lingual brain.

'…considering how much I begged you not to.'

'You didn't _refuse_ to come either, so hold your tongue, you worthless little fuck-shit!'

Danarius and Erimond were arguing. There were three others, stationed around the room, feet unmoving. Danarius was pacing (cuffs somehow removed) and Erimond was sat on a storage crate.

Fenris gripped the wood, held his breath and strained to hear over the sharp slap of water and the torrential storm around them.

'You should not have provoked Jassen,' Erimond said, something almost teasing about it. 'I warned you not to threaten the singer.'

'Were I not attempting to adhere to the limitations placed upon the Syndicate _by you_ , I'd have had Fenris back years ago. You have made it impossible to move freely with your cowardice.'

'Free movement draws attention. There is nothing wrong with _caution_.'

'I would have you shot dead right now if you did not hold such _sway_ with those back home!'

'Well, I do,' Erimond said, as if reminding him. 'So calm yourself. This will all be over soon.'

Danarius paced again. 'I only hope he brings that little _cunt_ Jassen along so I can see the light leave his eyes when he dies!'

'And again,' Erimond sighed. 'I _warned_ you he was tricky. You should have left him alone.'

'You should never have let him _leave_!'

'He wanted to go freelance and he'd served us well for years. I do not care for your way of _earning submission_ so of course I let him do what he wanted. He's psychotic.'

Very carefully, Fenris dipped beneath the water, toes brushing sand, as he pulled off the gun strapped to his back. He slowed his return to the surface, staring up, tip of the gun pointed at the wood above him. He could take them out now, all of them, even Erimond. Blast fire upwards. He just needed to be _certain_ that he was directly beneath Danarius.

'Oh, your _weakness_ is an itch beneath my skin, I am ashamed to share blood with you! They are _dogs! Pets_! You do not _let_ them do anything. No wonder it all collapsed when I left!'

'I maintained the core. I made money, I paid our debts, all but the biggest two. I held onto allegiances and I slowly built us back up,' Erimond said quietly, the dialect vaguely familiar to Fenris, even outside of his time in the pit. Danarius had rarely, if ever, spoken Russian, favouring Italian on occasions when English would not suffice. It sounded like their mother tongue, the inflection and the specific dialect, not the kind learned from _Rosetta Stone_. 'I've not your flash, true. Not your imagination for cruelty, but I ensured there _was_ a Syndicate for you to return to. I made it safe for you.' He hopped down from the crate. 'Had I but known you'd return to destroy it all, I might not have bothered.'

'Once I have him back, all will be well again,' Danarius said, more subdued that time.

'You're a fool.'

'What did you—?'

'I said, you're a _fool!_ If he returns to you, it will be to tear your throat out with his teeth. You imagine loyalty where there is only hatred.'

Fenris was slowly zeroing in on the location of Danarius, following the sound of his voice, now that he was still.

'Speaking for him or yourself?'

'I am loyal to the Syndicate and you rule the Syndicate. I am the younger brother.'

With a harsh snort of laughter, Danarius resumed his pacing just as Fenris had gotten a lock on him. 'Middle child, you were always an oddity. At least Seth had the good graces to fuck off first chance he got, spoilt little brat.'

'Should I have done the same?'

'You were useful in the interim,' Danarius permitted flatly. 'That is all the _praise_ you will get from me.'

'I would not expect kindness from you. It is unlike you to ignore value, however.'

'You offer no value.'

'Which is why you're a fool. My warnings go unheeded and here we are, cowering in the boathouse of a superstar while _your wolf_ hunts us alongside your other pet gone rogue. Master of monsters, indeed.’

'Take _care_ , brother,' Danarius warned in abrupt English, breathless and almost inaudible. 'One never knows when the tide may turn.'

Fenris had him, slid his finger over the trigger, heartbeat steady.

'Sir?' one of the man said, voice recognisable as the man who'd removed his mask after a rumbling voice, laden with static became barely audible over the radio. 'Sir, we have three of them.’

That steady heartbeat tripped and faltered. 

‘Which three?’

‘The whore, the medic and a woman.’

Fenris couldn’t breathe.

‘Ah, that’s very good. Then my little wolf will be here soon, won't he?' Danarius said, walking slowly away from his brother. 'Be sure to keep the woman alive. I will use her to break him over the coming months. Kill the rest should anything happen to me. I've no patience for further games.’

Erimond asked, ‘What of the singer?’

‘He wasn’t with them. Our men are scouting still.'

Danarius paused contemplatively. 'He'll be close by, somewhere to provide cover for them as they approach from behind. Like a behemoth from the sea, he will come with righteous anger and be met with the first step of his retraining. A demonstration.'

‘What about the medic?'

'The hand is lost, I've come to terms with it. I'll make a pretty mess with their families further down the road, but for now, I wish only to take Fenris and the woman and go home. What a fucking mess this has been. I should have made a grab for the child when there was still time. You and your _standards_ , Eri. How you shame our bloodline. Despicable, really.' He turned again to his man. ‘When Fenris and Jassen come in here, we use the three to subdue him. Kill the whore as demonstration of resolve.’

‘How shall we—?’

‘Line them up outside. I warned him long ago and now that warning has come due. Seeing them killed will break him and the woman’s torment will tame him.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Fenris swam back to where Jassen was waiting, but he couldn't hear anything over the thick crush of his pulse. All Danarius's quiet confidence about the things he would do, how _easily_ he'd predicted it, no matter that Fenris had tried to subvert his expectations.

He made it to the side where Jassen was signing urgently but Fenris shook his head, bidding him hold.

'Fuck,' he breathed.

'What is it?' Jassen whispered, holding Fenris's upper arm, the pair treading water. 'What?'

Fenris shook himself and rapidly signed, ‘ _He has the others. He knew what I’d do.’_

Jassen shook his head.

_'I heard them. They're searching for Cullen now, they know he's nearby.'_

_'What now? Go back?'_

The decision warred within but Fenris knew the longer they hesitated, the more Danarius would intuit Fenris's movements. He was _already_ anticipating so much of his plan. He knew Fenris too well.

But he didn't know Jassen.

_'What would you do?'_

Jassen shook his head again. Fenris shoved him slightly, back teeth grinding impatiently, demanding an answer, his pride positively recoiling because it was _excruciating_ to ask this of Jassen, to admit when he’d been wrong.

Jassen signed slowly with wet, shaking fingers. Hypothermia could only be delayed so long. _'No hesitation. He expects hesitation. He's counting on it.'_

' _They have the others.'_

_'Don’t give him the chance. Ignore his threats when he makes them. He’ll kill them regardless unless you stop him.’_

_‘I can’t risk them.’_

_‘He knows that. Don’t hesitate. Go now.’_

Handing over control like this felt so wrong that it made his head hurt, formed a barrier of warning pressure because Fenris was a leader, he was strong and smart and he _always_ made the decisions when it came to things like this.

But Danarius knew him too well and some of those instincts, he had to acknowledge, had been _crafted_ by the man.

He should have brought them with him, kept them close. Cullen should have been with him, he felt that most keenly of all. They'd been side by side almost their whole lives and it was a mistake to part from him, from Lee and Alistair and Anders.

'All right,' he breathed and they turned towards the boathouse again, stomach churning with the sea, blood cold as ice. ‘No hesitation.’

*

Few times in Cullen's life had ever really _warned_ him about anything. He didn't have finely honed intuition, never had. He trusted blithely and saw good in everyone, rarely saw bad things coming.

But as he knelt awkwardly, blinking rain from his eyes, he knew something was wrong. He felt a physical _tug_ around his naval, a kind of ringing in his ears. He tried to ignore it because historically speaking, his instincts had not led him down good paths.

But he couldn’t stay put. It was _wrong._

He rolled down the bluff, gripping the gun and began to move towards the boathouse, narrow boardwalk leading out over the shallows. He didn’t know quite what in the fuck his plan _was_ , only that he could not sit there and wait, had to be with his friend.

When Cullen saw a burst of orange light coming from inside the boathouse and heard the tell-tale crack of gunfire, he ran full tilt. He pelted flat out through wet sand, running as fast as he could, had to get to Fenris.

Each footfall pounded against the boardwalk leading to the boathouse and then he threw his full weight, pitched at top speed, into the wooden doors.

They burst open and he fell inside, crashing painfully into a crate, gun flying from his hands and skidding straight into the water at the end of the boathouse. Cullen shook off the collision and looked around.

Danarius was slouched against the wall, hand over his face, mouth streaming blood while Fenris writhed on the ground, two men using what seemed to be cattle prods, electrocuting him as he struggled. Jassen was fighting off another, but the way he was favouring one shoulder, made Cullen think he was badly hurt. Danarius looked at Cullen, screamed muffled instructions to kill him.

And Cullen was frozen, for a moment.

_Useless._ He felt it then, even as his heart pounded hard enough to hurt. He was useless, that was why Fenris had benched him, but…

It came like _fever_ , furious, wash of heated potency through his icy cold blood, jolting his heart into a decade of delayed action.

Cullen grabbed the nearest man to him, yanked him back and punched him as hard as he could. He kicked the cattle prod out of the other man’s hand, freeing Fenris from the electrical assault. 

Their attention swivelled right onto Cullen and there came a loud splash from the end, neither Jassen nor the man he’d been fighting anywhere in sight.

Cullen felt every single time Madeline had hit him, had _hurt_ him, had come at him with a knife. He felt that old insidious pricking pain in the crook of his arm. He felt himself torn in two as his friends argued. He felt the seams of his heart pull and threaten to tear. 

He felt Dorian. He felt him always, but at that moment, he felt his pain. The pain of bruises and furtive looks and never eating enough and steam coming from under the door. Bullet through his thigh and all his bright, beautiful bravery. His smile, his eyes, his _voice_.

He felt the world outside that place, waiting for him, relying on him, _needing_ him to return.

He felt Leliana and he felt Fenris, who was on the ground, unconscious.

But Cullen was _there_. He was conscious. He was strong.

And he could fucking _do this._

He threw himself at the men, at both of them, before they could pick up their weapons. It was clumsy in the extreme, none of Jassen or Fenris's nimble brutality, none of their talent, but he was big, he'd always been _big_ and he could use that. He threw his weight and he swung his arms. He hit them, punched them, picked one up and smashed him down into the ground. He kicked away their guns when they scrambled for them and he just let his fists _fly_.

It was messy and it was _terrible_ , but Cullen couldn't stop, he just couldn't. He wouldn't let them take Fenris, not this time. He would _protect_ his friend.

Fenris was coming to and Danarius was still making all kinds of furious sounds. Cullen's knuckles were raw and bloody. He punched through the glass of one man's visor and he felt his knuckle shatter, but he didn't care.

'No, no, _no,'_ Danarius murmured, reaching for a radio on the ground. Cullen kicked the radio away, knocked it into the boat.

'Cullen,' Fenris said weakly from the floor. Cullen knelt quickly, panting harshly. He touched his friend's face, felt him all over for additional, hidden injuries, but he seemed all right, coming around more and more with every passing moment. In the meagre light from the bare bulb above, Cullen saw green eyes move over him, assessing slowly, emerging from a deep daze. 'You're OK?'

He nodded shakily. 'I'm fine.'

'Danarius?'

Cullen looked over to where the older man was sat, back against the wall, eyes wide, mouth bleeding still.

'He's there.'

Fenris said, 'Help me up.' He looked around, a tiny bit dazed. ‘You did this?'

'I did my best. Are they dead?'

Fenris shook his head, staring down at the still men. 'I don't think so. They're breathing.'

'I'm-I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' his friend said, passion belying the quiet tone. 'I'm glad. If anyone should be clean of death, it's you. Where's Jassen?'

'I think he fell in the water, or pulled the other guy in with him. He was hurt.’

‘I fucked up.’ When he was fully upright, able to let go of Cullen, Fenris spat blood. ‘I should have listened to you.’

Fenris's hair had blood in it, streaming thinly from a cut somewhere high on his head. It made his wet hair look pink. He was cut and hurt and bruised in so many places.

‘You were trying to keep us safe.’

‘How did you know I was—?’

'I couldn't leave you,’ Cullen said. ‘I couldn’t, not again.’

'I know.' His gaze moved to Danarius as if drawn there, focus forming sharply. ‘He was having men look for you.’

Cullen blanched. 'The others?'

'He has them. He threatened to kill them as soon as we got in here. Jassen and I managed to stop them from using their radios. I don't think he got a chance to give the order, but he has them. He knew what I'd do.'

Danarius was still trying to scrabble back against the wall with nowhere to go. Fenris stared at him with such hatred it surpassed recognition. Danarius's stump, torn anew, was tied poorly with a belt that had almost come completely loose, his arm still trying to prop him up the way it might have done with a hand still attached.

Cullen respected human life. He respected all that a person could be, no matter how far they wandered from a path that could reliably be called _good_. He respected the mortal coil.

So when he uttered, 'Kill him,' it was in a voice he did not recognise, sheer volume of emotion beneath it causing the tremble. The fear of Danarius somehow getting free, recuperating and returning later was far worse than anything Cullen could imagine. 'Kill him, Fenris.'

When nothing happened, Danarius, _incredibly_ , began to laugh. He barely had breath to wheeze out, could hardly stay upright, but he choked out his cruel amusement and hissed, 'He _can't_!'

A beat passed, then another.

Fenris blinked. 'Help me get him up.'

Between the two of them, they yanked Danarius up. Fenris retrieved his gun from where it had fallen atop the covered boat, along with the radio.

He pressed the _talk_ button, held it and said, ‘We have Danarius. We’re coming out. Don’t fuck with us.’

From the other end, Erimond answered, _‘I understand.’_

Together, they walked out onto the boardwalk, leading to the beach. There were lights gathering, men yelling and people on their knees.

Fenris jammed the barrel of his gun under Danarius's chin and Cullen walked the one handed man onward slowly.

He counted seven men with guns, all trained on Anders, Alistair, Lee and, when Cullen squinted, Jassen. The four were on their knees once more, kneeling in the soaked sand as waves rolled in and out nearby, the woods behind them. Alistair's right shoulder hung low, indicative of injury, but otherwise, they seemed relatively unharmed, all but Jassen, who Cullen could tell was badly hurt, more hunched over than the others.

'Release him safely,' Erimond called from behind his men. 'We can trade.'

It sounded lazy, even to Cullen.

'Kill them all _!'_ Danarius screeched breathlessly. Fenris jabbed the butt of the gun into his stomach, silencing him. Cullen held him up as he doubled over, gripped him tight.

Fenris said nothing, they took three steps closer, hovering where the wood of the boardwalk met sand. Their friends had a gun trained on them from behind, like a firing squad, the others on each end with their barrels aimed at Cullen and Fenris.

'Well? Will you trade your three for my brother?'

Fenris remained silent so Cullen said, 'There are _four_.'

Erimond chuckled. 'Jassen stays with us. Come on now, I have a thing tomorrow, or _today_ and I'm not missing it for anyone.'

Danarius gathered breath enough to scream, 'You fucking _idiot_! Kill them! Kill them _now_!'

No one moved, except Anders. He flexed his previously balled hands, gaze fixed down but in the light of the torch affixed to the gun aimed at his head, Cullen was sure he could see something glinting around Anders' thumb, a kind of _ring._ His other hand was loosely holding up one finger, _almost_ pointing at the man standing behind him.

'Calm down, brother,' Erimond bade. 'Your safety is the priority.'

Fenris took a deep breath. 'All right. We'll trade. Leave our people on the beach,' he called out over the storm. 'Send your men to take him and they can walk to the boat.'

'No! _No_ , this isn't—'

That time he smacked the gun into Danarius's mouth, a loud, wet crack audible over the thick rain and somewhere to the right, a tooth went flying.

Erimond's man-bun had come loose at some point, his long black hair in wet disarray. He glanced at the seven men. 'Yes, that makes sense,' he said slowly, lightly. 'Yes, all right.'

'But you stay behind,' Fenris added. 'You can keep two to protect you.'

'Very well. You five, go help my brother. Get him on the boat.'

The slow procession of approach began. When the men were halfway there, Fenris took hold of Cullen's free hand behind Danarius's back. He began to lead him to the left as the armed men approached to the right. Lightning flashed, briefly showing the wet and wild world in which they stood, removed from reality before darkness returned, more severe than before.

'Let him go,' Fenris urged. Cullen released Danarius and the man dropped gracelessly, uttering half formed threats all the while. Fenris gripped Cullen's hand, _pulled_ him around the side so that for every step the men took closer, they moved towards the beach, to their friends.

Four of the five men helped Danarius up and when he finally stood once more, he seemed so livid he could scarce form _words_. 'Shoot them!' he snarled. _'Execute them!'_

'Sir, they have your brother—'

'I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT MY BROTHER!'

Danarius reached for a gun, yanking it from the nearest man and before Cullen could react, Fenris neatly plucked the ring from Anders' thumb and threw it far behind them over his shoulder.

The man standing closest to Danarius _exploded_.

It was like a firework, bright red and short-lived, an eruption of meat and _force_ , but heavily localised on the man's chest. Cullen reached for Lee instinctively, moving in front of her, grasping for Alistair too. 

Everything happened very fast then.

It was a blur of gunfire, of violence. Fenris shot the men who'd been knocked back by the explosion. One of the two remaining men on the beach went to shoot Anders, but Jassen knocked his hand aside abruptly, tore the gun away and shot him at point blank range.

Danarius's brother had a gun in his hand, but he used that gun to shoot the remaining masked man before he could do anything. Erimond then gave his gun to Anders and raised his hands.

Just as Anders turned towards Fenris, another man emerged from the sea, firing wildly. The waves made him stagger, caused him to stumble and Anders quickly shot him before Fenris had the chance.

Alistair and Lee got to their feet, Cullen clutching them both protectively. Jassen grunted, one arm around his stomach. He aimed a dead man’s gun at Erimond, but not to kill him.

Anders looked over, warily eyeing Erimond.

'You vouch for him?'

Jassen grit his teeth. 'As much as I vouch for anyone.'

'I have no interest in personal bullshit,' Erimond stated clearly, hands still raised. 'Kill my brother as you see fit. The Syndicate does not concern itself with petty vengeance.'

Anders nodded distractedly, gave Jassen a look, half formed grin in place as he wiped rain from his eyes.

'You realise you saved my life?'

Jassen made a sound of deep disgust. 'Contagion,' he muttered.

Danarius was trying to crawl down the boardwalk towards the boat, he'd been standing close to the man whose chest had detonated. Fenris followed him slowly, stalked him as he tried in vain to get away. When he was almost to the boathouse, Fenris crouched down and yanked Danarius back by the foot, _toying_ with him.

The slender fingers of Leliana Mordant intertwined with Cullen's own and she led him towards the sea, to their friend and the man who'd taken him from them a decade ago. 'Stay here,' she told Alistair.

Danarius was gurgling, he was _whining._ Little fiery pieces of clothing and flesh were strewn around, some even floating in the sea like candles in a bowl. Fenris rolled him fully onto his back. As they drew near, Cullen could see that half of the older man's face was badly burnt.

'Where are you going, _master_?' Fenris asked, deadly malice making each word deceptively soft.

'I m-made _ygh_ ,' Danarius gurgled, his skin steaming, sizzling, lips all burnt and ruined, one eye bleeding steadily. Fenris knelt beside Danarius. 'Wh-what you are!'

Lee crouched by Fenris's side, one hand lightly resting on his shoulder, the other grasping Fenris's own. Cullen lowered himself to the boardwalk on the other side of the charred, bleeding man, but he reached across and touched Fenris’s shoulder, their friend solidly between them, no matter how askew.

'You weaponised me.' The rain lashed in sheets, the ocean roiled, waves crashing against the sugary sands and death was all around, in the water, in the air; acrid tang of explosives and the sharp, natural balm of ozone. Bodies in the surf and scattered around their land, failed invasion that had led to this moment. 'That will always be true.'

The older man almost choked on a desperate laugh, rain filling his mouth little by little. He stopped struggling with his one remaining hand, let it flop backwards uselessly, the stump extended, belt long gone. His laugh soured, expression crumpling. Danarius rolled his head, looking around as much as he could. He made a weak sound, sorrow beneath it.

'Let me go.'

'Let you go?' Fenris mirrored artfully, calmly.

'P-prison. I can… be useful.'

'You could be useful.'

Danarius slowly nodded. 'Tell you…' he wheezed. 'About your family.'

'You could,' Fenris agreed. 'You have value. You could do a lot, maybe you could even do some good.'

There was a moment, Cullen could tell, when Danarius actually believed it, that there was a _chance_. None of his injuries seemed truly life threatening, more incapacitating. He _believed_ there was actually a chance that Fenris would let him live.

And Cullen realised that _that_ … was what Fenris had been waiting for. For Danarius to _hope_. He felt his friend's shoulder tense beneath his palm, hand untangling from Lee's and there was something metal in it, something that shone when lightning flashed overhead and Cullen knew what Lee had given him.

'I could let you live.'

'Yes, I'll be so—!'

'But that would be mercy.'

Danarius gasped, throat catching on the panic as his hope disintegrated, as it shattered and _tore_. 'No! P-please!'

Fenris lifted his hand, clever blade of the knife extending with a click. 'Mercy is _weakness.'_

Danarius shook his head, vain struggles of a creature destined to die.

'I loved you, I _always_ —'

Fenris brought the knife down like lightning itself, like a Godly hammer bound to rent the earth. He plunged the knife into Danarius's heart in a great, gruesome blow that had bones cracking, blood squelching and Danarius's mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes wide, body taut. Fenris’s hand went almost all the way through his chest, knife carving the path, blood up to his wrist.

Danarius struggled weakly, agony in every part of him until finally, he went lax.

Only then did Fenris withdraw his hand, gripping the knife tightly.

'And weakness,' he told the dead man, breath behind it shaking only slightly. 'Is _despicable_.'

*

They stayed there for longer than she would have liked, but Leliana was nothing if not patient. She respected the moment, sensible of the gravity, and however long it took for Fenris to be ready to depart, that was how long they would wait.

When he started to shake beneath her and Cullen's touch, she pressed a kiss to his temple, to his wet, blood strewn hair.

'We're here,' she murmured. 'We love you so much.'

He didn't cry for long and it wasn't quite _crying_ to begin with. A complex manifestation of grief that came in dry, tight paroxysms. More than his body knew how to cope with, but that was fine because they were there, they were _together_ and together, they could endure anything.

'Thank you,' he uttered. There was a certain _way_ he spoke when it was both of them and Lee recognised it instantly. She also knew he was thanking them for more than simply being by his side when he'd killed the man who haunted his waking nightmares, who had _taken_ him and changed him.

In killing Danarius, he had proved him to be just a man. A man who'd overpowered him, who'd violated him, controlled him, altered him. Fenris had to accept that it had been a human who'd done this. Not some monster, not some mythical creature or God made flesh.

Just a man who was dead now.

But a man he had _killed_ , by his own hand.

He wiped his nose and exhaled. 'Let's go.'

They both helped him to stand, not because Fenris needed it, but because they _wanted_ to touch him, to ground him. There was a little wobble when he was upright, likely he'd stood up too fast, but Cullen braced him easily and carefully.

Lee felt like she was going to cry, but resolved not to. There was work, always _more work_ , yet to be done. Fenris leaned on Cullen as they rose from the boardwalk and then he turned into him fully, hiding his face, arms about one another, letting Cullen shield him from the world for a moment, all the while holding Lee's hand, maintaining their connection.

She felt the beat of that connection, three hearts with a single vein running through each, forged in loss, strengthened by love.

Leliana looked down at Danarius, at his mutilated body and saw how hard he'd clung to life, to an existence he had not deserved. She wedged her boot beneath his shoulder and kicked as hard as she could, rolling him into the water.

The splash drew Fenris's attention, but he didn't object. Danarius bobbed, face down in the waters alongside the boardwalk, the swell retreating now.

The tide would take him, she hoped.

They made their way back to the beach, to where Jassen was holding Erimond guard and Anders was helping Alistair with his shoulder, which had become dislocated when men had swooped down upon them from their vantage point. Alistair had fallen, landed badly.

'Take a deep breath,' Anders said, holding his upper arm and shoulder very tightly. 'On three, you ready?'

‘Are you really going to count because people in movies— _AGH_!'

A sick _pop_ had Alistair's whole body jolting in pain. Anders rubbed his upper arm, smiled kindly. ‘All better.’

‘It doesn’t _feel_ all better!’

‘Hey,’ Jassen called out through gritted teeth. ‘Maybe I could get some god damned mother fucking TLC over here, what with the _gunshot wound_ and everything!’

‘Are you requesting my chemical cleverness, or do you simply want my healing hands all over you?’ Anders teased, nonetheless moving to Jassen with intent. ‘Let me see it.’

Erimond noticed their approach first. ‘My brother is dead?’

It took Fenris a few seconds to understand the question. 'Yes. He's dead.'

'Well, that's good,' Erimond said, nodding to himself. 'Finally.'

‘Anyone hurt?’ Anders called out, now kneeling in front of Jassen who seemed in too much pain to make a remark about it.

‘No,’ Lee said. ‘We’re OK.’

‘Just _me_!’ Jassen snapped.

Alistair hurried over to the three of them.

'Are you all right?' he asked Fenris in a hushed whisper, fingertips brushing back his damp hair, gaze roaming his face in the gloom, the only source of light emanating from the torches atop the two remaining guns.

Cullen squeezed Fenris in a hug, kissed his cheek, whispering something that was lost over the white noise of the rain, but Fenris turned towards him, holding him in reply. Cullen then let go and went to Jassen and Anders, speaking quietly to both, asking if communications were still jammed.

'You're _hurt_ ,' Alistair said, brow creasing with deep concern. 'Your head is bleeding.'

'I'm all right.' It was stripped and honest, bare bones of a truth that had eluded him for so long. Fenris's hands encircled Alistair's wrists, loose grip and they were so close, close enough to kiss again. The skies poured down and the storm rattled their bones. 'I'm safe.'

The meaning of it was not lost on Lee. Two words that meant more than bystanders could comprehend. Not that _Fenris_ was safe but perhaps, just maybe with time, he himself could _be_ safe.

Leliana slipped her fingers around Alistair's neck, up into his soaking hair and she held them both as they kissed. As Alistair leaned in, gently tipping Fenris up to meet his waiting caress as if a kiss could make everything better. Fenris leaned in, lips grazing and he gripped the material of Alistair's sopping shirt, wrenching him closer, contrast to how softly they kissed.

'I love you,' Fenris breathed and it was wet and cold and hellish; it was a scene from _Dante_ , with bloodied sand and a nigh biblical storm overhead. Fenris had always loved when Lee read _Dante_ to them, Cullen's favourite was _Lovecraft_. Lee just loved having them listen, having them close.

Almost as close as when Alistair broke the kiss and lovingly ensnared her, brought her easily into their new intimacy with an ease that made her heart light, painted the gruesome scene with all the best feelings in the world because this was the birthplace of their journey moving forward. This was her favourite place in the world and always would be, no matter the death, the blood on her hands, now washed away by rain.

Alistair kissed her once and then Fenris pulled her in, pulled them flush and kissed all her breath away. And it went so far beyond _love_ that it made her want to _laugh,_ but she was sensible of the gravity, she always had been and no matter how light those boys made her, she was their anchor, at least until _later._

'I love you so fucking much,' Fenris breathed into her, one hand around her waist, the other tangled up in Alistair. 'I love you both.'

It was blood and breath, hearts and _hurt_. It was the way Alistair wrapped around her from behind while Fenris kissed her the way she'd loved ever since they were little more than children, playing the roles of adults until one very abrupt day, they _were_ the adults.

It was the safest she had ever felt.

'We love you too,' Alistair said while they kissed.

_'I've loved you always, my heart,'_ she spoke in French, lost in the nostalgia of all their times in bed as teenagers, of him learning little phrases and words to make her smile. His efforts had been clumsy then, his attempts to mirror her were often incorrectly phrased or pronounced, but she had loved him for it and she loved him then, in the rain, beneath the storm, blood of the man who had wronged them, who had splintered their path somewhere dark and despair-wrought, still fresh on his wrist.

Lips still touching, if no longer kissing, he rubbed his nose over hers and rumbled, in perfect iteration of her mother tongue, 'Forgive me, my love?'

He asked like she had not already forgiven him for his distance, for the high crime of loving her from afar. She forgave everything, everyone in the world who had ever wronged her, even her mother, because for one shining moment, all was right.

'Nothing to forgive, but what I can, I do.'

They kissed again, searing point of contact that sought to seal shut her wounds. He tasted like he always had, he _kissed_ like always, except for the rough, desperate edge. His desire threatened to unmoor him and it _was_ all blood and breath, hearts and hurts, but it was them too. It was _them_.

Her love, her boy, her Fenris, _her_ wolf. Hers from the first time they kissed at thirteen, hers from that night when she'd found him watching Cullen sleep after he’d lost his parents and Mia. Hers from all the hours spent helping him learn to read, to catch up with others in his year, too ashamed to even ask Cullen for help with such a basic thing.

Hers when they gave one another their virginity, not really knowing what it was they were _doing,_ but knowing it had to be done together.

Hers from that very first fucking day; stubborn, chubby blond boy insisting they sit together, sharing his lunch with a boy whose gaze could cut glass, knowing too much to trust freely the way Cullen did. She had thought then, watching them both that they were like the sun and the moon, contrasted in almost every way, and yet friends, offering friendship to her that, for the first time in her life, she accepted.

Fenris had been hers from that first day, so had Cullen and she theirs in turn, but love grew in all directions; sometimes twisting to seek the sun, sometimes night blooming in search of the silvery moon.

Now, Fenris was _hers_ as he had been then. Wholly, fully. No missing time, no piece trapped with another. Reconciling that pain, that knowledge, it would not be quick, but Leliana Mordant was nothing if not patient.

Even if that _patience_ was sorely tested then because all she wanted was to take them both and _tangle_. Knot them all together in the shape she had half crafted, half watched form naturally, bound by love, built upon trust, bewitching and beautiful, her boys, her pack.

She cast a glance towards the ocean when they broke to breathe. The body of Rebstein Danarius was nowhere to be seen, cast adrift or perhaps tugged beneath by the creatures who came calling when blood co-mingled with saltwater. Gone, either way and that was all that mattered.

'We should move on,' she said reluctantly when he kissed her once more, firm and parting with the promise of _later._

How she wanted it to be later.

'You're right,' he said, moving away, untangling them slowly.

Leliana smiled, kissing them both once more. 'I usually am.'

*

'Jealous, _terrorist_?' Jassen snickered, even while Anders wrapped strips of sopping wet cloth around his waist. 

'Fuck off, _killer_ ,' Anders replied, focus on the wound, despite his tone.

Cullen wasn't looking behind him at the intimate scene no doubt being painted by his friends, not least for purposes of privacy, but he knew what they were doing.

Erimond glanced over Cullen's shoulder, their conversation about how Sophia and Madeline were most _definitely_ not involved in this, coming to a halt.

'Huh,' he said, eyebrows lifting. 'They look warm.'

With adrenaline no longer required for survival, it was starting to seep away. Without it, Cullen could feel how _absolutely fucking freezing_ it was on that beach. He could feel pain in his hand that indicated something was broken, a horrible, jarring agony of _wrongness_ radiating down his inner wrist.

So he wholeheartedly agreed with Erimond when he looked back, saw his best friends and his dear friend all wrapped up together in what might have been scandalous to others, but was god damned _sweet_ to Cullen. Happiness took the edge off the worst of his injuries, but the cold was now a pressing issue.

Fenris kissed both their hands before he joined them, features arranging themselves neutrally, in control once more.

'Let's get to the villa,' he said. The rain showed no sign of easing, even though the storm had moved past them, headed elsewhere. ‘Jassen, you can walk?’

Cullen moved forward. ‘I can—’

‘If you offer to carry him, I will die laughing,’ Anders grinned, Jassen’s blood on his fingers.

‘I’m fine,’ Jassen scowled, but his teeth weren’t grit together anymore at least.

‘Lean on me,’ Cullen offered instead, ignoring when Anders musically hummed, ‘ _When you’re not strong,’_ after them.

The fires were almost entirely out by the time the villa came into view, smoke wafting thinly from the garden area. Alistair opened the front door, two seconds and his thumbprint granting entry that alerted no one. All they needed was to get _home_.

Home to Dorian, to Rosalie and Sophia and all those they loved.

Anders went right for a more comprehensive first aid kit, Jassen sat himself down heavily at the breakfast bar and Lee put the kettle on. Erimond hovered nearby, toed the dead body of Natalie.

‘Shall I just take her outside?’ he offered, thumbing over his shoulder to where the patio doors were blasted open, where the now faded winds of a passing storm rustled in and out.

There were bodies everywhere, Cullen realised.

‘If you want,’ Fenris said and then looked around, adding. ‘I’ll help you.’

Alistair, bless his _cotton fucking socks_ , joined them in the kitchen with an armful of clean, fluffy towels. Anders began sewing real live stitches into Jassen’s side, muttering, ‘You’re one lucky son of a bitch, you know that, Emory?’

Fenris and Erimond pulled the bodies out by the arms, put them outside and returned. Fenris washed his hands, Erimond did not.

Lee wrapped a towel around her shoulders, fixed Erimond with a stare. ‘Are there more coming?’

'I want nothing more to do with this mess,' Erimond said, accepting a towel with a nod, going right for his hair. 'And I've never had a problem with any of you. All the men here, they were Rebstein's most loyal. The others will fall into line.'

Anders sniffed. 'When _you_ tell them to, right?'

Jassen stepped in smoothly, even as Anders sewed him up. 'He's head of the Syndicate now, so yes. What he says goes.'

Erimond looked at Jassen. 'Will you come home?'

It was a simple question, but it seemed to give Jassen trouble for a beat or two. ‘I’m not sure,' he said at length, tiny frown that made Cullen irrationally pleased. Doubt was good, _questioning_ was good and he didn't like what Jassen considered to be _home_.

'Well, regardless,' Erimond said briskly. 'This vendetta ended with my brother. His obsession was not mine. In addition to calling off all and any attention focused on you and yours,' he told Fenris. 'I want you to know that I owe you a single debt. You may call upon it whenever and if in my power to do so, I will honour it.'

'Do you intend to re-open the pits?' Anders asked, not looking away from his task of sewing Jassen’s wound closed, now focused on the back. 

'No. Again, that was my brother's scheme, not mine. They were at best, an unnecessary source of income and a reputational boost which served to make us a target. The Syndicate must continue to operate from the shadows.'

'Doing what?'

Erimond neatly swerved. 'Does anyone have a hair band?'

Leaning near the oven, Leliana was going through her phone with an intense frown. 'Junk drawer behind you,' she said distractedly. Cullen went to her, Fenris too.

'Are we still jammed?'

'I don't think so, but we might have lost some messages while we were. Everyone at my place has checked in repeatedly, they're all fine. Anders!' she called out. 'Is this the number of your security guy, Stroud? The one on Sophia's detail?’

Anders glanced over, pulling the needle and thread through Jassen’s blood, torn skin. ‘Ends in 937?’

‘Yes.’

‘I gave them your temporary number to copy in on all updates, what’s it say?’

‘It says Madeline has left.’

‘What?’ Cullen pulled the phone closer, wincing at the sudden agony caused by using his right hand. _'Ahh_! She left?How can she… how can she just walk away from protective custody?'

'Let me call them,' Anders said, tying off the thread and unwrapping a fresh gauze pad. ‘One second.’ He patched Jassen up and pushed a pack of painkillers towards him, striding forward. Lee handed the phone over and Jassen popped seven pills.

Anders walked a small distance away, phone to his ear, waiting. 'Stroud, where are they?'

Cullen listened intently, heart straining desperately. How could Madeline _leave_ where she was safest? Fucking hell. The others stood close by while Anders listened to the other end.

'Right, OK. You're sure? Christ alive, what a—' he threw a halting look in Cullen's direction. 'Difficult woman,' he went with, tactfully. 'Yeah, I copy. No, I appreciate it. She's doing OK? Aww, all right then. We'll be home in a few hours. Yeah, as well as can be. When she wakes up, tell her she'll see her Daddy soon.'

Anders hung up and turned back, obviously about to deal bad news.

'The _good_ news,' he led with, tone bracing. 'Is that Sophia is still with Stroud and the others, happily asleep in the cottage, currently curled up with Sir Pounce. The bad news is—'

' _Madeline_ ,' Lee filled in grimly. 'She has been right from the start.'

Anders nodded. 'She walked out a few hours ago. Before you ask, there is nothing we can do to actually _keep_ her there and if I may say so,' he added in a lower voice. 'Madeline is… unpleasant in the extreme. Stroud said he and the others were just grateful she left Sophia there. Your daughter is completely safe,' he promised.

'Where did Madeline go?'

'All told, she went looking for you. Stroud said he feels partially responsible because he didn't tell her where you were, only that she had to stay put.' Cullen could only imagine how difficult she'd been to deal with. 'Eventually she lost it and stormed off, removed her tracker and left her phone too.'

Cullen shook his head. 'For fuck's sake.'

'Stroud didn't want to divert resources from Sophia to follow Madeline, but he traced her via CCTV as far as London. She probably went to a friend's house or something.'

'If she was looking for you,' Fenris said, glancing at Cullen. 'Makes sense she'd go to your place.'

'Is there any message from Dorian?'

'No, but that's probably a good thing, at this stage.'

'Stroud's been monitoring things from his end, said Dorian's phone is still inside the loft.'

'That's good. OK, well. Madeline's gone walkabout but that's not the worst thing in the world. At least Sophia's safe.'

Fenris cleared his throat, brow lifting neutrally. 'You might want to have a talk with Jassen at some point about Madeline.'

'What about Madeline?' Cullen asked, looking at the man who'd been thus far very quiet. All patched up and full of pain killers, he was now making himself a _sandwich_ , or by the looks of it, a fucking snack platter.

Jassen realised everyone was looking at him. 'They're to share,' he pointed out defensively, buttering bread. 'Sandwiches are the best.'

'What _about_ Madeline?' Cullen repeated.

Jassen gave Fenris a mildly disapproving look, expertly layering ham. 'Probably about how I'm going to kill her.'

Cullen gaped. 'That's— _no!'_

'Not Sophia,' he said soothingly. 'I was going to wait until I could adopt her and _then_ kill Madeline, hand the kid over to you. She's a pretty nice kid, actually. I mean,' he snorted. 'Obviously, she's nice, it's in your DNA.'

Cullen didn't know which part of that sentence to pick apart first, but he started with the basics. ' _No,_ you're not killing Madeline.'

Jassen scoffed, cutting the sandwiches into triangle halves. 'Why, you'd miss her, would you?'

'Jassen—'

'I _saw_ what she tried to do to you!' he burst out, slamming the knife down atop the marble with a metallic _bang_ , wincing when the sudden movement caused his side obvious pain. 'I watched her try and…' Jassen closed his mouth, biting his lips into his mouth as if he couldn’t even say it. 'I would be hard pressed to find another person walking the planet who's hurt you as much as she has.'

Erimond took this moment to pipe up with, 'If you're killing this woman, could you get around to killing Seth at some point?'

Jassen rolled his eyes like a kid being asked to clean his room and pushed what was undeniably a _snack platter_ towards everyone, standing alone on the other side of the island. ' _Yes_ , once I get a minute going spare. Bloody hell.'

'Just, y'know, if you were _already_ killing, I thought—'

'Yeah it's fine. I get it.'

Fenris stared seriously at Jassen. 'Are you talking about Seth _Darius_?'

Erimond smirked in the gloom, having found a hair band and now pulling his hair back into its intended place. 'Seth put _such_ effort into altering our last name, didn't he? Pig headed little shit. He's an embarrassment I no longer feel compelled to tolerate.' He glanced at Jassen in an almost friendly manner. 'If you've the time, of course.'

Jassen sighed, put upon in the extreme. 'My services are so in demand.'

'No, they are _not_ ,' Cullen said firmly, seeking solid ground once more. 'Jassen, I forbid you from killing Madeline.'

The assassin snorted into his sandwich. 'Oh, OK, then. That's me put in my place.'

' _Jassen!'_ he warned.

_'Cullen!'_ he mocked.

They stared at each other. For the first time since knowing Jassen, even in guise, the man stared back with a clear and present challenge. Cullen saw it there in his dark eyes, in the way he stood.

The threat to Cullen was, for the most part, entirely gone now. Jassen's purpose had… well, _ended_ , hadn't it? And Cullen thought of what he'd said on the beach, of how rigid he'd been, how _afraid_ , almost.

'As your _friend_ ,' Cullen spoke slowly and clearly, ignoring the swivelling gazes of the others. 'I am _asking_ you not to do this. I know why you want to and believe me, there isn't much I could say to defend her right to existence, except that she's Sophia's mother.'

'You're her father, you'll take better care of her.'

'I'm technically _not_ her father,' Cullen forced himself to say. 'And if anything happens to Madeline, I'm not certain about—'

'Yes, you are,' Jassen said, frowning suddenly. 'You're her father.'

'I know that and no one could love her more as a daughter, but—'

'No, not in a wishy washy, _found family_ kind of way,' Jassen said, now giving Cullen a look - again, for the first time - that made plain he thought Cullen was very stupid. 'You're her biological father.'

'I'm not. Madeline told me.'

Jassen rubbed his eyes. ' _Cullen_ ,' he said sternly. 'Sophia is your daughter, biologically, spiritually and whatever else the fuck you consider to be real. Madeline has paternity tests. I did my _own_ tests, wanting to be very sure before I murdered Madeline that this precise thing wasn't going to _happen_. How can you not see it?'

Something very strange and possibly fatal was happening in Cullen's chest. 'She wasn't with me when she got pregnant.'

Erimond helped himself to a sandwich. 'Good people are so dumb,' he observed pleasantly and Jassen nodded in helpless agreement.

'Are you being serious?' Fenris asked with a definite hint of threat.

'No,' Jassen said, dripping sarcasm. 'I'm making it all up so I can break his fucking heart, of _course_ I'm serious. Jesus, did none of you ever think to demand a test? You could have done one sneakily, even. They're effective with saliva.'

'When did you do this test?'

'Uh,' he said, thinking. 'The week before you fired this lot.'

'Around the time Madeline filed the restraining order?'

'Yup.'

The strange and possibly fatal thing in Cullen's chest, which he did not dare label _hope,_ gave a sudden surge. 'She knew,' he said. 'She knew you did the test.'

'Yeah,' Jassen said, nudging the tray towards Fenris emphatically. 'I think she clocked something wasn't right about me then, especially after I yelled at her.'

Fenris grudgingly took a sandwich. 'She knows you did the test?'

'She's done tests of her own, DNA ancestry and all that shit. Bitch is manipulative, though, might have forged it, for all I knew. I wanted to be sure.'

'That's what she was cagey about,' Lee said. 'That night at my place. She _knew_ Jassen knew. God, that's probably why she offered to sign joint custody. She thought he'd tell Cullen.'

'I didn't know that you were genuinely unaware,' Jassen pointed out, sitting back down now he’d made his snacks. Anders took one after a few beats spent choosing. 'I mean, she says awful things to you, but that's just how she is. I would have told you sooner.'

Cullen permitted himself a single moment of selfish introspection, not fully trusting Jassen but allowing himself to imagine how it would be, were she his by blood, biologically _his_. Inherently his daughter with his DNA, made from _him_. He found that there was little change in the way he loved her, because he already loved her beyond words, she'd been his baby from the moment she drew breath. Instead what he felt was something like _relief_ that legally, he might be on more solid ground, should Madeline devolve again in the future. It was a tenuous step towards something like certainty and belief in the idea that he could really, truly never be parted from his baby ever again.

Erimond sighed sadly. 'I'm never going to make my thing.'

Cullen shook himself. 'No, no, we're uh. We're going. We should—yeah, let's go.'

Fenris's hand touched his own. 'You're sure?'

'Yeah, let's get to the plane. We can discuss…' he gestured weirdly, wincing again when his right hand made it very clear that something was _not good_. 'Whatever else, in the air.’

'All right. I’ll go get the car.'

Cullen was still a little dizzy, but nodded _mostly_ in a normal way. His head was spinning, heart hurting because… if this was true _(if)_ then Madeline had been even more cruel to him than he'd realised. Keeping him parted from Sophia _illegally_ , holding it against him, his apparent failure to procreate even though there had been that one time, the abortion. All the spiteful remarks, and God, coming to him when she was pregnant and telling him emphatically it wasn't his. Why?

_Why?_

'Hey,' Lee was saying, rubbing his back. 'Why don't you sit down?'

He braced himself against the countertop, cool marble helping in every way except when he moved his thumb. 'I'm OK.'

Anders leaned over. 'I think maybe you've fractured your thumb,' he pointed out. 'I can have a closer look on the plane, given that we won't need to be crammed into storage, right?'

'No need going back,' Lee confirmed. 'I'll call the pilot, tell him to meet us there.'

Alistair took over flawlessly, rubbing Cullen's back in wordless comfort. Cullen looked up, meeting Jassen's waiting gaze.

'You're not lying?'

'I'm not lying.'

Cullen glanced at Anders, who nodded once and then returned his focus to cleaning a small cut on Alistair's cheek.

In a helplessly vulnerable whisper, Cullen uttered, 'She's mine?'

'She's yours,' Jassen promised.

'Then don't kill Madeline,' Cullen said after a beat. 'If she's really… biologically mine, then I can fight Madeline better, if she ever tries anything again.'

Jassen scowled. 'Which she _will_.'

'Killing her is not _necessary_ ,' Cullen said, trying to speak the language of people who casually killed. 'And I don't want you to. I would be upset with you if you did.' He took a deep breath. 'You wouldn't be my friend if you did.'

The scowl had morphed into something genuinely angry.

'I'm not your friend at _all_!'

'You just made snacks in my fucking kitchen, you're my friend!' Cullen snapped irritably, not least of all because as his body returned to normal temperatures again, the pain in his hand became nigh unbearable; horrible, hot throbbing sensation that jarred his rational mind. 'And I'm your friend too, so please, as my _friend_ , do not kill Madeline Hawke.'

He'd never seen Jassen so angry. Erimond had taken a couple of respectful steps back, after nabbing a few sandwiches. But eventually, the man with the dark eyes exhaled shakily, jaw clenched. 

_'Fine_ ,' he ground out. 'I won't kill—'

'Or maim,' Anders added helpfully.

'Or harm,' Alistair put in.

Jassen seemed disgusted. 'I won't kill, maim, nor _harm_ Madeline fucking Hawke. Happy now?'

'Yes,' Cullen answered. 'Because now we can keep being friends.'

'How is that going to work?' Erimond asked. 'I don't mean to be facetious, simply that Jassen is the face of this whole thing, the _Bad Guy_ , the one they'll be chasing. You might be hard pressed to hang out together at Central Perk.'

'That's all right,' Jassen said swiftly, something rather cutting about it. 'Not like I’ll be asked to dinner or anything, is it?’

He left the room, headed upstairs and Cullen stayed in the kitchen with Anders, Alistair and motherfucking _Erimond Danarius -_ who was on his fourth sandwich - feeling that somehow he'd done something to _upset_ Jassen.

'He's fucking mental,' Alistair muttered seriously. 'I hope he goes his own way soon, no offence, Cullen.'

Cullen had not words to parse anything that had been said in the last five minutes, but because he loved Alistair, he managed a non-committal noise and a nod.

'Yeah,' Anders agreed wholeheartedly, applying salve with a cotton wool ball. 'He's an absolute prick, totally vile. Does anyone, like, have his number, though?'

*

It was extremely cramped in the car drive to the airport. Jassen had volunteered to get in the _boot_ and Erimond had also cheerfully agreed to squash himself in there too, so they took the cover off the boot of an already small car and Jassen and Erimond knelt in the back. Lee drove the _stolen_ car with Cullen up front, Alistair, Fenris and Anders squeezed in the back seats.

An awkward silence permeated the drive, broken only by Alistair's attempts at polite conversation and Jassen's occasional snarky commentary. Cullen was so tired that it took everything he had not to fall asleep in the safe, warm, moving vehicle but he'd definitely failed at some point because one minute he was looking at mountains and the next, he blinked and felt the car rolling to a halt.

'The pilot is inside the plane,' Lee told him, one hand on his shoulder. He shook himself and looked at her, let himself feel rooted by her warm, steady gaze. 'Come on, love. Let's go home.'

*

On the journey home, Cullen found that he wasn't anywhere near as nervous about flying. He hadn't even remembered he was _supposed_ to be terrified until Fenris had asked him if he was OK.

Anders bandaged and splinted his wrist and thumb as best he could with what sorely limited supplies he had but told Cullen, in the clear light of their small, private plain, that his thumb was indeed likely fractured. Cullen knew later he would worry about the injury more, about his ability to play, but for now, he accepted three painkillers and agreed not to move it more than necessary.

'So,' Fenris said after half an hour of intense, quiet discussion. Anders had stitched the cut on his head, cleaned him up best he could but Fenris was still covered in blood; there was only so much a wet wipe could do. 'This is what's going to happen. We stick with the Jassen story.'

Erimond nodded approvingly. 'For which I am also grateful.'

Lee and Fenris gave Erimond near identical looks of well concealed dislike, but Cullen understood. To ever have any semblance of a normal life again, they needed to cling to the simplest story which was, ironically enough, Jassen being the bad guy.

That didn't mean Cullen had to like it.

'I'll lead them on a merry old chase,' Jassen said, peering out the windows with interest, a gleam of murky red in the sky that Cullen thought might herald the dawn. 'Ramp up the attention and then fake my death somewhere down the line. Draw them away from the Syndicate.'

Anders wasn't happy. 'Danarius _deserves_ to be rightfully judged, even in death. Motherfucker got off lightly.'

'This is the best way,' Fenris reminded him sternly, a tiny glance in Erimond's direction. Anders capitulated.

They talked more about the procedure, about what it would mean, _going home_. Lee would use her contacts, Celine and Briala, to bend as much of the law in their favour as she could, relying on their departments being entirely separate from Samson's.

Samson _plagued_ Cullen's subconscious as they flew back. The idea of letting Erimond return to his _Syndicate_ gave Cullen worryingly little trouble, not least because this thing, the so called _Syndicate_ was unknowable to him. It was a dark, shady question mark and things were tenuous enough, even with Jassen's assurances.

DCI Raleigh Samson on the other hand, the idea of his continued freedom made Cullen sick to his stomach.

But he was hardly the only one swallowing their feelings just then and they had to prioritise.

'When we land, I should be able to get into the systems for a final facial recognition block,' Anders said. 'But they'll be wise to it by now, so it won't last long. Half an hour maybe.'

'Enough time for us to get home and start the process our way,' Lee said with a grateful, genuine little smile. 'Thank you, Anders. For everything. Here.'

She handed him the knife, reaching across the facing seats. Cullen could tell Anders was debating with the idea of just letting her have it, but after a beat he took it, smiling in return.

'You're very welcome.'

'And for everything you did before,' Cullen added earnestly. 'I know I was a dick about the bomb, but it saved us, gave us the time we needed.'

Alistair looked between them. 'There were _more_ bombs?'

'A big one,' Anders smirked. 'And again, you're welcome. It was good to settle a few debts.'

Fenris said, without looking at him, 'There is no debt between us, my friend. All is even once more, I assure you.'

He sounded so formal, hint of that accent coming into play as it sometimes did. Anders took it different to how Cullen might have, seemed pleased, heartened by it, even.

'Well, that's nice,' Anders said, stowing the now retracted blade in his snakeskin boot. 'Christ, I can't wait to shower.'

In the silence that followed, he looked over at Jassen, who sat mostly alone by the window.

'I said,' he repeated. 'I can't wait to shower. Where's your lewd comment for that one, killer?'

Jassen said nothing, performed only the tiniest of shrugs.

Anders rolled his eyes, they fluttered upon hitting vertical.

'All right, well I'm happy to be the bigger man, in _every_ sense of the word, and say thank you _Jassen_ for all you did. Including when you, uh.' Anders scratched his nose awkwardly. 'Saved me earlier. That was _also_ very nice. Very _non_ killer-y.'

'Uh huh.'

'Is he sulking? Are you sulking?'

'I'm brooding, there's a difference.'

Fenris nodded sagely.

'Can we get back to the part where Seth Darius, as in Harry's _boyfriend_ , is your brother?' Alistair asked Erimond.

Erimond started talking and Cullen felt a deep and almost irresistible need to go over there, to Jassen. Sit beside him and let the engine noises and chatter cover a conversation where he thanked him, where he apologised (even though that was frankly mental) for denying him the freedom to kill Madeline. He wanted to go to him and ask why he was sad, make sure he wasn't too badly hurt.

But his legs were leaden and his body had very firmly decided that it wasn't moving until absolutely necessary.

So Cullen stayed put, listened to tales of how selfish and displeasing Seth was, how he'd always been an embarrassment with his "petty rapes" as Erimond blandly put it. How he'd turned to rock music at a young age as the ultimate _fuck you_ to Erimond and Rebstein, making a rather tragic anagram of their last name to use going forward.

Erimond looked over at Jassen when he was halfway through and said, 'Just remember, if you get the chance, yeah?'

Jassen looked back, entirely false smile in place. 'Of course.'

Erimond grinned, not put off by the fake smile. 'You should come home. Once they think you're dead, come back to me. We always worked well together.'

'We did,' Jassen allowed, but his heart wasn't in it and Cullen kind of hated that he could _tell_. 'But I'm unsure for now.'

'Well, you know where I'll be.'

'I do.'

They began to land an hour later and Erimond looked out of the window at the first rays of grey, cold dawn and grinned widely.

'I might make my thing after all!'

*

Lee had cars waiting to take them where they needed to go, stealthy cars with plates that couldn't be tracked and for the time being, their faces were undetectable.

Cullen wasn't ashamed to say that no matter how much they'd explained it to him on the plane, the plan going forward in great detail, not much of it had sunk in. When Lee looked at him like he'd lost his mind, he tried to shake himself and went with a solid, reliable, 'Huh?'

She held her patience well. 'I _said_ , are you sure you don't want us to send for Dorian and bring him to mine with the others?'

'Oh, no. I want to go home,' he said. That longing, that physical _need_ to drape himself around Dorian, to love him and kiss him and _burrow_ into his skin, in their safe, locked up little haven, it felt entirely overwhelming then. He was crashing, could feel it, and he only wanted to do that with Dorian in his arms.

'Well, if you're sure.'

'I am. You guys go on ahead, tell everyone the situation and then please. _Please_ get some rest too?'

Alistair snorted delicately in the background, the _as if_ , variety.

Lee smiled. 'Of course.'

'I'll be round soon,' he promised, an ache in his midriff at the thought of how much his sister might have worried for him, maybe even Bran. 'I promise, I just—'

'You don't need to explain.' She still had blood on her, cuts and bruises and what he thought was the blood of the man she'd killed in the woods. She seemed exhausted, but she was _Lee_ , she was their world. Cullen kissed her cheeks, her nose as they embraced, movement natural and familiar and it made the base of his spine release a small rush of _contentment._

'I could not love you any more if I tried,' he whispered to her.

'Nor I you. Now,' she added in a voice that only wobbled a tiny bit, exhaustion and emotions undermining her timbre. 'Go home to your Bingley, my darling Jane.'

Cullen laughed, kissed her again, left hand brushing back her filthy, tangled hair but she'd never been so beautiful, all her strength was plain to see and it came from _love_. To be loved by Leliana was quite something, Cullen knew. Privilege of a lifetime.

'Away with you, my dearest Lizzy. Your Darcy and uh…' Cullen glanced at Alistair, still stroking her hair, thinking. 'Colonel Fitzwilliam?'

'Dead on,' she agreed, smirking, even though her breath caught, strangely shaky just then.

'Well, there you go. Your men await.'

Lee wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, 'You'll always be my man, Cullen.'

She felt so frail then, in his embrace. Slender bones, clever fingers and in her blood, a world of bittersweet sadness and hard won happiness born of an intimacy that had no place in normality. Their history in touch. In holding and kisses, hands on cheeks and cuddling in bed like kittens because they just fit together that way, warm and comfortable, puzzle pieces reunited in the dark. She felt frail, but as they stood there, a cold sun slowly rising behind them, Cullen knew she was the one holding him up.

She always had.

'No greater honour,' he assured her in a voice so low it came out a rumble.

They parted once more with a hint of finality that time, at least until later. Fenris had been waiting patiently nearby, had been speaking quietly to Anders, the conversation ending with a hug of their own.

Cullen had one hand on the door of the car as Fenris wandered over again, fond tiredness playing about his eyes and even blood-spattered, beaten and damn near _shattered,_ he was still the most beautiful man Cullen had ever seen, all but one.

He came to stand close, the door between them, Cullen on one side, Fenris on the other.

'You'll come by later?'

'Course. I just need to see him.'

'I know.' And he did, the same way Lee knew. 'Thank you for saving my life.'

Cullen let slip a tiny laugh, weirdly tangled up in the mess that was his heart just then. 'Doesn't really compare to all the times you've saved mine.'

Fenris was steady, unswayed. 'I don't mean today.'

'I know.' And he did, he'd never forgotten what Fenris had said to him in that tiny kitchen, when he'd called him the sun.

He looked down then, Cullen's best friend, his silver hair tainted by rust coloured blood and it must have hurt so much, that wound.

'This is the first time in so long I've felt…' he paused, seeking the proper word. 'Lightweight.'

Cullen swallowed over the lump that formed. 'You deserve that. You deserve everything good. To be happy.'

'So do you.'

With a tiny glance over Fenris's shoulder, door still very much between them, Cullen said, 'I think maybe we're about to get a little slice of happiness.'

Fenris smiled wryly. 'You think we've earned it?'

Words failed Cullen then, unable to play into the stream of levity. _Earned_. Christ, who had _earned_ happiness more than Fenris?

He didn't _have_ the words, he realised. All his lyrical ability and inner poetry, all his words and sentences and songs and he couldn't actually find a way to tell Fenris then, how much he loved him, how much he meant to him. To tell him that his happiness meant as much as Cullen's own, that the two were - and always would be - irrevocably tied.

And he didn't have to say it, because he trusted that Fenris already knew it.

So they stood a few moments more, the door between them, until Fenris uttered, soft and vulnerable, 'If I hug you now I won't be able to stop.'

And what else could Cullen say except the truth?

'I know.'

It was _why_ the door was between them, after all.

'Go be happy for a while,' Fenris said, his hand resting beside Cullen's on the top of the door frame, skin brushing only very lightly. 'See you soon.'

'Yeah, see you soon,' Cullen said, voice thicker than he would have liked.

Fenris nodded sharply and left, not looking back. Cullen watched him get into the other car, Alistair and Lee already inside. Anders stood nearby.

‘I’ll have Stroud bring your little girl by when she wakes up.’

‘Thank you so much.’

He gave Cullen a small wink and a smile before he turned, going his own way on foot, headed for the gate just as the car carrying Lee, Fenris and Alistair rolled out.

Another pulled in only moments later. A stretch limo entirely lacking a licence plate.

'That's my ride,' Erimond said brightly.

‘You’ll make your thing,’ Jassen pointed out. ‘What was it, anyway?’

Erimond looked back, about to slide in.

‘Isabela Rivain is performing this morning, she has a live lounge set!’ Erimond said, like it was obvious. ‘I’ve had tickets for months. She’s my favourite. I like when you two duet, though,’ he added, giving Cullen a respectful nod. ‘Well, hope not to see you ever again unless you're on a stage. Take care. Jassen. Call me when you're ready.'

Jassen gestured in acknowledgement, not speaking to or even looking at Cullen as he got into the final car.

Cullen took a moment to look around, to breathe the biting, British winter chill of early morning and let himself believe that this particular nightmare was maybe finally over.

In the car, Jassen faced away just like before. He watched London before it was fully awake, streets strangely empty, roads void of queues.

'You're angry at me,' Cullen said after a few minutes of silent movement.

'I'm not.'

'You're _angry,_ though.'

'Not at you.'

Cullen sighed, discomfort twisting unhappily within. 'I'm sorry if I upset you.'

Jassen kind of shook himself, looked over with a very flat expression that spoke of disbelief.

'Sometimes,' he said softly, but with a rough edge to the exhale. 'I can't believe that I love you.'

Eyes widening slightly, Cullen blurted out, 'You _love_ me?'

'Yes,' Jassen said, dull with a strange kind of misery, his dark brown eyes blazing behind a veil of forced control. 'I love you. Even if sometimes that makes me…' He trailed off, hissing gently and looking away.

'Makes you what?'

The killer turned his attention back to the passing streets. 'Weak.'

'And weakness is despicable,' Cullen finished, monotone and dejected. 

It was a long few seconds before Jassen muttered, 'Not always.'

Cullen's fingers tapped against his thigh. 'You never told me it was… that you loved me.'

Another small shake of his head. 'Why else would I be here?'

'I just thought—I don't know _what_ I thought.'

'That I'm crazy? Obsessed?'

'Maybe. I'm hardly normal, am I?'

'Can you just… _stop_ , please? I'm taking you to your door and once you’re safe, I'll be out of your hair, all right? Just stop it. Please.'

'Why? What am I doing?'

'You know what you're doing.'

'I'm just—'

'More kindness. More fucking _kindness_ , Cullen.'

'Why do you love me?'

Jassen turned enough for Cullen to make out his profile, back-lit by the grey blurs of passing buildings set against a light grey sky. His eyes slid towards Cullen, but not upon him.

'Do you know what trauma bonding is?'

'Fuck off, it's not that and how can you even ask if I _know_ what it is? I was with Madeline for _years._ I'm allowed to care, even a little bit, even if you are absolutely terrifying.'

'No, you're not.'

'You helped us a lot.'

'I helped _you_.'

'You could be a good person. You _are_ …' but Cullen trailed off, certainty crumbling away like the ground beneath his feet, leaving him about to fall. Jassen was not a good person. He just wasn't, not by normal parameters at the very least. 'I'm not trauma bonded to you.'

Jassen looked at him then, nothing in the way of any emotions Cullen could sense there, thrumming beneath the surface.

'But I am,' he said, gaze focused and fierce. 'I'm bonded to you through trauma. And I know that, I fucking _know_ it. I'm not stupid, I'm not crazy, despite how… how I seem. You were all I had for a long time, the only person who forgave me, who gave me another chance. And then… after the rings collapsed and things got better for me, in a way and I find out it was you again.' He fixed his gaze down at his lap, throat working, jaw tight. 'It was obligation at first. You'd helped me, so I would help you. Watch out for you.'

Jassen made a sound, a kind of very dry, sad laugh.

'You had Fenris watching out for you, but there were still gaps. Places where you were exposed and I wanted to protect you. That was before I came to watch you and _know_ you, as much as anyone could from behind a lens. I listened to your music and it…' he exhaled measuredly. 'I know what trauma bonding is, but it felt like love. It still does. I've never had that before. It was important to me. Gave me purpose again. But it felt much more simple from afar. Loving you from afar, from behind a guise, from inside a mission. Here,' he added, looking around with a degree of helplessness that instinctively made Cullen want to hold him, make him safe, make him dinner and make him _stay_. 'You're safe now and I… don't really have a purpose in your life like I did before. Now we're just people. One good, one bad. No blurred lines or necessary evil.'

Finally, he met Cullen's waiting gaze.

'There's only so much I can take without losing what I rely on to keep me alive, do you understand? I have to go _back_ after I take you to your door, to _his_ door.'

'Don't go back to Erimond and the Syndicate,' Cullen said before he could stop himself. It was the kind of thing where, were he not alone, his friends would be glaring violently, interrupting and maybe even speaking for him. 'Please,' he said, daring to reach out and touch Jassen's forearm where the jacket was rucked up. His skin was cold, gritty with dirt and pinched by dried blood.

Jassen didn't _quite_ flinch, but it was a near thing. He looked over quickly, gaze flicking between Cullen's face and where he was (still) touching him.

'Stay with—'

'With who?' Jassen cut across sharply, that look in his eyes again, a distant and unknowable anger. 'Stay with _you_?'

And yes, that was what he'd been about to say, but he could see what a mistake it would be now, how it might genuinely be _cruel_.

Jassen pursued it, voice almost shaking. 'I'll be top five most wanted come lunchtime, so how exactly can I stay _anywhere_?'

Cullen swallowed, pushed past what fear remained.

'All right, you could come back to me.'

Jassen had gone very still. 'What?'

'You could come back, after you've… y'know. With the merry chase and all the death faking. You could come back. See me sometimes. If you wanted, obviously and…' he laughed self-consciously while his chest shook as if a small, insistent bird was inside, beating it's wings in warning. 'No one will understand, they'll all say I'm fucking crazy, even Dorian, but I _know_ you wouldn't hurt me, Jas. I've always known that.'

He was quiet so long Cullen was about to move away, apologise and return to the awkward silence of abject failure, but Jassen took a swift breath and said, 'Why are you like this?'

Cullen's hand had been on his arm for what felt like forever.

'I don't know. But I know you're my friend.'

'Your friend who kills people?'

'We could be _much_ better friends if you would stop.'

'You don't know me.'

'I'd like to.'

'Cullen,' he said, lowering his voice an entire octave. 'You owe me nothing, all right? You don't need to do this. I was… pleased to help you.' He swallowed once and added, rougher, 'Pleased probably isn't the word.'

'I don't feel like I owe you anything.'

'Then why are you saying this?' Jassen sounded quietly exasperated.

'I just… I think I might miss you. I would worry about you, back with Erimond, back in the Syndicate or whatever. You should be free.'

Dark brown eyes moved between light ones. 'I really shouldn't.'

The moment crested, intensity unexpected and strange. Cullen slowly let go, moved back a bit. He recognised the streets now, almost home. 'I just wanted you to know you have a choice, that's all. Contingent upon you _not_ killing anyone, obviously.'

Jassen took heart from the end part, grinning slightly, even if it was wan. 'What about bad people?'

'That's not for you to judge.'

'No? Who then? Samson?'

Cullen fell silent, helplessly brooding. Jassen nudged him with his knee, drawing his attention.

'You're an absolute idiot,' Jassen said, tiredly fond, so similar to Fenris in the strangest of moments. 'But I appreciate what you're trying to say. It's nice that you'd even try.'

Finality again. Everyone knew how to close doors except Cullen.

In the lift going up, Jassen accompanied him. They were silent, though not the uncomfortable kind of twenty minutes ago. The closer they got, the more Cullen's heart started pounding those three syllables of the name he loved best, almost home to his love, to his God damned fucking _soulmate_.

At the door, Cullen went to use his mangled, wrapped thumb, but Jassen stopped him with a wry look. 'Let me.'

His hand move to the handle, small scanner built in to the end part but only inches away, he paused.

Cullen frowned. 'What? Is it broken?'

Jassen lifted his other hand, bid him wait. He moved closer to the door, listening. Cullen couldn't hear anything, but Jassen had all those cat-like instincts, didn't he?

'Is everything—?'

Jassen shushed him again and then he looked down at the handle.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he muttered tiredly.

When he pressed, he kept his thumb there longer than necessary. It beeped but he didn't let go, held on for at least five seconds before he slid open the now unlocked door, keyed with his thumb print from his trickery all those months ago.

He moved deftly ahead of Cullen, went inside and Cullen followed eagerly, worry flaring high and hot in his chest to see…

Oh, holy _God_.

The place was absolutely _trashed;_ sofa's upturned, mess and debris and right in the centre of it all, standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room, was Dorian Pavus.

He had a gun in one hand, hair in absolute disarray, breathless with a deep flush about him, but he was… he didn't seem _hurt_ , at least. There were other people, slumped on the ground, maybe one or two hiding behind the upturned sofa. Jassen pulled out a gun Cullen didn't even know he still had, but he couldn't look away from Dorian. He just couldn't.

'Oh,' Cullen gasped, a sigh and sob all at once. 'My _God_!'

Dorian shook himself, looked over and blinked hard. 'Cullen,' he panted, not quite smiling. 'Hi.'

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part will be at least two weeks in the making as I am somewhat mentally and emotionally exhausted, but I promise, it will be oh so worth it and only two chapters left??? What madness is this?! Thank you for reading this far, if you have, I know I've tested your patience when I lured you all in with a "Light-hearted 80k roommate fluffmance about glitter and disaster friends!" and then turned it into a Game of Thrones length saga that at least three people kindly told me they couldn't continue until it was finished, but I promise, the end is quite literally in sight now!
> 
> Any and all feedback would honestly be treasured.  
> 💜💜💜

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow ya girl on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Azriel_Green)  
> What did we think? Drop me a comment.  
> Thanks for reading!


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